She laughed at his question now. aYou hate me,a she told him flatly.

aWhoa,a he said. aWait a minutea"a aWe canat talk for more than two minutes without arguing, Roger.a Locke had the annoying habit of calling him by his given name. His own mother didnat call him Roger anymore, for Christas sake. aI didnat think pissing you off would help your recovery.a aI donat hate you,a he insisted. aYouare the one who . . . well, you hate me.a aAh,a she said, with a tight little smile that was really no kind of smile at all. aThatas right. Rednecks give me a rash. Thatas what it was.a God damn ita" Sam took a deep breath. Forced himself to stay cool. aRegardless of our personal differences in the past,a he managed to say, albeit a little bit tightly, aI just wanted you to know I was damn glad you were in that church tower that day.a Her smug little smile faltered.

Sam nodded curtly. aIam sure Iall see you around. . . .a Maaam.

Thatas all it would have taken. Just one little word, just a punctuation of respect, and the beginnings of a truce may well have been declared.

But when he opened his mouth, something else entirely came drawling out. a. . . sweet thing.a And instead of a truce, Sam saw World War Three declared in this womanas eyes.

He beat a quick retreat, the devil in him laughing, which, naturally, only made it all the more worse.

Megas cell phone rang, interrupting her singing.

She was singing to pass the time, singing to keep herself awake. Shead gone through all of the American, Russian, and French folk songs she knew, and had just started in on the English, Irish, and Welsh. aJohnny Has Gone for a Soldier.a aLlwyn Onn.a aButtermilk Hilla or aShule Aroon.a aHere I sit on Buttermilk Hill. Who could blame me cry my fill . . . ?a Most of the songs were about pain and despaira"an appropriate soundtrack for this terrible, awful day.

Osman Razeen still sat watching her, seemingly unblinkingly, as she answered the phone.

It hadnat yet been six hoursa"it had barely been five. Maybe Max Bhagat was calling to tell her that there was going to be a further delay. Oh, God, she didnat think she could handle that. She wanted John here now.

She didnat say anything into the phone, she just waited.

aMeg?a It wasnat Maxas voice. It had been years, but it sounded like . . .

aItas John Nilsson,a he continued.

Relief ripped into her so intensely she nearly dropped the phone. Breathe. Keep breathing. Keep holding the gun on Osman Razeen. He was watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake.

aWhat are you doing in there?a John asked.

Waiting for you.

aWell,a she said, when she could finally speak without sounding like Mary Richards imploring Mr. Grant to help her, aIave gotten myself into something of a situation here.a He laughed. God, had it really been years since shead heard his warm, rich laughter? It seemed like just yesterday.

aYeah, I couldnat help but notice,a he told her. aHow about you put the gun down, let those guys go, and I come in and we talk?a aThatas not how it would happen, and you know it.a If she put down the gun, a SWAT team or maybe Johnas SEAL team would burst through the door. Shead be on her stomach, face pressed against the tile floor, with her hands roughly cuffed behind her back in a matter of seconds.

He was silent for a moment. Then she heard him sigh. aWhat can I do to help you, Meg? Can I come in? Iam right outside the door.a aNo weapons,a she told him. aNothing under your jacket or shirt, Ensign.a aItas Lieutenant now. Junior grade.a Lieutenant. Of course. Head been promoted. It had been years since head been an ensign. aCongratulations.a aYeah, weave got some catching up to do.a He paused. aI just heard about Daniel. Ia"a Another pause as if head suddenly changed his mind about what head been going to say. aIam sorry for your loss. Look, Iall come in in my T-shirt, hands high. No weapons, nothing hidden, no threat.a She could do this over the phone. She should do this over the phone. But she wanted to see him. She wanted to look into John Nilssonas eyes and see reassurance that he was going to help her, that he could help her. aJust . . . promise you wonat try to shoot me or take my gun.a aYou got it.a aSay it.a aI promise.a aMake sure you open the door only wide enough to slip in,a she ordered him. aNo one comes with you. No sudden moves. Iam serious, John. Iall shoot these people if I have to.a aGive me a sec,a he said, ato get my jacket off.a The connection was cut. Meg put down the phone, held her gun with both hands, humming a bit more of that folk song to steady her nerves.

Yes, indeed, she and John Nilsson had some catching up to do. It was entirely likely that he was married by now, and if not married, then certainly attached.

