The Adventure Begins

* * *

A hot orange sun beat down on the drifting sands of Egypt, where great pyramids rose up to greet a cloudless blue sky. There Ava, a girl of about ten years old, was fetching water with her trusty camel.

"Look at it, Sandstorm," said Ava to the camel, pointing at the majestic skyline. "Isn't it magnificent?" Sandstorm swatted a fly from his side, a gesture that looked an awful lot like a yes. "Imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that, to want for nothing! The palace ... it's simply beautiful."

Ava could only imagine what it would be like to live like a princess—to heave a heavy crown upon her head, to reign over all this beauty. But the reality was all Ava would be heaving was her heavy, water-logged bucket. She jerked it high upon her camel's golden brown back, put aside her daydreams, and prepared to journey home.

Home—

It wasn't what you'd think.

Among the great pyramids that rose up to greet the cloudless blue sky, only miles from the most magnificent palace you've ever seen stood a patchy, rundown hut with only one room. In its small front yard was a single pole to tether Sandstorm.

This was home, a far cry from palace gates and daydreams.

Reality had sunk back in. Ava jumped to the ground below, reddened dust kicking up from her sandals and billowing off in a desert breeze.

"You stay here," Ava warned, tying up Sandstorm securely before heading into the house. She hoisted the heavy bucket of water from the camel's back, almost spilling it to the ground.

"Ava, my gem," called her dad, "I'll carry that for you. Here, you get started on dinner, huh? I'm famished!"

"Yes, Dad," replied Ava gently.

Ava was a very good cook, which was quite a fortunate thing. Her dad burned toast just looking at it, and once he almost set what little house they did have on fire when he was trying to make stew!

After she lost her mother when she was only six, Ava had to learn to do things for herself. But she didn't mind. She liked taking care of her dad because he took awfully good care of her. That was the way her mother would have wanted it.

Without even having to think, Ava took some grain from an old jar and began to toss it, removing the hard, dirty shells. Then she reached into a thin, wooden barrel, grabbing a handful of dates. She meant to mix them in with the grains to make bread for a sweet treat, but she had once again gotten lost in a daydream.

Ava began to retell a story in her mind—a story that her mother had told her when Ava had been just a little girl.

"My gem." Ava heard her mother's voice loud and sweet in her memory. "Once upon a time there was a family who wanted for nothing."

"Who were they, Mother?" Ava asked.

"You know them very well." Her mother smiled. "This family had endless riches, Ava, the best of everything, and all of these many treasures came from a mythical red ruby with mystical, magical powers."

"How do you know all this?" Ava asked curiously.

"Oh, my gem, I've seen it! This ruby, it could grant wishes—any wish at all. But one day the ruby was lost.

The riches vanished. The family lost everything. Now they live in a patchy, one-room hut with nothing more than a pole to tether their prized camel."

Ava snapped back to the present. The grains were alone in a copper mixing bowl, the dates having fallen to the floor. Something about this story, this family, this home, Ava could not stop thinking about.

Then it dawned on Ava. What if this wasn't just another bedtime story? What if her mother had been right? What if this place called home wasn't really home at all?

The Trouble with the Truth

* * *

Bread piped hot from the oven, and the scent of warm, freshly cooked dates filled the air. Ava had made a decision to find the red ruby and return it to the rightful place in her family. But now the hard part came—telling her father.

But what would he say? Ava was about to find out, although she wasn't sure she would like his answer. But he was just outside, freshly home from work. He'd just stepped out to water Sandstorm and tend the yard. He'd be back any minute.

Mustering her courage a little at a time, Ava carefully pulled the hot bread from the oven as the doors of their small hut swung open. Ava looked up. There her father stood, framed against the pitch-black night. One lone star twinkled in the distant sky, revealing just a hint of the palace Ava daydreamed about.

Ava's father, Ali, was like all the other Egyptian workers. He labored very long hours and was paid very little for his efforts. He had dark circles under his eyes from working from early morning until late at night. He gave her a gentle smile as he removed a dingy auburn cloth from his suntanned skin. Ava's heart raced as he padded over to sit at the table where Ava was already sitting to enjoy her bread.

Though Ava wanted nothing more than to ask the burning question in her mind, they ate their dinner in silence. She waited for the perfect opportunity to ask the question she was afraid to ask—maybe the most important question of her life.

"Father," Ava blurted out as if the word had been held down by a floodgate, "the stories Mother told—Were they true? You know, the ones about the red ruby?"

"Well, do you believe they are true?" her father answered. "In your heart, Ava, do you believe?"

"I do, Father," Ava replied without needing to think. "That's why I need to ask you something very important." She took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. "Would you permit me to go on a journey to find our ruby?"

Just as Ava had feared, at the mere mention of the ruby her father flinched. "No! Absolutely not, Ava. The ruby is most likely hidden in a very dark cavern. Danger is not made for young girls, and I am not going to lose my only daughter, my greatest treasure, for worldly riches."

Ava searched her father's face. His cheeks were weathered with dirt, his eyes wrinkled and worn with worry. She understood why her father didn't want her to go. It was the same reason she needed to go. Ava didn't want to trade her father for riches either, and that's what she felt like she was doing—every day. She barely saw him since her mother died. He...