The Treasure of Maria Mamoun Read Free Page B

apartment. The old lady had given her a dry T-shirt and sweater that smelled of her husband’s hair oil, even though he’d been dead for over five years.
    â€œI wish we had someone else nearby,” Maria said. “Someone around all the time. Like real family.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m all you’ve got,” Celeste said.
    â€œBut what if something really does happen?” Maria had tried not to ask that, but her mother had asked it first.
    Celeste hugged Maria though she was sopping wet. Maria couldn’t help it: she suddenly started to cry. She cried great big racking sobs. She sobbed until her stomach hurt and the bathwater cooled. Her mom hugged her and waited. When she quieted, Celeste said, “ Qu’est-ce que c’est? Tell me the truth.”
    â€œEven when everything is okay,” Maria said, “I hate it here. I hate this building, those girls, and my school.” She hadn’t realized it till she said it, but once she had, she knew it to be true. “And I never see you! You’re never here! I’m always alone!”
    â€œI know.” Celeste’s voice sounded tight. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œIt’s just…” Maria didn’t want to upset her mother any more than she already had. “Do you remember that day we went to the beach? I loved that. Why can’t we do that kind of thing more?”
    Celeste stopped stroking Maria’s wet hair. “It’s not always so easy to find the time.”
    Maria worried she’d gone too far.
    â€œI’m okay now, Mama. I was just upset. And it won’t happen again. I’m usually more careful. I just messed up.”
    Celeste stared at her for a long time, as if she were thinking about something important.
    â€œYou didn’t mess up,” Celeste finally said. “I messed up. You shouldn’t have to be careful.”
    â€œIt’s not your fault.”
    â€œBut it is.” Celeste looked grim and determined. “I’m the adult.”
    â€œBut what can you do about it?” Maria said.
    â€œI don’t know, chérie ,” Celeste said. “But I’ll think of something.”
    Celeste didn’t make Maria return to school the next day. And anyway, Maria didn’t want to go back to school and face the Bad Barbies. She was pretty sure they’d be looking for revenge.
    So Maria sat at the kitchen table, doing the schoolwork she was missing. Principal Toussainte had at least that much mercy—after Maria’s mother called him to explain, he agreed to let Maria finish out the year at home.
    Mostly, Maria spent her days listening. She listened for the Barbies coming back from school, roaming around the building, their hooting laughter, their mothers’ hollers and slammed doors and stomped feet. She was scared all the time, though she pretended to be okay for her mother’s sake.
    But Celeste knew she wasn’t okay. She knew, because she was watching her daughter closely. The day after the attack she quit both her jobs. So now she didn’t go to work and she didn’t leave Maria alone in the apartment except to go shopping for necessities.
    Celeste spent her days on their ancient computer and on the phone, and her nights sorting and packing and making more phone calls. On the sixth day, Maria woke to an empty apartment. Everything was gone: to the curb as trash, to the building superintendent for donation, or stuffed into four large duffel bags.
    â€œ Fais vite , chérie! Our taxi is coming!” Celeste hovered in the bathroom door. “Wash your teeth quickly!”
    â€œ Brush your teeth, Mama.”
    â€œYou should brush your hair, too, but we don’t have time.” Celeste snatched the toothbrush, still wet, from Maria’s hand and shoved it in her purse. “Help with the bags.”
    Celeste locked up the apartment and slipped the keys under the floor mat. The Bad Barbies were