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

that Daniel is well enough to go back to work. Daniel’s bronchitis had deepened to pneumonia, which had taken nearly three weeks to heal. I had figured once Daniel’s fever was gone, his cough had settled, and he was eating regular food, Papi would have had him straight back into the mines. But for whatever reason, Papi left Daniel home another week beyond that. None of us brought it up, and so Daniel’s days home multiplied quietly.

I was torn about it, really. It was good to see Daniel get a bit of color in his cheeks, but I was still working in a living hell every day and it was hard to come home and see him sitting on the slag heap with Mami and Abuelita, breaking rocks and chatting when I had to spend the day in the land of the devil, hauling ore and dodging insults and kicks when César’s handpicked guardians were too far away. I didn’t want Daniel to have to go into the mines . . . but I didn’t want to keep going there myself either. After only two and a half weeks working in the mines I had started to walk like an old person, hunched over, bones aching. And after my one week in zone six, where the air smelled slightly garlicky, I developed headaches and a cough I still haven’t been able to get rid of. Nothing like Daniel’s coughs, of course, I keep reminding myself, but they hurt all the same.

So when Papi tells me to take off my mining gear this morning, I don’t complain. I do as he says, feeling relieved and upset all at the same time. Daniel takes it from me and pulls it on, and it’s hard to figure out the emotions on his face. I give him a quick hug on his way out the door.

“Say hi to Victor for me,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says, and then he’s gone.

I glance around our one-room house for a moment, not sure what to do with myself. Mami and Abuelita are still staring out the door at Papi and Daniel, shrinking in the distance.

“I guess . . .” I start, then clear my throat and start again. “I guess I should go to school?”

“No,” says Mami firmly, turning from the door. “You’ve earned a rest. Take the day and sleep. We’ll get back to normal tomorrow.”

I’m just as pleased, really. Not only am I beyond exhausted, but I was actually kind of nervous about going back to school. The way the older miners have talked about me behind my back for the past month hasn’t been fun, and it kind of shook me that someone as young as Guillermo would hate me for doing what I did. I worry that maybe the kids at school will judge me the same way. I don’t want to see those same glares on the faces of people who used to be my friends.

I roll into the covers and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When I wake, I go outside and scrub until my hands are raw. I’m not going back to school until I have clean hands.

The icy water stings and the lye soap is rough, but even so, my hands are still faintly gross and my fingernails have definitely seen the inside of a mine. Giving up, I dump out the wash water. Then, because Mami has declared it’s a vacation for me and I have no work to do, I start playing with the puddle of mud it makes, scooping it up and making little figurines. It’s something Daniel and I used to do when we were younger and we were both home playing while Mami broke rocks and Papi worked in the mines. It makes me feel all squishy inside thinking about how different those days were, and I feel bad all over again that Daniel is working in the mines right now.

It’s not your fault he’s there, I remind myself sternly. In fact, you’re the only reason he wasn’t there this whole past month. The only reason he got a break was because of you.

It’s all true, of course, but it doesn’t make me feel much better. I make a special little mud figure for him. I’ll give it to him tonight after work.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Daniel’s voice is tired but curious as he turns my figurine over in his hands. “A butterfly?”

We’re sitting side by side in the moonlight again, our family asleep around us. Dinner was weird. I thought they’d all be in a good mood with having the girl out of the mines and the boy back in them, especially since Daniel didn’t come home sick this time, but instead Papi snapped at everyone about everything. Mami and Abuelita looked unhappy too. I decided to wait until they were all asleep to give Daniel his present.

“It’s an angel,” I say, slightly embarrassed he can’t tell what it is.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Why did you make me an angel?”

“Remember when we used to make toys out of mud when we were little? Well . . . now I know what the mines are like. I feel kind of bad that you have to go at all.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not seeing how these things connect to a mud doll. I feel a little stupid, but I charge ahead.

“You said that you hate going into the mines because the air is so bad. When I was down there, it always killed me that there was no sky.” We’ve been speaking in Quechua, but for the pun to work, I switch into Spanish. “I thought maybe it would be nice if you could take a piece of el cielo down with you.” In Spanish, the word for sky and the word for heaven are the same.

Usually, Daniel loves puns. But tonight, instead of laughing, he smiles sadly.

I hold out my hand.

“It’s dumb. I’ll take it back.”

He closes his fingers around it and tucks it away.

“Nah. I