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from Balcony of Desire Maryam Mortaz Mehrva glanced at the sign above the door. Zeinab High School for Girls. Sudeh was already wearing her veil, but Mehrva and Flore had to pull theirs out of their bags and struggle with them. Mehrva felt a dreariness come over her. “Everywhere we go there’s a line these days. I wonder if there’s a line for killing ourselves.” A girl with silver braces told them they were searching everyone’s bags for flyers. Mehrva turned to Flore. “Searching them for what?” “Molotov cocktails. Guns. Bombs.” “Are you joking?” “I’m dead serious. They’re afraid of antirevolutionary girls.” Inside the school, a crew called the Zeinabi Girls, wearing austere black veils, ordered everybody to put their bags on the table and stand in the corner for a body search. One of the Zeinabis began to search through Mehrva’s bag. Mehrva watched her. The girl looked like she had a thin moustache and might even be proud of it. “What’s this?” the Zeinabi asked. “Jane Eyre.” The Zeinabi arched her eyebrows and called out for Mrs. Ajami. Mehrva turned to see who this Mrs. Ajami or Ajani was supposed to be. Meanwhile, Flore was anxiously chewing on her nails. Another one of the Zeinabis had figured out that Flore was wearing jeans, which were forbidden. What Flore had actually done was to sew the bottom part of the official pants they were supposed to wear over her jeans. 209 “Oh, real smart!” Mehrva whispered. Among them, only Sudeh had passed the body search with flying colors. But even Sudeh looked scared on seeing Mrs. Ajami coming their way. Mrs. Ajami walked like a ghost in her severe black veil and her flat, soundless shoes. Mehrva studied her. She wasn’t much taller than her Zeinabi girls. She had sunken, dark-circled eyes and wore the same hint of a moustache over her thin lips. Mrs. Ajami stared hard at Mehrva. “Your name?” “Jane Eyre.” Flore and some other girls standing behind them exploded with laughter at Mehrva’s audacity. But Mehrva looked about her in confusion, not realizing what her nervousness had made her say. Mrs. Ajami drew in a deep breath. “You are playing with me. But I am a better player than you. Just wait and see. We have a long year ahead of us.” Mrs. Ajami raised her voice another notch so everyone could hear. “No indecent books in this school!” She threw the book in a garbage can. Mehrva stood there in shock. This was the book she’d paid triple the price for to that thieving black-market book dealer in the damp basement of a downtown bookshop. She wanted her book back. “Later!” a voice whispered quietly. Mehrva turned to the sound. It was an old woman with a gold tooth and a hairy mole. She was even holding a broom. “I’ll give you the book later,” the woman said. “Indecent books!” Mehrva imitated Mrs. Ajami when they were in the yard. Each grade had its own color-coded uniform. Older girls stood in groups talking to their own classmates. Mehrva and the girls found a spot by the drinking fountain next to a row of three bathrooms. Sudeh pinched her nose. “What a stinking place we’ve found for ourselves.” They had painted a martyr’s face on the surface of the brick wall. The soldier ’s forehead was bleeding, and tulips bloomed where his blood had supposedly flowed. Of death I have no fear, for truly death is life itself. On another wall Mehrva read, We will fight to the last drop of our blood. No West, no East. Only the Islamic Republic. Death to all antirevolutionaries. Mehrva’s eyes now skipped from slogan to slogan . . . Death to the Mojahed . . . Death to the Fadai. We will not waver from your path, O Martyr . . . Fear does not exist in the martyr’s vocabulary. Her roaming eyes finally settled on the very top of the brick wall and its metal fence jutting fiercely up into the sky. So this was to be her school, a place even birds were afraid to fly over. “Alcatraz!” she blurted. “Have either of you seen the movie?” Her friends gave her puzzled looks, and she quickly explained: “We’re in prison. If you’d seen the movie you’d want to bring your own little bird here.” 210 Maryam Mortaz [3.141.100.120] Project MUSE...

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