Sweet Revenge

seemed to make rebellion their highest priority. How could Adriannerebel against the woman who had risked her life to keep her safe?
    Some of them smuggled pot into school, smoking it in the bathroom. They accepted drugs so casually while she was terrified of them.
    There was the title that separated her from her companions. More than a word, it was in her blood, a tie with the world she had lived in for the first eight years of her life. A world none of the privileged American girls would understand.
    She shared their culture with them, grateful for many things they took for granted. But there were still moments, private moments, when she missed the harem and the comfort of family.
    She thought of Duja, who had married a rich American oilman, but was as far removed from her life as Jiddah or Fahid or the brother and sister who had been born since she had left Jaquir.
    Then she pushed the past behind and opened her books at a table near the garden window.
    She passed the afternoon pleasantly enough, with the music louder than Phoebe liked, and the bag of barbecued potato chips for lunch. School was a joy to her, another thing that baffled her friends. But they thought of education as a right, even a boring necessity, not a privilege. Nine years of Adrianne’s life had passed before she had learned to read, but she had made up for lost time, pleasing and astonishing Phoebe by becoming an honor student. Learning was as much a fascination to Adrianne as the bouncy rock and roll pouring out of the radio.
    She had dreams. At fourteen they focused on becoming an engineer. Math was like a language to her, and she was already fluent in algebra. With the help of an interested teacher, she was tackling calculus. She was also intrigued by computers and by electronics.
    Adrianne was trying to solve a difficult equation when she heard the door open.
    “You’re back early.” Her smile of greeting faded when she looked up at Larry Curtis.
    “Did you miss me, honeybunch?” He tossed his flight bag aside and grinned at her. He’d done a line of coke in thelavatory of the plane just before touchdown. He was feeling fine. “How about a kiss for Uncle Larry?”
    “My mother isn’t here.” Adrianne stopped swinging her legs and straightened in her seat. He made her conscious of her brief shorts and the small breasts under her T-shirt. With him, she wished for the protection of the
abaaya
and veil.
    “She leave you all alone?” It was a rare thing for him to come across Adrianne unattended. Making himself at home, he went to a cabinet and took out a bottle of bourbon. Adrianne watched in disapproving silence.
    “She wasn’t expecting you.”
    “Tied things up early.” He drank, then turned to study her slim brown legs under the table. He’d wanted to get his hands between those pretty thighs for months. “Congratulate me, sweetie. I just made a deal that’s going to keep me on top for the next five years.”
    “Congratulations,” she said politely, then began to stack her books. She would escape to her room, locking the door behind her.
    “Is this what you do on a great Saturday afternoon?” Larry put a hand over hers on her Spanish book. Adrianne went still, waiting for the hammering at the base of her skull to slow. She knew when a man wanted. She’d been raised on it. Her stomach turned sour as she looked up at him.
    He had changed little since the first time she’d seen him. His hair was trimmed a bit shorter, and the pastel shirts and chains had given way to Izod sportswear and jogging shoes. But underneath he was exactly what he had always been. Celeste had once called him slick. As she looked at him, the word made Adrianne think of slime.
    “I want to put my books away.” She kept her eyes steady, but nerves jumped in her voice. Hearing them, Larry smiled.
    “You look pretty with all your books stacked around. Studious.” He finished off his drink but kept his hand over hers. She was excited, he thought as he felt her pulse bounce under his fingers. Scared and excited. Just the way he liked them. “You’ve grown up on me, honeybunch.” Definitely, he thought. Her hair fell to her waist, black and straight as an arrow. Her skin was fresh, dewy, the color of gold dust, and her eyes, as dark as her hair, were wide with fear. She knewjust what he was thinking. It aroused him, the same way her firm, underripe body aroused him.
    “I’ve been keeping my eye on you over the years, baby. You and I could