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my purse and bring it. The problem is that Uncle and Auntie
believe in being stiff in pictures. Uncle wants to take a picture
of Nasreen and me, and he tells us to sit with our hands in our
laps. Since when do I sit like that? Auntie lifts my hair so that
some of it hits my shoulders. She licks her finger and takes a
swipe of Nasreen's eye shadow that has smeared under her eyes. When
she gets out of our way, Uncle snaps a picture of us like that.
    This is so uncomfortable, but this is how
they take pictures here. Nasreen has shown me family albums before,
and it's like looking through pages and pages of mummies. Everyone
is standing straight, arms at their sides, or sitting down with
their hands in their laps. Everyone faces forward, with no profiles
or semiprofiles to be seen. I love it when I'm with my friends and
we take pictures, because I jump up, stick my tongue out, and put
my arms around people, and my face can be seen at all types of
angles. Uncle and Auntie are against lively pictures for some
reason.
    "Now Nasreen will take a picture of Asma and
us," Auntie says.
    I stand by the window, against the radiator,
and Uncle and Auntie sandwich me. They have their arms at their
sides as if they're in the military. I make a move to put my arms
around them. "No, no," Auntie says. "Stay still and look at the
camera."
    I put my arms down, feeling awkward and
unnatural. These pictures are going to look horrible. We take turns
snapping pictures so that I get to sit or stand -- like a mummy --
with all my relatives, except Omar who's still out. Auntie made me
promise to leave some film for him. With my camera back in its bag,
I sit down. I sigh in relief, from both having the picture-taking
ordeal out of the way and from Uncle being distracted from his
request to hear Umm. I was wrong about that, though.
    He's back to the shelves looking for the
tape. "I could have sworn I put the tape in this box."
    What more can I do? We just spent a half hour
taking pictures, with Auntie and Uncle fussing over me on how to
pose. I have to do something else.
    "Owww!" I howl, grabbing my head with both
hands. My fingers clutch sticky tendrils of hair covered in Aqua
Net. "Owwwwwww!"
    "What's wrong?" Uncle asks.
    "What's going on?" Auntie asks.
    "I think I have a migraine," I say. I cradle
my head in both hands, my eyes squeezed shut. "It hurts so
much."
    "Get some aspirin," Uncle orders Auntie.
    "That'll help, but I need some peace and
quiet," I say, lowering my voice, because it pains me to hear any
type of loud sound. I'm pretending and hating myself for doing so,
but I'll do anything to get Uncle's mind off Umm Kulthum.
    "Lie down," Auntie says. She grabs me by the
arm and leads me to Nasreen's bedroom as if I'm an invalid. She
pushes me by the small of my back up the bunk bed. I close my eyes,
but then open them when Auntie hands me a glass of water and
aspirin. Sitting up, I swipe my hand over my mouth and drink the
water. The aspirin is tightly stuck in the folds of my palm. I'll
save it for when I have a real headache.
    Lights are turned off, voices are hushed, and
everyone is quiet because of me. "No, no, don't go in there right
now," Auntie tells Nasreen. "Go there when you're ready to sleep.
And you don't play any music to disturb your niece." I'd love to
talk to Nasreen right now, but Auntie is keeping her away from me
because of my faux illness. I'll talk to her when I'm feeling
better in a few hours. I'd also like to brush my teeth and wash the
thick makeup off my face. I can't pretend I'm ill every single
night whenever Uncle mentions he has a yen to hear Umm. I need to
find a replacement tape, and fast.

Chapter Six
     
    I wake up in the middle of the night in a
sweat with a loud voice pounding into my head. My heart jumps in my
throat, and then I remember where I am. I'm in Uncle's basement
apartment, which I used to think was cool, but now I perceive it as
freakish and deathly. Disoriented, I sit up, high above the floor
since