Free A Long Way from Home by Alice Walsh

was like to lose the people she loved. In Kabul, entire families were wiped out. Many of Rabia’s classmates had been killed.
    Rabia tried to slow her breathing. Her people were not responsible for the attacks. Osama bin Laden was not one of them. He was a foreigner driven out of his own country. Everyone in Kabul had heard of him. He owned a palace in Kandahar with gold water taps and jeweled doorknobs. He had set up a terrorist organization called Al-Qaeda. Yes, they were Muslims, but they did not practice their faith in the way Rabia and her family practiced theirs. Like the Taliban, Al-Qaeda followed a very fanatical form of religion. They did not follow the teachings of the Qur’an. If they did, they would know that such violence was against Allah’s will. They would know it was wrong to kill innocent people. Father said Al-Qaeda was built on hate and destruction that could only be harmful for Afghanistan.
    Rabia pulled her knees to her chest, the pain of loneliness weighing down on her. What would it be like for them in America if they were seen as enemies? Maybe they would be better off going back. But going back to what? She was tired of running from the Taliban, tired of accepting food from relatives who had nothing themselves. Aunt Roxanne and Sima were no better off than slaves, working dawn to dusk in exchange for a room in a shabby basement.
    Rabia recalled the day she and Sima watched Titanic in the children’s playroom. Her cousin had wept for a life she could never have. In Pakistan, she would never have a chance to have an education. She would be trapped in a marriage with a man she did not love.
    Rabia managed to take a deep breath. No wonder women in Kabul were drawn to movies like Titanic. So many of them had arranged or forced marriages. Secretly, they were hoping someone like Jack would come along and break them out of a world that kept them imprisoned. I want my life to be better than that , Rabia told herself . I deserve a better life . Father would want her to go to America, she knew.
    â€œNo,” Rabia whispered into the darkened room. “I will never go back.”

Chapter 14
    September 12
    Colin stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. It took a few moments before the memories of yesterday came rushing back. He was in Canada. Gander, Newfoundland, Canada. He looked around the room. Mom lay on her cot, eyes closed, but Colin could tell she was awake. The other families were gone, their blankets and sleeping bags folded neatly on cots and mattresses. Knapsacks, coats, books, and stuffed animals were placed carefully on top. He hadn’t even heard them get up.
    Colin stayed still, wondering what he should do. He would look for a payphone, he decided. He would try to reach Grant in New York. Grant would know why the planes had been sent here.
    No sooner had Colin gotten up from his mattress than he heard a knock at the door. He opened it, and the aroma of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee wafted into the classroom. A woman holding toothbrushes and towels stood in the hallway. Three kids, a girl and two boys, were standing behind her. For a long moment, Colin stared at them. The girl had dark hair and dark eyes. One of the boys wore a Batman T-shirt, the other a ball hat with Newfie B’y written across the front.
    â€œI hope I didn’t wake you,” the woman said. She was about Grandma’s age with short graying hair. “I’m Flo Goodridge, and this is Leah, Brent, and Jason.”
    â€œHi,” he said, “I’m Colin, and…” he pointed to the cot, “that’s my mom, Catherine.”
    The woman walked past Colin into the room. The children followed behind her. “You okay, my dear?” she asked. “You looks right pale, sure.”
    â€œA migraine,” Catherine said. “Had it since yesterday.”
    Flo fussed like a mother hen. “Just what you needs along with everything else that’s been goin’