But whether or not he was married had nothing to do with saving Amy. She and John Nilsson had once been friends. She was counting on him to remember that.

He knocked on the door. aMeg? Itas me. Iam coming in.a The door opened. Just a little. And he slipped inside the room.

Meg wasnat sure what shead been expecting. Possibly for him to be wearing his dress whites. Or at least some other kind of naval uniform. Instead he was completely dressed down in dirty BDUs, dusty boots, and a T-shirt that was stained with sweat. Black greasepaint smudged his face and he had a heavy stubble of beard covering his chin. His eyes were rimmed with red and lined with fatigue. Just like the first time theyad met, it had been a while since head last slept.

He was bigger, broader, taller than shead remembered, particularly with his arms up, fingers laced and resting on his head. With his arms in that position, his biceps were flexed and they strained against the sleeves of his T-shirt. His face had filled out some, too, making him look more like a man and less like a twenty-something kid.

But his smile was pure twelve-year-old despite the concern in his eyes. aHi.a Tears welled. Save me. Save Amy. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to help her. But this room was bugged. Everyone and their Kazbekistani brother and FBI sister were listening in. And Amyas and Eveas lives depended on her doing this right.

aMay I sit down?a he asked.

aNo,a she managed to say.

Surprise flickered across his face, but he quickly hid it. aOkay. Your rules. Iall stand.a He moved slightly, leaning against the wall, so that she could easily see both him and her hostages.

aYou wonat be in here for long,a she explained.

aOh, yeah?a he said. aBecause I was kind of hoping wead take a little time to talk. You know, so you could tell me what this is all about anda"a aRemember that folk song?a she interrupted, athat we always used to sing? You, me, and Amy?a Theyad never sung anything together, not even once. Not in Kazbekistan. And Amy hadnat even been homea"shead been visiting Eve in Englanda"those two weeks John had spent in Washington in the summer of 1998.

John blinked. Just once. But other than that, head managed to keep his face impassive.

aWhich one?a he asked evenly. aWe sang so many.a Thank you. He was as smart as he was handsome. And obviously willing to let her do this her way.

aIt was called aAchub Fi.a a Save Me. aDo you remember that one? The chorus goes, Save me, Save me, Save me,a she sang to him in Welsh to the tune of a Welsh folk song. aAmy and my grandmother have been kidnapped by Extremists from the Pit.a Her words didnat quite line up with the notes, but she forced them to fit. aThe Extremists have a spy so tell this to no one in this building, or theyall be killed. Save me, Save me . . .a aSave me.a He joined in, singing along with her. He had a terrible voice. aI remember you always loved that song. But we need to talk about what youare doing, what you wanta"a aI want a million dollars,a she told him in English, for the microphones. aIn small, unmarked bills. I want a helicopter, up on the roof, large enough for me and all three of my . . . guests. I realize it may take some time to make arrangements for those things, so in the meantime I want six pairs of handcuffs and a dead-bolt lock I can easily attach to this side of the door. Go.a John hesitated. aMeg, who put you up to this? I know you wouldnat do something like this on your own.a Meg knew he had to ask despite what shead just revealed to him in Welsh. His job as negotiator was to come in here and find out as much about this situationa"and her motives for being herea"as possible. He was playing out the scene for the cameras and the mikes.

aGet me those cuffs. Then maybe weall talk.a He still didnat move. aHow about if one of these mena"only onea"walks back out of here with me. As a show of good faitha"a aNo.a She knew head had to ask that, too, to make this look as real as possible for all the people listening in.

John nodded. And as he looked at her, he sent her a silent message with his eyes. I can help you.

She couldnat keep tears from blurring her eyes and she held her breath, knowing she would be unable to do anything but sob if she tried to speak.

aIall be back soon,a he promised.

aNo way can we give her those handcuffs,a said the FBI negotiator, a man named Max Bhagat who was calling the shots for this operation. aObviously she wants to cuff each of the hostageas hands to a different pipe underneath the sink. Look at the way the room is set up. Six sinks, three hostages. And what was that song she was singing? Does anyone know what language that was?a Lieutenant Paoletti looked at Nils.

