A story
Bayan and the Treasure Hunt of Ten Paper Clues
On the morning of her seventh birthday, Bayan found a folded piece of paper on her pillow. On the outside, in her big brother Nizar's wobbly handwriting, it said: CLUE NUMBER ONE.
Bayan sat straight up in bed. She unfolded the paper. Inside was a drawing of a tap with drops of water coming out, and underneath it said: Where do we wash the plates?
"A treasure hunt!" Bayan squealed.
She leapt out of bed and raced to the kitchen. There, taped to the tap above the sink, was another folded paper: CLUE NUMBER TWO.
But just as she reached for it, her little cousin Wisam came padding into the kitchen in his dinosaur pajamas. Wisam was four. He was staying with them for the whole weekend, and he followed Bayan everywhere like a small, sticky shadow.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the paper.
"It's my treasure hunt," said Bayan. "For my birthday. It's mine."
"Can I help?"
Bayan looked at him. Wisam was small. Wisam was slow. Wisam could not even read.
"No," she said. "You'll just get in the way."
Wisam's bottom lip wobbled a little. But he did not cry. He just stood and watched as Bayan opened clue number two.
It said: I am round and I tick, I hang on the wall. I tell you when it's time for school. There was a little drawing of a clock.
Easy! Bayan ran to the hallway, where the big round clock hung. Clue number three was tucked behind it. Then clue number four was in the bathtub, under the yellow sponge. Clue number five was in the shoe basket, inside Papa's left slipper.
Each time, Wisam came padding after her, a few steps behind. He did not say anything. He just watched with big, hopeful eyes.
Clue number six said: Look where the green things grow, where the little snails go. There was a drawing of a little plant pot.
Bayan ran out onto the balcony, where Mama kept her herbs in a long row of pots on a low wooden bench. Basil, mint, parsley, and a little lemon tree. She looked under every pot. She looked behind the watering can. She looked inside the bird feeder. She even looked inside the empty flowerpot by the door.
No clue.
"Where do snails go?" she muttered, and she stamped her foot. She looked again, and again, and her cheeks grew hot. Her birthday treasure hunt was stuck.
She turned around, frustrated. And there was Wisam, squatting down by the door, so low that his chin was nearly on his knees.
"I can see it," said Wisam quietly.
"Where?" said Bayan crossly. "I looked everywhere."
Wisam pointed. Not at the pots. Underneath the bench. Bayan bent down and squinted. There, far back in the shadow, a white paper was taped to the underside of the bench, right where a snail might sleep on a hot day. From up high, she had never been able to see it.
She tried to reach it, but her shoulders were too wide to fit under the bench. She stretched and stretched. Her fingers were still far away.
"I'm small," said Wisam. "I can fit."
Bayan looked at him. It was a good idea. She hadn't thought of it.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Be careful of the mint."
Wisam wriggled under the bench on his tummy, like a little lizard. Leaves of mint brushed his hair and made it smell fresh and green. He reached up, peeled off the tape, and wriggled back out again, with a smudge of soil on his nose.
"Got it!" he cried.
He held out the paper to her with both hands, beaming.
"Thank you," said Bayan. And then, because it was true, she said, "I couldn't have found it without you."
Wisam smiled so big that it seemed to fill his whole face.
Clue number seven said: I have keys but I'm not a door. You make music when you press me. There was a drawing of black and white stripes.
"The piano!" said Bayan.
But this time, before she ran off, she turned around. "Wisam," she said, "do you want to come with me? We can be a team."
"Yes!" said Wisam, and he ran to take her hand.
They found clue number seven inside the piano stool. Clue number eight was under the cushions of the big blue sofa, and Wisam found it first, because he could crawl right underneath. Clue number nine had a drawing of a moon and a pillow.
"That's easy," said Wisam proudly. "That's a bed!"
"Yes, but whose bed?" said Bayan. They looked under Bayan's bed, and Mama and Papa's bed, and Nizar's bed. Then Wisam said, "What about my bed?" And there it was, tucked inside the fold of his little camping mattress on Bayan's floor.
Bayan laughed. "Nizar is very sneaky."
Clue number ten was the last one. It was a drawing of a door with a big tree beside it. Underneath, it said: Go outside and look where we eat in the shade.
"The garden table!" they shouted together.
They raced down the stairs, hand in hand, and out into the garden. Under the big old fig tree stood the garden table. And on it sat a box wrapped in shiny paper with a big purple bow.
All around the table stood Mama, Papa, Nizar, and Grandma, smiling and clapping.
"Happy birthday, Bayan!" they shouted.
Bayan opened the box. Inside was a set of real paints in a wooden case, with twenty-four colors and three brushes. Bayan gasped. It was exactly what she had wished for.
"How did you find all the clues so fast?" asked Nizar. "I thought clue six would take you all morning."
Bayan looked at Wisam, who was standing quietly at her side.
"I didn't find them all," she said. "We found them together. Wisam is the best treasure hunter I know."
Wisam's ears went pink with happiness.
That afternoon, Bayan opened her new paints at the garden table. She gave Wisam the second-best brush and a big piece of paper, and they painted side by side under the fig tree. Bayan painted the treasure box with its purple bow. Wisam painted a very tall girl and a very small boy holding hands under a fig tree, with a snail smiling at their feet.
