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

startled at the motorcycle’s noise. I pick it up and open it to be sure. I gasp at the money inside: forty-eight bolivianos and fifteen centavos! That’s a lot to drop. I jog after her, but when I get there, the posada is shut down for the night, the door bolted. I tuck Yenni’s purse carefully into my manta. I’ll keep it safe for her tonight and give it back to her tomorrow, since she already invited me to come by and get some sweet bread.

Then, out of options, I head to the only other place where I know someone in Potosí: I go to see Victor.

I find the right building, push open the door, and click on my flashlight so I don’t stumble in the littered hallway. But when I get to the room at the back, two of the other young men are there, but Victor’s not. My eyes fly to his corner. I see the small pile of his things and breathe again. He’s not here now, but he hasn’t left forever. When you have very little, you don’t leave it behind if you can help it.

“Hey there,” says one of the guys, leering at me. I instinctively don’t like him.

“Hello,” I say, willing my voice to stay steady over the fearful thudding of my heart. There are no other doors in this room; no windows. I have no idea when Victor will be back. I begin to rethink the wisdom of coming here. At the time, I wanted nothing more than to get off the dangerous streets. Now I glance around this dark, cramped room and wonder whether the street would have been the safer option. The beam of the flashlight wavers slightly. I realize my hands are trembling and tense the muscles in my arm, refusing to show my fear.

“Leave her alone, Osvaldo,” comes a voice from the far corner of the room. The other guy pushes himself up on an elbow. “She’s the fighter’s friend, remember?”

“As if I were afraid of him.” Osvaldo snorts.

“Of course not,” the other one says soothingly, “but a friend of a friend, right? Let’s be nice to her, eh?”

“Shut up, Joaquín,” he grumbles, but he turns away from me and walks over to his corner.

I give Joaquín a grateful nod. He winks at me and then goes back to what he was doing. I force myself to relax, sit, and wait for Victor.

It seems like it’s hours later, though in the windowless space it’s difficult to tell the passing of time, when he finally walks in. His eyes go first to the light: I’ve put the flashlight on the floor beside me, pointed at the ceiling. The small circle of white light isn’t much, but in the otherwise dark room, it’s a beacon. From there, Victor’s eyes move to me and go wide.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It has been nerve-racking, waiting as the shadowy room around me filled with the shapes of strangers. My old terror from the mines clung to me like stale sweat, and I alternated between trying to be invisible and trying to appear fierce. Neither worked very well. Now, with Victor here, I feel safer. Though, looking at my shield, I wonder just how much he could stand up to before breaking.

Victor plonks onto the floor across from me. I pull the loaf of bread out of my folded manta and rip it in half.

“Here,” I say. “I brought you dinner. Again.” I put the larger half in his lap.

“Ana, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Bringing you dinner,” I repeat. “I said I’d be back to visit. Oh, and some light.” I point at the flashlight by my hip. “This way I won’t freak out in the dark tonight, and you don’t have to waste any more candles.”

Victor stares at the flashlight as if it he had never seen one before. He tries again.

“No, really,” he says, seeming to struggle for words, “why are you here? This isn’t a safe place. You went home. You’ve been gone for weeks. You’re supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be back to normal.”

“Eat,” I say, pointing to the food in his hands. I rip off a small piece of bread and put it in my mouth to show him how. He glowers at me, then bites off a corner and chews. Only then do I answer him. “I did go home,” I say, “but nothing is back to normal.”

I tell him about Daniel, my new family, and about César being sick. I whisper when I tell him about being too late to get the medicine because I don’t want the other boys in the room overhearing that I have money. I explain why I needed to spend the night.

Victor laughs softly.

“You know you’re in trouble when visiting me is your best bet and this place is your best option for a hotel,” he says.

“This is a terrible hotel,” I agree. “But you’ve always been my best friend.”

Victor gets quiet when I say that. “Thanks, Ana,” he whispers.

“So what did you do today?” I ask. “Did you fight again?” I can’t believe that I’m making small talk about him volunteering to get beat up in exchange for money, but I have to do something to get that sad, lost look off his face, and it’s the first thing that pops out of my mouth.

Victor moves his bloodshot gaze to me.

“Yes.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes.”

He’s not making this easy.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes.”

I huff in frustration and watch Victor finish his food. He seems sadder than usual, more on edge. Two and half more weeks of living this life have aged him even more than working in the mines did. I wish I had come up with something to offer him—wish I could have brought him hope instead of bread. But I didn’t, and clearly he doesn’t feel like chatting.

“Never mind,” I say. “We can talk more in the morning. I want to be at