'Coward,' I said.

He tried to charge at me again, but the mighty Osama held him in his place.

'If you are a real man,' I said, 'you should prove it by playing My Land, Your Land.'

'Yes,' Masoud said. 'There's no other way.'

Ali repeated his brother's words with an earnestness that made him look ridiculous.

Kareem stared at the two brothers scornfully. I remembered then what he had once told me about Masoud and Ali: 'two baboons that mirror their gossiping mother in every way, even in the way they wiggle their fat bums when they walk'. I recalled how much we had laughed then, and how out of character it was for Kareem, who rarely mocked anyone, and how that made me feel privileged somehow. And when I relayed his words to Mama she laughed and repeated them to Baba, who smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming with pleasure, causing me to feel proud of my friend's wit and accuracy.

He stepped out of the circle drawn in the ground and aimed the knife.

'How's the beloved?' I heard myself say.

'What beloved?' the boys asked.

'Shut up, you little swine.'

'Tell us, tell us, who is she?'

'Her name is Leila.'

'Not the one in his class?'

'Not the smart one who always sits in the front row?'

'Yes, that one,' I said. 'He can't stop dreaming about her.'

They laughed. Kareem stared at me.

'Every time he heard a love song he would go all soft in the stomach for her. He told me!' I said, pointing at him.

Osama and Masoud slapped their thighs and each other on the back. Ali tried to imitate them. Kareem hurled the knife so hard its blade was entirely buried in the dirt. It was a good, clean throw.

'Listen, you, you have no word, you are not a man because you have no word.' His words left his pursed lips like small explosions. I thought I saw tears in his eyes. He turned and walked away. I remembered him walking like this towards his house to comfort or shout at his mother after his father was taken. Like then, we all watched him in silence.

Then I heard myself call after him: 'Crybaby!' But not even that made him turn round. 'Girl!'

After he had vanished inside his house, the boys looked at me. I pulled Kareem's knife out of the earth, erased the circle with my foot and said, 'I don't know why he's so upset. It's only a game.'

Osama, Masoud and Ali said nothing. It was lunch time anyway. We all went to our houses.

The Revolutionary Committee Mama and Moosa were expecting, those for whose sake Baba's books were burned, never did come that day. We ate lunch expecting them, cleared the table expecting them and went to have tea in the sitting room expecting them. Moosa was still there. He didn't leave to do the things he said he needed to do. I went to my room, closing the door behind me. I sat on the foot of the bed and thought about what had happened with Kareem. Voices in my head started telling me off:

'You know what you've done, don't you?'

'You know it or do you need us to tell you?'

'You betrayed him.'

'That's what it was: betrayal.'

'There's no other word for it.'

'Why, Suleiman? Why did you do it?'

'You are wrong about yourself

'You are a terrible person. You thought you were good, always believed it, but the truth is that you are a traitor.'

'Traitor! Traitor!'

'Remember what you wanted to be, dreamed you would be, were certain you would be, for Mama, for Baba, for Moosa?'

'An aeroplane pilot. An art historian like Ustath Rashid. A great pianist, although you hated the piano, with a black tailcoat that you would flick behind you before taking your place to play in one of the great halls of the world, just so that you could see their smiling faces in the front row, looking up at you.'

'Like kissing Baba's hand in front of his friends, you imagined these things too would make your chest glow with happiness and pride

'How many times you imagined their eyes gleaming with pride!'

'But you were wrong about yourself

'You have always been bad. Just waiting for your true nature to rise.'

'You see how bad you are now? This is only the beginning.'

'Things only grow in this world.' "What you are now is what you'll for ever be.' 'One's nature is like a mountain, you can't change it.' 'The only difference is, unlike a mountain, one's nature grows.'

'The devil has found a home in you.'

'And when the devil finds a home it likes it never leaves.'

'Warm, comfortable, he sleeps in your belly.' "When the Day of Judgement comes, when all that's unseen will become visible, your heart will be seen for what it is: empty and cruel.'

'As empty as a rotten chestnut.'

'Your deeds will be visible then in Eternity.'

'You'll never feel the pleasure of that secret warm glow smouldering your heart, that warm glow that is goodness.'

'Do you remember it tickling your chest every time you kissed Baba's hand?'

'Or when Kareem entrusted you with his secret love for Leila?'

'You loved that, didn't you?'

'Yes. "He's twelve," you said to yourself, "and I am nine, but he has entrusted me with his secret."

'And you betrayed him.'

I felt the first sting of tears in my eyes. I hoped they would come.

'And why did you betray him? Could you say why?'

I shook my head to say no.

'You can't tell him you didn't mean it.'

I shook my head again.

'You can't say it was an accident.'

A slip of the tongue.'

'No,' I heard myself say, and heard the tremor in my voice.

'You meant to hurt him.'

'No,' I said again.

'You did.'

'You even enjoyed it, admit it.'

I nodded.

'But Kareem is your best friend.'

'Yes,' I whispered, and the tears fell.

'Oh, Kareem is certainly kind-hearted. "You can see it in his face how white his heart is," these were your words. Traitor!'

'Traitor!'

I buried my face in my hands.

After a while I came out and washed my face. Moosa had left. I saw Mama getting ready to take a nap, pulling the curtains shut, turning on her beside lamp. She didn't notice me. When she was about to turn around I moved out of view. An excitement rushed through me. I thought this must be how it feels to be a police officer or a thief in one of those American films.

I went to watch television in the sitting room. I sat on the floor, cross-legged, only centimetres away from the screen. A man was sitting in a chair in a room. I turned the volume up slightly. The upper half of the wall behind him was the colour of sand, the lower green. It was chipped in several places, showing white beneath the paint. The man looked thin. He faced slightly to one side. His knees were touching, he looked like a school boy in detention. He wore a white shirt under a grey jacket. His clothes seemed too big, his shirt collar almost touched his ears. His cheeks were grey with stubble. Suddenly, and with such speed it was dizzying, the camera zoomed in on his face, moved left, right, until he was in the centre of the picture, then focused. A light was shone on him. His eyes squinted against it. It was Ustath Rashid. I waited for him to speak. Another voice mumbled something. I turned the volume up a little. It seemed that Ustath Rashid, too, didn't hear what the voice had said, he tilted his head slightly to one side. A shadow of a big hairless head fell on the wall behind him. The voice repeated the question: 'Were you present at the meeting?' Ustath Rashid nodded, then said, 'Yes, I was present.' But the word 'present' was barely audible. He was asked to repeat. 'Present, present,' he said. 'Who else was there?' Ustath Rashid looked again at the man with the hairless head. 'We will read a list,' the voice said calmly, 'and you will answer yes or no.' I heard the sound of shuffling paper before the voice spoke a name.