Shit. aSheas really into world music.a He tried to sound casual. aShe knows the most obscure folk songs.a Now what? Pretend he didnat know this song was in Welsh, and risk having Bhagata"who seemed to be an incredibly thorough son of a bitcha"call in another languages specialist who just might be able to translate the Welsh words Meg had sung? Or tell a half-truth? He made up his mind.

aThis oneas in Welsh. Itas one of those story songs,a he improvised on the fly, aabout a woman who found out her husband was cheating on her. Itas got a lot of verses, and at the end she drowns her competition in a well. Really cheery little number.a Bhagat leaned forward. aIs it one of those suicide folk songs, where the narrator kills herself at the end?a aNo, no,a Nils said hastily. Christ, donat let him start thinking that Meg was going to blow away all of her hostages and then put a bullet into her own brain. If Bhagat thought that, head kick down the door in thirty seconds. aIt was just a song, sir. She always liked that melody. Iam not even sure if she understood the words. I mean, I translated them for her a few years ago, but . . .a Nils felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. Lieutenant Paoletti was watching him steadily. Nils had never asked, but head always thought his CO could tell when he was lying.

And brother, was he lying now.

To the FBI and the Kazbekistani officials.

It wasnat by choice. Nils was more than willing to tell Bhagat the trutha"but not with the K-stanis listening in.

aWhat exactly was your relationship with Margaret Moore?a Bhagat asked.

Shit again. Okay, start with the truth.

aI havenat seen her since July 1998. We met in Kazbekistan, at the American embassy there, in December of a97. We became friends. I was here in DC about six months later, heard shead separated from her husband and moved back to town, so I, you know, looked her up. Sheas a nice looking woman and . . . Well, we got together a few times . . .a Yeah, like a few times a day for two solid weeks. a . . . but it was strictly platonic, sir.

aTo be honesta"a He looked Bhagat in the eye, knowing that he did honest and sincere particularly well. aa"if shead said the word, I wouldave made the relationship more, um, intimate, but she was still married and intending to reconcile with her husband.a Her lying, cheating, sack of shit, completely unworthy of her husband.

aI donat know why she asked for me now.a And that was another bald-faced lie. He knew exactly why shead asked for him. Because he spoke Welsh. Because she was desperate. Because her daughteras life was at stake. aI mean, other than the fact that she feels she can trust me.a Bhagat was silent, gazing down at the notes head made on the legal pad in front of him.

aI think we should give her the cuffs sheas asked for,a Nils said for what seemed like the four thousandth time. aSheas on edge, sheas got that handgun aimed toward the ambassador and the other men at all times. Frankly, we should do everything we can to make her feel as comfortable as possible, and then just wait her out. She may have a small amount of food in her bag, but she doesnat have a lot. If we wait long enough, she might get so hungry, sheall let us bring food in. And then we can spike her chicken salad sandwich.a aShe wants the cuffs and the dead bolt because sheas afraid of falling asleep,a Lieutenant Paoletti commented. aSheas exhausted.a aNo dead bolt for the door. No way,a Bhagat said flatly. aThatas a no-brainer.a aI think our next step should be to wait, sir,a Nils recommended. aLet her wonder whatas going on. Let me go shower and get changed before I go in to talk to her again. If I go back in there still looking like I was yanked out of a training op, like Iave dropped everything to be here, sheas running the show. But if itas clear that Iave taken the time to shower and shave and maybe eat a nice meal, then the emotional ballas in our court.a Bhagat was nodding. But Nils had to drive the point home. aNo SWAT teams storming down the door, right, sir? Because if you call out that order, you should also order two body bags in advance. Because sheall shoot. Sheall only get off a single shot before the team can take her out, but she will take one of the hostages with her.a aAs opposed to her reaching her limit and taking out all three before we can even get up there?a Bhagat pointed out.

Shit. aSheas not going to do that, sir. I know her.a Nils looked beseechingly at Lieutenant Paoletti.

aI recommend taking Lieutenant Nilssonas advice,a Paoletti said in that easygoing, you-may-be-the-agent-in-charge-but-we-all-know-Iam-really-the-one-in-command attitude of his. He turned to Nils. aGrab a shower and some food and get back here.a Now Nils had to figure out a way to get the lieutenant to come out of the embassy with him.

aThereas a Marriott right across the street,a Paoletti added. aWeare billeted therea"I figured wead want the proximity. Wolchonokas already gotten you a room.a Senior Chief Wolchonok. The senior chief was how Nils was going to get Paoletti out of the embassy. All head have to do was make a phone call. Wolchonok would say, aL.T., hate to bother you, but we need you at the Marriott, ASAP.a aWhatas this about, Senior?a the lieutenant would ask.

aCanat tell you over an unsecured line, sir,a and Paoletti would be on his way. Grumbling, no doubt. But if Wolchonok asked, head come.

