Dark Chronicles of Nooria 6

The large girl says to the teacher, "ma'am I demand the right to ask her one question."
"Go ahead Fereshta."
"I'm real curious kid. Why was you trying to kill yourself on Crete? If you knew what was coming?"
Quietly, "rather face God with one suicide on your rap sheet? Or prefer with 180,000 murders?"
Pindrop silence.
Teacher says, "ok class, back to somewhat more boring history."
Boos and catcalls.
As we change class, Fereshta slides in behind Arezou and me. "Cool, I was certain you'd jam out, give some silly nonsense. Best story we've ever heard."
Arezou wraps her arm round me in proprietorial manner.
Fereshta gives a goofy grin, "look Arezou, I know she's yours. Ain't trying to make you jealous. Just lemme ask her one question, then I'll scram."
Arezou nods.
"How does it feel to fry all them Jews? I mean in the dream?"
"First time at Jozefow, maybe 2,000. Feels totally sickening. Next few times, upset, not near as much. Half dozen times, just don't feel nothing no more. No love, hate, anger, fear, greed, envy. Like you're now the walking dead."
Fereshta goes away, happy with the explanation. I'm aware of Arezou's eyes on me, "you and me, friend, gotta talk next weekend. Sounds to me like a lot more than just a dream."

The English teacher stands. In a voice a sgt-major in the Prussian Army would approve of, "new girl, front and center."
I rise, uneasy.
Checks list, "Nooria Ahpay?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Speak up, can't hear you."
"Yes ma'am."
"Right Nooria, now in other English classes, you get to goof off to your heart's content. Not mine. Let's test you." Hands me a script. "look through it once, then read it aloud."
I'm in luck. Same passage from the story of the letter-writing girl. I read, eyes on the paper, unaware of the audience reaction. Everyone is staring.
Teacher smiles, "well Nooria, I better watch out for you. Grow up, take my job away. My English is not that good."
Arezou is just as bug-eyed as the rest. She hasn't heard me in English, only in Dari. Teacher points to Arezou, "you her Friend?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Front and center."
Arezou rises. Teacher ties a cloth on Arezou, like a turban. "Good, you'll make a more convincing man, bigger, taller. You and your lovely wife are about to fight over money. Read these scripts through once, then you're on."
Arezou rolls her eyes, pastes on the frown the script demands, "you spent way too much money on that shampoo. I think the real reason, you're trying to hit on that new neighbor."
Holding back a grin, I paste on a snarl, "says you! You blew all that money hanging out at the teahouse. Half that teahouse gang is gay. I'm starting to suspect you are too."
The script goes downhill from there. Once over, ordinary language class.