It was, Bayan thought, the best painting of the whole day.
Bayan sat straight up in bed. She unfolded the paper. Inside was a drawing of a tap with drops of water coming out, and underneath it said: Where do we wash the plates?
"A treasure hunt!" Bayan squealed.
She leapt out of bed and raced to the kitchen. There, taped to the tap above the sink, was another folded paper: CLUE NUMBER TWO.
But just as she reached for it, her little cousin Wisam came padding into the kitchen in his dinosaur pajamas. Wisam was four. He was staying with them for the whole weekend, and he followed Bayan everywhere like a small, sticky shadow.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the paper.
"It's my treasure hunt," said Bayan. "For my birthday. It's mine."
"Can I help?"
Bayan looked at him. Wisam was small. Wisam was slow. Wisam could not even read.
"No," she said. "You'll just get in the way."
Wisam's bottom lip wobbled a little. But he did not cry. He just stood and watched as Bayan opened clue number two.
It said: I am round and I tick, I hang on the wall. I tell you when it's time for school. There was a little drawing of a clock.
Easy! Bayan ran to the hallway, where the big round clock hung. Clue number three was tucked behind it. Then clue number four was in the bathtub, under the yellow sponge. Clue number five was in the shoe basket, inside Papa's left slipper.
Each time, Wisam came padding after her, a few steps behind. He did not say anything. He just watched with big, hopeful eyes.
Clue number six said: Look where the green things grow, where the little snails go. There was a drawing of a little plant pot.
Bayan ran out onto the balcony, where Mama kept her herbs in a long row of pots on a low wooden bench. Basil, mint, parsley, and a little lemon tree. She looked under every pot. She looked behind the watering can. She looked inside the bird feeder. She even looked inside the empty flowerpot by the door.
No clue.
"Where do snails go?" she muttered, and she stamped her foot. She looked again, and again, and her cheeks grew hot. Her birthday treasure hunt was stuck.
She turned around, frustrated. And there was Wisam, squatting down by the door, so low that his chin was nearly on his knees.
"I can see it," said Wisam quietly.
"Where?" said Bayan crossly. "I looked everywhere."
Wisam pointed. Not at the pots. Underneath the bench. Bayan bent down and squinted. There, far back in the shadow, a white paper was taped to the underside of the bench, right where a snail might sleep on a hot day. From up high, she had never been able to see it.
She tried to reach it, but her shoulders were too wide to fit under the bench. She stretched and stretched. Her fingers were still far away.
"I'm small," said Wisam. "I can fit."
Bayan looked at him. It was a good idea. She hadn't thought of it.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Be careful of the mint."
Wisam wriggled under the bench on his tummy, like a little lizard. Leaves of mint brushed his hair and made it smell fresh and green. He reached up, peeled off the tape, and wriggled back out again, with a smudge of soil on his nose.
"Got it!" he cried.
He held out the paper to her with both hands, beaming.
"Thank you," said Bayan. And then, because it was true, she said, "I couldn't have found it without you."
Wisam smiled so big that it seemed to fill his whole face.
Clue number seven said: I have keys but I'm not a door. You make music when you press me. There was a drawing of black and white stripes.
"The piano!" said Bayan.
But this time, before she ran off, she turned around. "Wisam," she said, "do you want to come with me? We can be a team."
"Yes!" said Wisam, and he ran to take her hand.
They found clue number seven inside the piano stool. Clue number eight was under the cushions of the big blue sofa, and Wisam found it first, because he could crawl right underneath. Clue number nine had a drawing of a moon and a pillow.
"That's easy," said Wisam proudly. "That's a bed!"
"Yes, but whose bed?" said Bayan. They looked under Bayan's bed, and Mama and Papa's bed, and Nizar's bed. Then Wisam said, "What about my bed?" And there it was, tucked inside the fold of his little camping mattress on Bayan's floor.
Bayan laughed. "Nizar is very sneaky."
Clue number ten was the last one. It was a drawing of a door with a big tree beside it. Underneath, it said: Go outside and look where we eat in the shade.
"The garden table!" they shouted together.
They raced down the stairs, hand in hand, and out into the garden. Under the big old fig tree stood the garden table. And on it sat a box wrapped in shiny paper with a big purple bow.
All around the table stood Mama, Papa, Nizar, and Grandma, smiling and clapping.
"Happy birthday, Bayan!" they shouted.
Bayan opened the box. Inside was a set of real paints in a wooden case, with twenty-four colors and three brushes. Bayan gasped. It was exactly what she had wished for.
"How did you find all the clues so fast?" asked Nizar. "I thought clue six would take you all morning."
Bayan looked at Wisam, who was standing quietly at her side.
"I didn't find them all," she said. "We found them together. Wisam is the best treasure hunter I know."
Wisam's ears went pink with happiness.
That afternoon, Bayan opened her new paints at the garden table. She gave Wisam the second-best brush and a big piece of paper, and they painted side by side under the fig tree. Bayan painted the treasure box with its purple bow. Wisam painted a very tall girl and a very small boy holding hands under a fig tree, with a snail smiling at their feet.
It was, Bayan thought, the best painting of the whole day.