Getting the FBI over there was going to be a little bit harder.

Nils stood up. aExcuse me, gentlemen.a At Paolettias nod, he left the conference room and went out into the lobby, trying his damnedest not to run.

Save me. Christ, the look in Megas eyes as shead sung to him had nearly killed him. Nils was no stranger to desperation, but this was unlike any head ever seen. Maybe because that desperation was in Megas eyes, on Megas face.

K-stani Extremists had her kid. What were the chances that Amy was still alive? Minuscule. But until he knew otherwise, he had to play this as if the kid were still alive.

Tell no one inside this building. He wouldnat. But he had to figure out a way to get the FBI over to the Marriott. He supposed he could always call the Bureau, bring someone over who wasnat already attached to this situation anda"

aWhoa,a he said, stopping short. aLieutenant Locke. What are you doing here?a aLieutenant Nilsson,a Alyssa Locke greeted him coolly. aIam part of the team that set up the surveillance mikes and cameras giving us a look and listen into that menas room upstairs. And itas not Lieutenant anymore.a aYouare FBI,a he realized. Thank you, Jesus. He threw his arms around her, pulling her close in a hug. aPlay along,a he breathed into her ear. aPretend weare best friends.a He released her. aGreat to see you again. Hey, as long as weare all in wait mode, why donat you come on over across the street with me? Iam going to shower, then we can grab some lunch.a Locke looked at her watch. aI guess I coulda"a aGreat.a He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him past the checkpointa"manned now by U.S. Marinesa"and out the side door.

They skirted the mob of reporters and cameras and crossed the street at close to a dead run.

aWhatas going on, Nilsson?a Locke asked.

aI need your help.a Save me. Wolchonok was in the hotel, in a conference room right off the lobby, thank God, waiting for him. He raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch as he glanced from Locke to Nils.

Yeah, right, Senior. Yes, Locke was a babe, but not even Nils with his current scumbag rep was either stupid or horny enough to bring a woman back to his hotel room for a little midafternoon messing around right smack in the middle of a hostage situation. Assuming that Nils went for walking ice cubes like Locke in the first place.

Wolchonok greeted Alyssa with a nod. aLieutenant Locke. How are you?a aConfused. Nilsson, whata"a aSenior Chief, do you have a room for me?a Nils asked.

aYes, sir. L.T. said you were on your way over.a The senior chief held out a key card. aYouare in room 1712. Itas a suitea"lucky you, theyare short on rooms.a Another glance at Locke. aYouare doubled up with Sam Starrett.a aYou poor thing,a Locke murmured. aThat almost makes me feel sorry enough to forgive you for dragging my ass over here. What the hell is going on, Lieutenant?a Nils pulled them close, lowered his voice, and told them.

Maram wanted to kill the prisoners now.

Umar didnat want to deal with disposing of the bodies. He was tired after making the drive all the way from Washington. Even if they took them into the swamp and shot thema"eliminating the need to clean the blood off the walls and floors afterwarda"theyad still need to dig a pit to bury them. And even then it would be just their luck, he told Maram, if animals dug up the bodies, leaving various bits and pieces to be stumbled upon by the authorities. Where would that leave them?

The old woman and the little girl didnat speak the language, but they clearly understood that it was their imminent fate that was being argued about.

The man known only as the Bear sat silently, watching them.

The little one was still groggy from the sleeping drug, and she nestled closer to the ancient lady. Man, she was old. She looked as if shead lived at least a century already. But she still had her wits about her, and her dignity. Shead even managed to smile at him a few times. She was afraid, but she kept her fear in check.

