The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis

herself,” Mother said. “And since you are a child, you will come with us.”
    â€œI’m not going,” Parvana insisted. She even stamped her feet.
    â€œYou will do as you’re told,” Mother said. “All this running around wild in the streets has made you think you’re above yourself.”
    â€œI’m not going to Mazar!” Parvana repeated, stamping her feet again.
    â€œSince your feet want to move around so much, you’d better take them out for a walk,” Mrs. Weera said. “You can fetch some water while you’re at it.”
    Parvana grabbed the bucket and got some satisfaction out of slamming the door behind her.
    Parvana glowered for three days. Finally, Mother said, “You can take that awful frown off your face. We’ve decided to leave you here. Not because of your bad behavior. A child ofeleven has no business telling her mother what she will and will not do. We’re leaving you here because it will be too difficult to explain your appearance. Your aunt will keep your secret, of course, but we can’t count on everyone to be so careful. We can’t take the chance of word about you getting back here.”
    Although she was glad to remain in Kabul, Parvana found herself sulking that they weren’t taking her with them. “I’m not satisfied with anything any more,” she told Shauzia the next day.
    â€œNeither am I,” Shauzia said. “I used to think that if only I could sell things from a tray, I’d be happy, but I’m not happy at all. I make more money this way than I did as a tea boy, but it’s not enough to make any real difference. We still go hungry. My family still argues all the time. Nothing is better.”
    â€œWhat’s the answer?”
    â€œMaybe someone should drop a big bomb on the country and start again.”
    â€œThey’ve tried that,” Parvana said. “It only made things worse.”
    One of the women in the local branch of the women’s group was going to accompanyParvana’s family to the city of Mazar. Her husband would go with them as the official escort. If the Taliban asked, Mother would be the husband’s sister, and Nooria, Maryam and Ali would be the nieces and nephews.
    Nooria cleaned out the family cupboard one last time. Parvana watched her pack up her things. “If all goes well, we’ll be in Mazar in a couple of days,” Nooria said.
    â€œAre you scared?” Parvana asked. “It’s a long journey.”
    â€œI keep thinking of things that can go wrong, but Mother says everything will be fine.” They would be traveling together in the back of a truck. “As soon as I get out of Taliban territory, I’m going to throw off my burqa and tear it into a million pieces.”
    Parvana went to the market the next day to buy the family some food for the journey. She wanted to buy Nooria a present, too. She wandered through the market looking at things for sale. She finally decided on a pen in a beaded case. Every time Nooria used it at university, and later when she became a real school teacher, she would think of Parvana.
    â€œWe’ll be gone for most of the summer,”Mother reminded Parvana the night before they left. “You’ll be fine with Mrs. Weera. Do what she tells you, and don’t give her any trouble.”
    â€œParvana and I will be good company for each other,” Mrs. Weera said, “and by the time you get back, the magazine should be coming in from Pakistan, all printed and ready to distribute.”
    They left very early the next day. The mid-July morning was fresh but held the promise of hot weather to follow.
    â€œWe’d best be going,” Mother said. Since there was no one else on the street, Mother, Nooria and Mrs. Weera had their burqas flipped up so their faces could be seen.
    Parvana kissed Ali, who squirmed and fussed, grumpy from being woken up early. Mother got him