"Rafi!" said his father. Rafi looked at Asif. "You and Maryam go on up there. We will say goodbye now." He grabbed Rafi in a tight embrace. "Call us from New York," he said. "Become a great dancer. You are already a great man." Asif pushed him away. "Go!" The crowd gave Rafi no chance to argue. It pushed him and Maryam closer to the gate, away from his father, away from the man who loved him more than any other man ever would, and there was nothing Rafi could do but keep going forward. The gate was within reach now. All they would have to do was crawl up the bank of the gully, out of the sewer water, and up to the soldiers. Rafi stuck his hand under his collar, ready to pull up the pouch that contained their papers, their passports to a better, safer life. His other hand was so completely fused to his Aunt Maryam's hand, it was like they were welded together. Two more steps, and they were at the edge of the water.  Three big steps, and they were out of the gully.  A dozen more steps on dry land, and they would be at the gate, and then through it. And that's when the explosion happened. Excerpted from One More Mountain by Deborah Ellis All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.