It didnat seem right to treat her with such disrespect, to make her rest those old bones on the floor. If they were going to kill them, they should do it now, forget the inconvenience. But even though Maram had been his sister-in-law, back a long time ago, before his brother Yusef had been taken to prison and tortured to death, she didnat always listen to him.

aNana, tell me again about Dunkirk,a the little one whispered. Amy was her name. It was a good name for hera"it fit her long, curly hair and her heart-shaped face. She was a pretty little thing.

aEven though I was an American,a the old lady whispered back, aI was living in England in 1940, when Hitleras army attacked France.a Hitler. The Bear knew all about Hitler and his Nazis. His Yugoslavian grandfather, gone from this world for ten years now, had spoken of Hitler often, always spitting after saying his name. Hitler had been the devil on earth.

aMonths earlier, England had sent her army, the British Expeditionary Force, to help defend France from a German invasion. But when Germany finally attacked, it was like nothing the French or English soldiers had ever seen before. It was called Blitzkrieg. Lightning war. The German panzersa"their tanksa"moved at impossible speeds, covering dozens of miles of battleground in a single day. At the time, this was quite remarkable. It was terrifying for those of us listening to the radio reports, hearing of town after town that had fallen in what seemed like the blink of an eye.a This was clearly a story the old woman had told little Amy countless times.

aThe German air force,a she continued, awas called the Luftwaffe, and those planes rained bombs and bullets down on the British and French soldiers, most of whom were horribly unprepared to deal with any kind of battle, let alone this blitz of destruction. The French army was believed to be the best fighting force in all of the world, but they quickly crumbled. And they and the BEF were pushed back, all the way to the north of France, to the beaches of a little French town calleda"a aDunkirk,a the little girl finished for her. But then she lowered her voice, leaning closer to the old lady. aMommyas probably really worried about us, isnat she?a The old lady just held her tightly. She didnat try to lie to her. aYes, Iam sure she is.a Amy glanced across the room at Maram and Umar, fear in her eyes, then whispered even more softly. aIs she going to come for us and save us?a aI know she would if she could. But I donat know if she can.a The old lady looked directly at him, obviously aware that he was listening to everything they were saying. aDo you want me to tell more of the story?a Amy nodded, her head tucked close to her greatgrandmotheras skinny breast.

aSo there they were,a the old lady continued, a little bit louder now. He didnat have to strain quite so much to hear her. aOver a quarter of a million British soldiers. Stranded in Dunkirk, France. Separated from their homeland by the English Channel.a A quarter of a million . . . He translated the expression into his own language and . . . A quarter of a million was a lot of men.

aNow, the British navy was in something of a bind,a she said, abecause no one had anticipated France would fall to the Germans so quickly. There werenat enough ships to move all those men back to safety across that channel of water. And it didnat take long for the Luftwaffe to completely bomb all of the piers in Dunkirkas harbor. The water was shallow there, and the few large naval ships that were available couldnat get close enough to fetch the men. So the navy began appropriating all sorts of small boats. Ferries and fishing vessels. Navy officials came knocking on doors all up and down the coast of England, informing people that their boats were now a part of the British navy.

aOnce the word got out, all across England anyone who owned a small boata"pleasure yachts, dinghies, rowboats, truly anything that could floata"gathered in Ramsgate Harbor to help save our boys in the BEF from certain death. That harbor was right down the lane from where I lived. So I went, too. I was only sixteen, and I was a girl to boot, but I took my stepmotheras yachta"she was called the Daisy Chain and she could fit twenty-five people comfortably, fifty squeezed in tight and low in the water. I took the Daisy Chain into Ramsgate with all the others.

aIt was remarkable, Amy. Iad never seen so many boatsa"the little ships, they called usa"in one place before. We were an amazing motley armada. But we were determined to bring our boys home.

aIad really only meant to bring the Daisy Chain into Ramsgate and turn her over to the navy, but there were no extra men to take her across to France, so . . .a aYou tucked your hair up under your hat.a Amy gazed up into her great-grandmotheras eyes.

Maram must have lost the fight to lazy Umar because she stomped up the stairs. He could hear her slam a door shut.

Amy and her Nana would live at least until tomorrow.

Amyas Nana heard the door slam, too, but she only glanced briefly at him before returning her attention to the little girl. aGood thing I didnat have hair like yours.a She tugged gently on one of Amyas curls.

aYour hair was blond and so beautiful. Mommy says you used to look like a movie star.a The old lady batted her eyelashes. aDonat I still?a aYes.a He hadnat meant to say it aloud, but there it was. Now she knew for sure he was listening.

She didnat seem to mind. Instead she gave him another one of those dignified smiles. aThank you, sir.a Sir. He could count the number of times anyone had ever called him sir on the fingers of one hand.

aIam Eve,a she told him, as if they were meeting at a party. aAnd this is Amy, my great-granddaughter.a He glanced over, but Umar, Khatib, and Gulzar had gone into the kitchen and turned on the TV.

