The Treasure of Maria Mamoun Read Free Page A

Maria’s project up. “I guess I can’t use this then. My family ain’t terrorists.”
    For a moment Maria thought Sharpie was going to hand her the project. But the Barbie snatched it back from Maria’s reaching hand.
    â€œWhy you always got to be the goody-goody, doing your homework on time, handing it in like you the best? You always trying to make the rest of us look bad.”
    â€œI’m not trying to make you look bad,” Maria said. “Can I please have it back?”
    â€œCan I please have it back? Can I please have it back?”
    The girls passed the project over Maria’s head.
    Maria was tired of it. She wanted to get out of the rain. She wanted her project. She lunged for the poster and missed. And her open hand came down hard on Skinny’s beefy shoulder.
    â€œOh no you didn’t!” Skinny grabbed Maria by the hair, sending her barrette flying.
    Now they all joined in, pushing her back and forth, tripping her so she stumbled and catching her just before she fell, only to push her again. The sidewalk became a blur of hair and hands and ugly voices. Their sharp nails flashed, and Maria covered her face with her arms …
    Suddenly Tante Farida hurried over in a great blustering fury, waving her umbrella and calling Maria’s name. She swung through the Barbies, her tiny feet amazingly swift, and grabbed Maria by the arm and steered her with surprising force across the street and into the Colony Fried Chicken. Then she locked the door behind her, much to the fry cook’s surprise.
    â€œWhat you doing locking my door? I’ma call the police, you don’t go right now,” he yelled.
    â€œYou’ll keep the door locked and hand me that phone if you know what’s good for you, Mr. Sesay,” Tante Farida said. She peered through the glass door. The Barbies huddled under the shelter of the Olympic Theater and stared across the street at the Colony Fried Chicken, talking to one another.
    Mr. Sesay handed Tante his cell phone.
    The Barbies crossed the street and came up to the door. Shy Girl tried the handle. Then she cupped her hands to the glass and peeked through. Tante Farida glared back at her and gestured to the phone.
    â€œI’m calling 911!” she yelled, though in fact she was calling Celeste Mamoun.
    â€œWe was just messing with her! Jeez, lady!” Sharpie threw Maria’s project to the curb, where it was promptly run over by the Riverside bus.
    *   *   *
    Later that night, Maria took a long hot bath. Celeste sat on the tile floor, looking worriedly at her. It had been years since she’d sat with Maria while she bathed, but Maria didn’t mind tonight. It made her feel safer.
    â€œBut what did they do to you, chérie ?” Celeste asked for what must have been the tenth time. “Did they hurt you?”
    â€œNo, Mama. They just pushed me around.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to make sure they get more than in-school suspension. What good is that? They can still get you walking home. It’s like that gang stuff is happening all over again…” Celeste pressed her fingers to her lips. “I’m so sorry, habibti. ”
    Habibti is Arabic for “my darling,” and Celeste only called Maria this when she was very worried. It worried Maria to see her mother so worried, and she struggled to stay calm herself.
    â€œReally, it’s no big deal,” Maria said. “They’re not a real gang. They’re just wannabes.”
    â€œBut what about in a few years? When they go from wannabes to actually being? What if something really happens?” Celeste said. “I could get you a phone, but who would you call? And I’m so far away I can’t help.”
    Maria nodded. It had taken her mother hours to get home. She had to hand her patients off to another nurse, then take two trains back. The whole time Maria waited, shaking, in Tante’s