Rebels by Accident by Patricia Dunn

“And guess who her favorite singer is?”
    â€œUmm Kulthum,” I say, not sure how I know, but I just do.
    â€œHow’d you guess?” He turns to me and smiles. I can feel the back of my neck turn red. At least it’s not my face that gets red when I’m embarrassed.
    â€œThe road,” Sittu reminds him.
    Hassan quickly turns his eyes back to the road.
    â€œNice beat,” Deanna says. “But do you have any Amr Diab?”
    â€œYou know Amr Diab?” Hassan sounds shocked. He adjusts the rearview mirror, and I catch Deanna shifting to see him in it.
    â€œOf course,” Deanna says. “I love all Middle Eastern music.”
    Hassan takes a different CD from the glove compartment and pops it in. Deanna begins to sing along. Must be Amr Diab.
    â€œYou have a wonderful voice,” Hassan says. “You know Arabic?”
    â€œ Shway shway .”
    â€œShe is modest,” Sittu says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
    â€œI don’t know all the words,” Deanna says.
    â€œTeach my heart to love. Live with me in my dreams…”
    â€œYour voice is pretty nice too,” Deanna says, flirting, ignoring Baba’s warning.
    I know if a guy were into me, I wouldn’t want him to sing some totally obvious love song. It would be something more subtle, like… Well, I don’t know exactly, but I know he would choose something special. A song just for me.
    â€¢ • •
    It’s bad enough that for most of the drive out to Giza, Deanna and Hassan sing like they’ve been a duet for years, but when Sittu joins in, I want to yell, “Stop the car!” so I can get out and walk. I keep my face turned toward the Egyptian countryside flying by my window, pretending to be fascinated.
    Deanna finally stops singing. “Look! The pyramids.” She rolls down her window, letting all the hot air out and the cold air in.
    â€œWelcome to the Pyramid of Khufu,” Hassan says, pulling into the parking area.
    I don’t turn from my window. What’s the big deal? Three big triangles. So what?
    â€œThey’re more than four thousand years old,” Deanna says with awe. “They’re one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the only one that still exists.”
    OMG, she’s like a guidebook now.
    â€œThis is the biggest of all the pyramids in Egypt,” Hassan says as we get out of the car.
    â€œThere are more than these?”
    I give Deanna a look she doesn’t notice. Why is she playing dumb? She knows more facts about pyramids than the ancient Egyptians who built the stupid things.
    â€œAlmost a hundred,” Hassan says.
    I walk behind Deanna and Hassan as they exchange pyramid trivia, even more grateful for the sunglasses Sittu gave me—no one can see my eyes rolling.
    â€œSo, habibti , what do you think?” Sittu locks her arm through mine.
    â€œAbout what?” I ask, distracted by the banter in front of us.
    â€œThe Great Pyramid.” Sittu tilts my chin toward the sky.
    I have to stop walking and just stare. The pyramids really are the most awesome sight I’ve ever seen.
    Every teacher who ever went to Egypt on vacation always insisted on showing me their pyramid shots. Like they wanted to show the little Egyptian girl they understood her, prove that they had traveled to her homeland. I used to think they could’ve saved the airfare and walked five blocks from the school if they really wanted to see where I’m from. But now, looking up at this spectacle, I’m completely stunned. I wonder if those teachers just wanted to share their experience with someone they thought would get it, someone who’d seen them, and would know how no photograph or video could do it justice.
    â€œSittu, I don’t remember a lot about Egypt when I was here as a little kid, but I can’t believe I would have forgotten this.”
    â€œGiddu wanted to take you, but your baba