It was starting to drive him mad, the incessant yapping of the commercials and talk shows. aTurn it down,a he bellowed.

Umar shouted back, telling him to attempt the anatomically impossible. But the volume went down a littlea"no doubt thanks to Khatib.

aWhatas your name?a the old lady, Eve, asked him.

He looked toward the kitchen, but he was definitely alone in the room. He knew he shouldnat be talking to them. He should keep them silent. But with the TV on, Umar, Khatib, and Gulzar would never hear.

Head always loved the stories his grandfather had tolda"of fighting the Nazis with Tito in the mountains of Yugoslavia, and he wanted to hear how this story ended. It wasnat possible that a quarter of a million men had been taken across the English Channel by an armada of small boats. They mightave saved a few thousand, sure, but . . .

aIam called the Bear,a he told them, hoping he wouldnat get onto Maramas blacklist for admitting that.

aIam afraid I canat say pleased to meet you, Mr. Beara"for obvious reasons,a Eve told him. She looked down at Amy. aWhere were we?a aYou tucked your hair up under your hat.a aThatas right.a She gave the Bear another smile. aThis is her very favorite part. Iad learned to navigate the Daisy Chain the summer before, so I gave her full throttle and made the crossing myself. Now, Iave made that channel crossing many times, buta"and Iam awfully glad to say ita"Iave never made a crossing quite like that, before or since then.

aThere were mines in the channela"too deep to do any damage to the Daisy Chain, but that didnat stop the larger ships from being blown to kingdom come. German U-boatsa"submarinesa"were out in force, as well. Again, they didnat target us small potatoes. But the Luftwaffea"they were a different story. They bombed and strafeda"shot ata"the men waiting on the beaches, and us, as well, as we approached. But not one of the little ships around me turned back. Not a one.

aAs we approached, we could see the smoke from the battle. Dunkirk was burning, and it looked as if all of France were on fire.a He could picture her behind the wheel of a boat, chin held high as she sailed into a smoky storm of bullets and bombs.

aWe worked for days. I ferried men from the beaches to the larger ships, until those ships were filled. And then I took on as many soldiers as I could and headed back toward Ramsgate. I canat even tell you how many trips I took across the channel. The evacuation went on until the fourth of Junea"itas all rather a noisy blur.a aHow many men were saved?a Bear couldnat keep himself from asking.

The little girl spoke up. aNana helped save at least five hundred of them herself.a aPossibly as many as five hundred,a the old lady corrected her gently. aDo you remember the total number of Allied troops evacuated?a aThree hundred and thirty-eight thousand,a Amy announced, atwo hundred and twenty . . . seven?a He snorted his disbelief. aNo way.a aTwo twenty-six,a Eve said. aItas true.a She sighed. aBut what I wouldnat have given for that number to have been higher.a She glanced at him before she looked down into Amyas eyes. aTrue confession time. I didnat really cross that channel because I wanted to save all those stranded British soldiers. At least not at first. I first crossed the channel because I wanted to save one soldier in particular. I never told you this before, Amy, but even though I was only sixteen, I was marrieda"and I had been for a year. The man I wanted so desperately to save was the man I loved. He was my husband.a Amy sat up, her eyes losing some of her fear. aYou were married when you were sixteen?a aFifteen, actually,a Eve admitted.

aBut . . . Iave seen your wedding pictures. You told me you got married right after the war.a aWell, I did,a Eve said calmly. aI was marrieda"for the second timea"right after the war, when I was twenty-one. My first marriage wasnat exactly legal because I was so young at the time. And of course it was never consummated.a aWhatas consummated?a He was unfamiliar with that English word, too, but he could guess what it meant from the context. He studied his boot, wondering how the old lady was going to handle the question.

aDo you know where babies come from?a she asked the girl. Good start.

aOf course I do,a she scoffed. aGirls can get pregnant if they have unprotected sex with boys. Mommy talks to me about it all the time because some of the sixth grade girls in my school tease the fifth grade girls about still being virgins.a aDear God,a Eve said. She swiftly collected herself. aWell, in that case you know, then, that when two people get married, part of their relationship as man and wife is a sexual one, right?a Amy nodded.