Caught Between Read Free Page B

went back to her room. Connie grinned like she was watching a soap opera, and Amber stared at the wall.
    "So," Amy continued with a conspiratorial smile, "I hear you speak Arabic. That's so great, because no one on our team speaks Arabic. It's actually why Margot wanted you along -- because you could play translator with the Bedouin workers. I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that either, but oh well."
    "You weren't," Connie confirmed.
    "See? Oh well. You would have found out sooner or later, probably." Amy shrugged happily. "And I also heard your parents are from Syria, and that you've been to the Middle East before. Which is super, because we totally need someone to show us around Amman. Someone who knows what she's doing, you know? Oh, and by the way, do you pronounce your name like M ariah Carey's?"
    "No," Marya said quickly. "And thanks for asking. It's pronounced Mar-yuh, with the accent on the first syllable."
    "That's so good to know," Amy said with a relieved laugh, "b ecause I love Mariah Carey's music, but honestly, her name has always bugged me. Your name is so original, and I'm totally gonna give my kids foreign names someday."
    Marya tried to keep her expression blank, desperately wishing Amy would stop talking. She was too jetlagged for this right now. "Yeah, uh... You know what, I should probably call my parents and let them know I got here okay. Do you know where I can find a phone?"
    "Absolutely," Amy said. "Follow me."
    Amy clearly enjoyed the attention that came with showing Marya around; she spoke loudly and made a big entrance everywhere she went. When she led Marya directly to Felicity's office, Marya withheld a scowl. "Ms. Felicity," Amy announced, "Marya would like to call her parents to let them know she's okay."
    Marya smiled tightly. "Thanks, Amy."
    Felicity gave them a bored look. "The codes are taped to the desk. Limit your call to ten minutes, please."
    It wasn't until she heard her mother's voice that Marya realized she was already feeling homesick. "Hey... Yeah, everything's fine. No, everyone's great. It's a dream come true, really." She wasn't about to tell her mother the truth: that she'd been here only a couple hours but had already screwed up and gotten on the professor's bad side. "Don't worry, I'll call you often. Yes, I promise. I love you, too."
    "I love you, too, Mommy," a male voice jeered from just ou tside the office. Her mother was still talking, but Marya was distracted by the juvenile snickering that followed. Holding the phone away from her face, Marya craned her neck to see what immature asshole was taunting her. She saw three guys turning the corner towards the exit, one of whom wore a red bandana wrapped around his head and baggy jeans sitting low on his hips. She could only see him from the back as he walked away, but she was certain he was the same guy who'd whistled at her earlier, after her confrontation with Ducharme.
    Jackass. What's with these Canadians?
    She managed to end the phone call with her mother after no fewer than six attempts and walked out of the office just as dinner was announced. She had to move against the wall just to escape the stampede of professors and students that plowed through the room and into the dining hall.
    " Marya, come sit with me," Amy said as she walked by, grabbing Marya by the hand. While she was pleased to have made at least one friend, Marya wondered about Amy's sudden attachment to her. It seemed to stem from the fact that, by hanging around Marya, Amy was getting a little more attention than usual from everyone else. It didn't seem to matter to her that the attention was primarily negative attention.
    The line to the food wound through the hall, around the long tables and towards the exit. Standing at the very end of it, Marya couldn't help but notice that Dr. Ducharme and some of her colleagues were already seated and eating. What was all that business about nuns taking vows of poverty and obedience and all that? Marya