A Thousand Splendid Suns

with her books pressed to her chest, like a shield. Hasina was twelve,
three years older than Laila and Giti, but had failed third grade once and
fourth grade twice. What she lacked in smarts Hasina made up for in
mischief and a mouth that, Giti said, ran like a sewing machine. It was
Hasina who had come up with the Khala Rangmaal nickname-Today,
Hasina was dispensing advice on how to fend off unattractive suitors.
"Foolproof method, guaranteed to work. I give you my word."
"This is stupid. I'm too young to have a suitor!" Giti said.
"You're not too young."
"Well, no one's come to ask for my hand."
"That's because you have a beard, my dear."
Giti's hand shot up to her chin, and she looked with alarm to Laila, who
smiled pityingly-Giti was the most humorless person Laila had ever
met-and shook her head with reassurance.
"Anyway, you want to know what to do or not, ladies?"
"Go ahead," Laila said.
"Beans. No less than four cans. On the evening the toothless lizard
comes to ask for your hand. But the timing, ladies, the timing is
everything- You have to suppress the fireworks 'til it's time to serve him
his tea."
"I'll remember that," Laila said.
"So will he."