The Dressmaker of Khair Khana by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon

few changes of clothing and some toiletries; he could find whatever else he needed in Pakistan, and he didn't want to risk losing anything he valued during the journey there. He left his books in his room and told Kamila to put them to good use while he was away.
    “Everything will be just where you left it when you return,” Kamila promised. She struggled against her tears. She wanted so badly to be strong for her brother.
    He promised to write as soon as he had settled in Pakistan.
    Then a knock came at the front door. It was time to go.
    Kamila walked him out through the courtyard they had played in together for so many years. He stopped for a moment before he unlatched the metal slide.
    “Kamila, take care of everyone, okay?” Najeeb said. “I know it's a lot for you, but Father wouldn't have left you in charge if he didn't think you could manage. I'll send help soon, just as soon as I can.”
    Faced with her brother's departure, Kamila at last gave in to her tears. She just couldn't bear the idea of Najeeb going out into the world without her. How much danger would the young man face before she saw him again? And when would that be? Months? Years?
    She stood at the gate hugging Najeeb good-bye.
    “God keep you safe,” she said quietly as she at last let him go and took a step back from the door so he could pass. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and tried to muster a reassuring smile. “We'll be fine here. Don't worry about us.”
    At last the gate slammed shut and he was gone. The young women stood huddled together, staring wordlessly at the green door.
    Kamila realized she really was in charge now, and she had to act like it.
    “Okay, then,” she said, turning to her sisters and leading the girls back inside, “whose turn is it to make lunch?” That afternoon, without Najeeb's good cheer and their mother's comforting words to help pass the hours, Kamila realized how desperately the girls needed something else to focus on. They didn't just need income; they needed a purpose. She simply had to make a success of her dressmaking business.
    The next morning was cloudy and quiet as Kamila and Rahim set out for the mile-and-a-half journey to Lycee Myriam. The blue dress lay in folded squares at the bottom of the black carry-all Kamila held tightly at her side. Under her chadri Kamila wore a large, dark tunic, ground-skimming baggy pants, and low rubber-heeled shoes. She wanted to give the Taliban no reason to notice her during this short trip. Her pulse raced and her heart crashed against her chadri with unshakable intensity.
    With Najeeb gone, it now fell to Rahim to serve as his sisters' eyes and ears. Though only thirteen, he had suddenly become the man of their house, and the only person in the Sidiqi household who could move around the city freely. Today he was serving as Kamila's mahram, the chaperone whose presence would help keep her out of trouble with the Taliban.
    Rahim walked close to his sister past the shops and stores along Khair Khana's main road. The two spoke little as they walked toward the market. Soon Kamila spotted a few Taliban soldiers patrolling the sidewalk ahead of them, and she quickly realized they would be better off using the back roads of the neighborhood they knew so well. She and Rahim still had the hometown advantage; the Taliban, most of whom came from the south, remained strangers to the capital. It wasn't unusual for traffic all over the city to be turned on its head by soldiers who drove their tanks and pickup trucks the wrong way down one-way roads, sometimes at high speed. Though they governed Kabul, they still did not know it.
    Kamila guided her younger brother through the winding, muddy side streets that led to Lycee Myriam. He felt responsible for keeping his sister safe, especially now that his father and older brother were gone, and he tried to stay a few steps in front of her so that he could see what lay ahead. He still found it terribly strange to behold Kamila in