Glass Collector Read Online Free PDF

animals’ skin. The pigs are spread out in different enclosures throughout Mokattam, and the hotels and tourists of Cairo would go without pork, bacon, and sausages if it weren’t for the Zabbaleen’s pig-rearing.
    “No one’s filled the water up.” Aaron bristles at the sight of the empty trough.
    “I’ll do it!”
    Abe drops the bag and races for the limp, bent hose hanging from the tap. Swinging it around his neck, he twists the screeching tap until water starts to flow down his blue shorts and bony legs before stretching the hose to fill up the rusty trough. Aaron empties the waste from the bags into a heap beside the fence.
    These pigs belong to four different families, but they leave their care to whomever is the last to dump rotten food here. The deal is that everyone fills the water trough, though. It’s never been empty before, so something’s gone wrong. Aaron frowns, then breaks into a smile, taking pleasure in watching the smallest pig snuffle his way through the overflowing water. As Aaron and Abe turn to leave, Shareen appears, pushing the creaking wheelbarrow.
    “There you are again.”
    “What are you doing here?” Abe asks. “You’re too late. We’ve finished.”
    “I wasn’t talking to you.” Shareen drops the barrow with a thud. “I’ve been looking all over for Aaron.”
    “We’ve emptied the food now.” Aaron gazes in awe as she runs a dainty bare foot over the barrow’s front wheel to display her new toenail varnish. The red color—dark and rich, the same shade as plums—shocks him. The thought occurs to him that after all her yelling and her father walking off in a huff, she’d calmly sat down to paint her toenails, then come to find him as an excuse to walk through the village and show them off.
    “How do you get that stuff off your toes?” Abe asks, goggle-eyed.
    “You don’t.”
    Shareen twists her ankle up and down and from side to side, to give them a better view of her delicate foot from every angle, while throwing in quick flicks of her shiny black hair. All of this has the desired effect of hypnotizing Aaron and Abe, firmly rooting them to the spot, open-mouthed.
    “You just paint over it when it chips. Malia’s done ten layers so far, but her toes don’t look good anymore. You can overdo things, you know.”
    Aaron and Abe respond to her pouty smile with a sneaking awareness that girls—any girls—can ambush their thoughts and feelings just by waggling red-painted toes. Luckily, Aaron comes to his senses and grabs Abe by the shoulder.
    “Let’s hope the football’s still where you left it.”
    He strides ahead, arm resting on Abe’s shoulder, leaving Shareen to straggle behind, clutching the handles of the barrow high in the air to allow for the best view of her feet as she trots along.
    “Jellyfish were alive before dinosaurs,” Abe announces.
    “How do you know that? You weren’t there then,” Shareen shouts crossly.
    “Leave him alone,” Aaron warns. “He knows everything there is to know about jellyfish.”
    “Yes, shut up.” Abe turns to glance at her. “For six hundred and fifty million years there have been jellyfish on earth, with tentacles longer than a soccer field.”
    “You expect people to believe that?” Shareen laughs, but her mind drifts off to imagine a huge, slippery jellyfish lolling in front of the goalposts of the International Stadium, hundreds of tentacles reaching across a sea of green.
    “Have you had anything to eat today?” Aaron asks Abe.
    “Not yet.”
    “Follow me. There should be some bread left.”
    Without another word they cut through an alley as the beautiful sound of the call to prayer echoes over the city. Eyes to the sky, Shareen follows behind, with a jellyfish fight playing in her head. They carefully avoid disturbing the heaps of stinking bags packed tight against the walls of the open-sided buildings and head toward the last lane on the left, where Aaron lives. By the time they reach home Shareen