Breakfast is anytime you like, 7:00 to 9:00; supper, 4:30 to 6:30. But lunch is staggered into 2 shifts, there are 2,000 girls here. Our crowd adjourns to the mess. Long food line, but fast. Soon all us B14 types are sitting together.
Arezou has clued me in on taboos. Everyone has unpleasant stuff in her past. Never ever ask a girl anything about before she arrived here.
Gulazar turns to Arezou, "your Friend takes the biscuit. That smart-ass history teacher looked like she'd seen a six-pack of ghosts. Ain't nobody ever ever come up with a story that good. One thing I don't understand, how'd she know the end of the dream? It's Nooria's dream."
Arezou laughs, "want my guess, see the dream started from seeing a historical movie. So Nooria had the details right."
"Ok, but still, why on earth try to commit suicide? Why not hand around? Enjoy the pleasure of frying them?"
I'm starting to feel like a possession of Arezou, a non-person.
Arezou replies quietly, "sooner or later, we all face God. Isn't it better to do so with a smaller sin?"
"Ok, makes sense, but still disgusting. See, you die, someone else does the job. They ain't gonna let all them Jews live just cause some Major kills hisself."
Arezou replies, "true. But Nooria only answers to God for her actions, not what anyone else does."
"Ok, makes sense."
I can tell everyone is dying to know where I learned English, but taboo to ask. Meena asks, "Arezou, how come your Friend has a funny accent? All them teachers here gotta sorta phony Brit accent. She sounds almost American."
Arezou, "here in the organization, teachers have that Brit accent. Other places, it's maybe Amercian, Canadian, even Australian."
"But that means them other teachers are better than here. How else would Nooria know so good?"
Arezou guffaws, "rumor has it, in the outside world, you're an English teacher, you make triple what they do here."
Loud gasps.
Meena laughs, "yeah, here they's always broke."
Arezou corrects her, "not broke, low-budget. Never actually bankrupt, but never much to spend."
Meena raises an eyebrow, "there's a difference?"
Everyone laughs.
Meena grins, "well gang, guess who's gonna be an accountant when she grows up." Meena turns, speaks to me for the first time, "Nooria, don't know how on earth you gonna manage with an accountant. But if you can't, plenty other fish in the sea."
A fiercely jealous look flashes on Arezou's face.
"Oh lighten up, you moron, can't we even joke?"
Arezou's look disappears.
Just as I'm wrapping my head round this, Shauzia strikes up a conversation with me, the humor of the script in English class. Out of the corner of my eye, I'm watching Arezou, is she jealous?
Not on your life, I can see she approves. Then it hits me. Bigger ones play "butch" role; smaller, "femme". So I'm free to yap to a fellow femme to my heart's content. Talk with a butch and the green-eyed monster surfaces.
Shauzia finishes by hugging me and this draws no disapproval from Arezou.
As we return to class hand-in-hand, Arezou says cheerfully, "good, starting to find friends already. You'll fit ok."
Me? A femme? Ain't that a bit of a stretch? Try asking John Powderhorn if I'm sugar and spice, sweet and passive. Ask him after his nose stops bleeding and his black eye heals.

Math teacher says, "new girl, front and center."
I groan inwardly, pick on Nora day, I mean pick on Nooria day.
Checks list, "Nooria Ahpay?"
"Yes ma'am."
Checks her workbook, writes 1000 - 631 on the board, tells me to do it.
Fast, I slap down 369.
"How did you do that? Didn't borrow."
I explain the everything from 9, last from 10 concept.

Suppertime, I'm chatting with Shauzia; as Arezou does with Meena and Gulazar. No interaction between the 2 groups, may as well be at separate tables.
After supper, Arezou suggests we go for a walk, then shower. The taboo about asking about the past, that's girls in general. No such taboo exists between 2 Friends, ie butch and femme.
"So I'm curious, where'd you learn English?"
"Used to be Canadian. Lost in some mist. The AAW jeep found me, in a mountain pass. How I ended up in this school."
She looks at me strange, "ok, got the picture. Split personality, Afghan and Canadian. Forget the Canadian, you're an Afghan. So where'd you really learn? Aid worker lodge with your family?"
I nod.
"So why not just say so? And that dream, 40 times as much detail as anyone else. You have this total dissociation. Don't act like you're in your own skin. Rather be someone else. You are one mixed up little girl. Gotta forget all this nonsense, get on with real life."
I reply, "how do you know here is real? Can you prove it? Ever seen a sign "welcome to Kerguelen Island"? You could be having a dream, long involved ones like I get."
She wraps her arms round me, kisses me. "Ah hah, you're warm, a real body. Is real, not a dream. You're mine, all mine. And I think you're wonderful, even if you are a bit mixed up."

Next morning, history teacher say, "Nooria front and center. Now I want a second dream with history in it. Don't just stand there, tell it."
"Well you see, it's August 1, 1943. I'm pilot on board a B24, that's World War 2 US Air Force bomber. We take off from North Africa. It's a struggle, just getting airborne. Massively overloaded, 6,000 pound bombload. Lotsa ammo, lotsa extra fuel. See it's a 2,700 mile round-trip. Way beyond normal range of 2,100 miles fully loaded. We're going after the oil refineries at Ploesti, Romania. We travel in radio silence of course. Over the Adriatic, one of our planes ends up ditching. Miss our correct turnoff, fly over a train carrying flak guns, lose several planes. We're attacking Astra Romana, biggest of the refineries. Each plane given one specific building as target, mine is the A4 pumphouse. Delayed action bombs, 3 second delay. Don't wanna blow up from your own. Be at attack height of 150 feet."