Treasure of the World Tara Sullivan (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

the entry lot, I see Victor’s papi unpacking his lunch. The look on his face when he gets to his sock-wrapped potatoes is priceless. I snort a laugh and roll my eyes at Victor, pulling out the plastic bag Mami wrapped around my lunch.

“Want a piece?” I hold out the llama jerky.

Victor grins and reaches for it, but I don’t let go of the other end.

“You can only have it,” I say, very solemnly, “if you don’t put it in any of your socks.”

“I promise,” says Victor. His straight face is only ruined when he winks.

We eat quietly for a little while, and then Victor drifts off to chat with some of the other boys who work the mine. I wonder, if he stays out of school and if I go back to school, which one of them will replace me as his best friend.

Shaking off the thought, I lean on my elbows and tip my face up so the sun shines on it. Reaching into my pack, I grab my coca pouch and savor a few swallows of water. Then I spit out the old, pulpy leaf wad I chewed all morning and fold fresh coca into my cheek. The brittle leaves crack when I bend them and their dryness sucks the moisture out of my mouth. I wait for my saliva to soften them and think about the mess at home. I can’t stand the thought of having another night like last night. I need to find a way to make this up to Mami and Abuelita.

Then I smile. Thanks to Victor, I think I may have an idea.

When the whistle blows to signal the end of the midday break, it’s far too soon. Every muscle complains when I stand; every bit of my mind rebels at the thought of burying myself alive again.

I hobble over to where Papi, Francisco, and Guillermo are removing the chunks of rock they’d placed on either side of the wagon’s wheels to keep it still while we rested. Francisco completes his task in mechanical silence, pointedly ignoring me. I join Guillermo’s side and brace myself to push the cart again. Then we’re off, rolling into the mine.

The first time I trip, I’m not sure what did it. It’s only the third time that I see Guillermo’s foot. My patience already frayed by the long day and the men’s sour mood, I whirl on him.

“Knock it off! What’s wrong with you?”

Papi’s eyes flick to us when I speak, but then he ignores us again.

Guillermo doesn’t even try to deny it; he just chuckles in my face.

“Clumsy little girl.”

I glare at him, and as I do, I realize that under all the grime masking his face, he’s not much older than me. He has just the faintest fuzzy outline of a mustache starting.

“What’s your problem?”

“Everyone was talking about you at lunch.” He gives me a snarky smile. “Do you want to know what they said?”

I hesitate. Although, yes, I do want to know what the miners are saying about me, I don’t want to tell this unpleasant boy that. Besides, given his tone, I don’t think it was anything I’d enjoy hearing.

“They said,” Guillermo goes on without waiting for my answer, “that you were an abomination. That your presence is going to bring the wrath of the Tío down on us. That the best thing would be if you left and never came back, but stayed where you’re supposed to be.”

“It’s not permanent,” I mumble, reflexively echoing what César said to the unhappy miners the first day I arrived.

“Nope,” Guillermo says, “it’s not. And the less permanent it is, the better. So why don’t you do us a favor, little girl, and find your feet aboveground?”

I stumble when his leg swipes forward again, catching myself against the side of the ore bin to keep from falling. I burn inside at his words, but Papi is on the other side of the bin, and I don’t want to do something that he would consider embarrassing. I know I have to be careful, especially if all his buddies spent lunch telling him off for bringing me. That will have made him angry. He’ll either push back against all of them if he decides this was his idea, or he’ll take it out on me if he decides I’m to blame. The fact that Guillermo and Francisco and all the others think I want to be down here is laughable. This wasn’t something I picked because I thought it was a good choice. I picked it because I had no good choices. Guillermo swipes at my feet again and I dodge out of his way.

“Grow up or shut up,” I snap at him, and move to load the cart from a slightly different angle so as to avoid his feet.

I spend the next two runs trying to keep as much space as possible between myself and Guillermo. Naturally, this means I end up closer to Francisco. I decide, if Guillermo’s going to be a jerk, I can use all the allies I can find. Even if he does look ancient and dour, at least he won’t be immature enough to trip me like some bully on a playground. So the next time Francisco bends with me to lift a particularly bulky piece of rock into the bin, I speak up.

“Do you have children, Don Francisco?” I ask, figuring that’s a safe topic.

Francisco points his chin at Guillermo, whose turn it is to break up the larger rocks. “That’s one,” he says. “I have four boys.”

Great. They’re related. Now that I look, I can see the resemblance. Both men are tall and wrapped in wiry muscles from the hard labor of the mines. Both have similar narrow faces, though Guillermo is merely slim, while Francisco tips toward gaunt. When Francisco reaches into his coca pouch and adds a handful of leaves to his cheek, one side bumps out, and in a flash I realize why