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right moves.
    We’re all quiet for a long while after. From the corner of my eye, I catch Sittu smiling at Deanna. Maybe Sittu’s not mean; maybe she just doesn’t like me.

chapter
EIGHT
    We pull up in front of Sittu’s apartment building, and Salam unloads our luggage from the trunk. Sittu and Salam talk in Arabic for a few minutes. They talk like someone has died, but then, anyone speaking Arabic sounds ultraserious to me. He nods at her and offers to take our bags upstairs, but Sittu tells him to get home to his family.
    â€œNice meeting you,” Deanna and I say.
    â€œThe pleasure is mine.” Salam puts his hand to his heart the way Ahmed did at the airport.
    I press the elevator button in the lobby.
    â€œWe take the stairs,” Sittu says.
    â€œIs it broken?” Deanna asks.
    â€œThe landlord charges you more if you want to use the elevator. It’s not a lot of money, but it’s the principle of the thing.”
    â€œThat’s crazy to have to pay to use an elevator,” I say.
    â€œNot when the rents on these apartments are controlled,” Sittu says. “The rent’s so low the landlord tries to squeeze money out of his tenants in other ways.” Sittu shakes her head. “At least this landlord isn’t stupid. Some build on extra floors without making sure the structure can handle the weight, and entire buildings have collapsed as a result. Too many people have died this way.”
    â€œStill, you won’t pay the extra money for the elevator?” I ask.
    Sittu gives me the same look Baba gives me when I’ve asked a question he feels he’s already answered.
    â€œ Yalla ,” Sittu says.
    â€œ Yalla ,” Deanna and I say, and we follow Sittu up five very long flights of stairs.
    Deanna and I are breathing heavily when we get to Sittu’s door. Sittu’s breathing like she just got out of a long, hot bath. There’s nothing old about this woman.
    â€œAmerica makes you soft!” Sittu slaps both Deanna and me on our butts.
    â€œ Ahlan wa sahlan .” She opens the door, and I’m hit in the face with cold air.
    â€œIt’s cold in here,” Sittu says. “Did I leave the balcony open?” She walks over to the balcony and pulls the doors shut.
    â€œI never think of Egypt as being cold,” I say.
    â€œWell, it seems like Americans don’t think about Egypt much, except for pyramids, Nile cruises, and our relations with Israel.”
    I turn my face away from her. I don’t want her to see that her comment hurts my feelings. Yes, I’m American, but she talks as if I’m a know-nothing American.
    â€œThere’s a space heater in your room if you need it at night. As you can see, it can get chilly this time of year, and these buildings are built to keep things cool.”
    â€œ Shukran ,” Deanna and I say.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” Sittu says. “Leave your bags here, and we will have the tour.”
    We follow Sittu through her long entranceway and dining room. Photos of me cover the walls. I see a lot of “first” photos: the first time I was on a swing, first day of kindergarten, and every other first day of school until high school, when I told Baba if he didn’t put the camera away, I wasn’t getting out of his car. Posing for my dad like I was a kindergartener, with the entire school population there as witnesses, would have sealed my fate as the freshman freak. That’s when I still had hope that I could reinvent myself. That was before I realized a new school building didn’t mean a new school population. At least now, as a junior, I no longer hold the title of Mayflower High’s Number One Weirdo. Thanks to Deanna moving to town, I’m now weirdo number two, though I’m sure once word gets out that it was my parents who sent us to Cairo for the rest of the semester, I will be back in first place.
    â€œHey, is that you?”