Free The Green Bicycle by Haifaa Al Mansour Page A

that!”
    The thought of the bracelet supply drying up seemed to help the younger girl decide. She nodded. Wadjda’s eyes fixed on her hands as she pulled the money from her uniform pocket. With each Riyal, she felt like she could see her bicycle more clearly.
    They made the exchange, and a few more girls gathered around. A small, victorious smile spread across Wadjda’s face as she handed out bracelets and collected money. A light breeze blew, stirring her curls. It wasn’t hot yet. The sun was still pretty instead of scorching.
It’s going to be a good day
, Wadjda thought.
    Coming to school early was one of her secret joys. The mornings were a pretty safe time to make her sales, which was good. The consequences of being caught with a mixtape full of love songs would be dire. The thought of that conversation with Ms. Hussa . . .
Yikes!
A chill ran down Wadjda’s spine, and she shook her head to banish the image.
    Then, in the half hour after she sold her stuff but before classes began, she could relax and embrace her well-earned free time. Running around, playing on the playground, kicking up sand—through it all, Wadjda couldn’t stop smiling. Her jeans peeked out from under her uniform as she sprinted. Her trusty sneakers made her faster than everyone else. It wasn’t as free as a bicycle ride through the streets, but it was close.
    In the far corner of the yard, a group of girls played hopscotch. This quiet spot, just past the area where the girls came in and took off their
abayahs
, was Wadjda’s favorite. She ran over, sat, and leaned in to get a better view. As she watched, though, she grew increasingly impatient. The girl on the hopscotch grid, Salma, was moving like she was on tranquilizers or something. And the bell would ring at any minute!
    Finally, Salma finished her pass and stepped ceremonially off the grid. Grinning, Wadjda leaped into place. She took her lucky stone from her pocket, tossed it in front of her, and started to hop. Completing a smooth turn, she bent to scoop up her rock.
    To her left, one of the other girls, Noura, raised her head. Her face twisted up with fear, like she’d just seen a horrible monster.
    â€œWe need to go inside!” she cried. “Men are watching us!”
    All the girls froze. Then they looked up, frightened, and scanned the horizon above the school’s imposing walls. Noura pointed with one hand, shielding her eyes from the sun with the other. Her finger was shaking. Wadjda raised her hand, too. She could barely make out a group of construction workers atop a building far in the distance.
    â€œThey’re a million miles away, silly,” she said, laughing. “No way they can see us from there. What, do they have Superman powers?”
    â€œIf you can see them, they can see you,” Noura retorted. Wadjda snorted and turned her attention back to hopscotch. Noura flushed red.
    â€œFine,” she hissed. “All the
good
girls are going inside. The bad ones who want to expose themselves to men can stay and play out here by themselves.”
    She waved dramatically for the girls standing nearby to join her. One by one, they rose and followed Noura back into the school. Salma went last. Though she looked sad to leave the game, Wadjda knew she would never dare to break a rule.
    As she swung the heavy doors closed, Noura looked back at Wadjda with a victorious smirk. Wadjda met her sneer with a look of anger—and stuck out her tongue, too, for good measure.
    â€œGo, you
sheikha
,” she called, using a title reserved forthe most pious of religious women. “Who cares? You’re terrible at hopscotch anyway!”
    But Noura and the other girls were already inside. Shrugging, Wadjda tossed her stone, balancing on one foot, ready to hop. Before she started, she looked up—and saw Fatin and Fatima. They held a magazine between them, their heads bent over the pages. They were walking toward