She gathered herself slowly and painfully, determined to come up with some kind of breakfast for Ahmad before school. When he walked into the kitchen, he found her pouring hot milk into matching mugs that held Lipton tea bags. He stopped to stare at her before sitting down. “What’s the matter with you?” She shrugged, laying out slices of soft white cheese and Kalamata olives on a plate. She flicked on the stovetop burner and warmed a pita over the open flame with the tongs, then handed it to him, doing the same for herself. He looked at her suspiciously. “Did you get hurt?” “No, I didn’t get hurt, I’m completely fine, thank you.” She sat down next to him, trying not to groan, and, as if for proof, took a long sip of the warm, milky, tea. “Trouble with Special Agent Colleague?” “Ahmad!” “Then what?” he asked, as he chewed a huge mouthful of bread and cheese. She knew if she told him about the drive-by he’d be totally unable to concentrate. She reached over and tousled her brother’s hair.
