Laura Schroff - An Invisible Thread: A Young Readers Edition

Praise for

An Invisible Thread

A Young Readers Edition

The lifelong lessons you learn challenge you to be a better you.

I think it should be required reading for middle schoolers; we could all learn a lesson from Laura and Maurices relationship.

Clare Goldsholl, thirteen years old, seventh grade

[ An Invisible Thread ] shows you can overcome difficult obstacles.

Grace Goldsholl, nine years old, fourth grade

I felt happy, nervous, and excited for Maurice at times while reading it. This book taught me about kindness, thoughtfulness, and selflessness.

Juliet Jackson, ten years old, fifth grade

I particularly liked how Maurice was so confident and positive. It made me realize how lucky me and my friends are and how easy our life is.

Dashiell Lubsen, nine years old, third grade

I felt like Maurice and Laura were there with me sharing their story

and special friendship. I learned that even when things seem hopeless, there are people who really care and will help.

Ella Michalisin, ten years old, fifth grade

We should all help each other more.

I think Maurice and Laura are great role models.

Liam Michalisin, thirteen years old, seventh grade

In Lauras situation, she was able to help change Maurices life

by being kind, and this is amazing.

Calli Reid, eleven years old, sixth grade

[ An Invisible Thread ] taught me to treat people with respect

and with kindness. After reading this book I will now be more

grateful for the things I have and the family I love.

Lila Smith, eight and a half years old, third grade

To all the children like Mauricenever lose hope and never stop dreaming, because the power of dreams can lift you.

And to all children who will never be food-deprivedalways count your blessings and keep sharing threads of kindness.

LAURA SCHROFF

This book is based on the true story of Laura Schroff and Maurice Mazyck. Some events have been condensed, rearranged, or slightly dramatized to better suit young readers.

MAURICE WOKE UP IN the closet.

This was where he woke up most mornings. A small, dark closet. He slept there because it was the only quiet place in the apartment where he lived. The apartment was only one room, and sometimes as many as eleven people lived and slept there at the same time. The room had only two single beds, where his two older sisters slept, and his aunt, and maybe a cousin or two. The beds had no pillows, no blankets. Over in one corner there was a chair and on the opposite side was a half a fridge and a small TV. And that was it.

There were always at least four or five grown-ups around, staying up late and making lots of noise. Thats why, some nights, Maurice sneaked away to the closet, closed the door behind him, curled up, and drifted to sleep on a thin mat on the floor. It was a little cramped, and kind of spooky, but at least it was his own private space.

Maurice was eleven years old. He was tall for his age, but skinnier than most of the other eleven-year-olds he knew. His burgundy sweatpants, which were a few sizes too big, barely stayed up on his waist. He had no choice but to wear them, even when they were dirty, which they always were, because they were the only pants he owned.

On this September morning Maurice woke and eased open the closet door. He stretched his long arms up toward the sky and looked around the apartment. Since there were no curtains on the windows, the room was filled with sunlight. Even so, everyone in the room was still asleep. Maurice counted the peopleone, two, three... ten. Ten people, not including him. His mother, Darcella, was sleeping. Maurice went over and nudged her shoulder to see if she would budge, but he had no luck. His mother had a funny look on her face that Maurice was very used to seeing. The look meant she was off by herself in some far-off world, and she couldnt be reached.

Maurices mother was sick. He understood that. He wasnt sure what her sickness was, or why it made her act the way she did. He just knew that Darcella couldnt always be like other moms. She couldnt always buy him new clothes, for instance, or make sure he had a warm bed to sleep in. She couldnt always remember if he was fed every day. Stuff like that.

But just because she was sick didnt mean she didnt love him. Maurice knew his mother loved him more than anything in the world. She just couldnt always show it, because of her sickness.

Over in the corner, in the only chair in the room, sat Maurices grandmother, Rose, her eyes closed. Maurice couldnt tell if she was asleep or just resting. Either way, he didnt want to go near her. Grandma Rose was a tough lady. She was a tiny little thing, just shy of five feet, but she wasnt afraid of anything or anybody. Grandma Rose spoke her mind and said whatever she was thinking, even if it upset everyone around her. And if someone got sassy with her, she might even take a swing at them. Knock them right in the nose. People in their community knew Grandma Rose didnt take well to being disrespected. The way to deal with Grandma Rose was to just let her be.

Yet when it came to Maurice, Grandma Rose was sweet and kind. She had a real soft spot for her grandson. Youre a good child, she told him all the time. Grandma Rose looked out for Maurice and made sure he knew shed always be there to protect him. For Maurice, Grandma Roses attention was like a great big beautiful gift, and he loved her just like he loved his mother. For a brief moment he thought about going to her chair and nudging her to see if she was awake, just to have someone to talk to, but he decided against it. Better to just let her be.

Maurice looked around the apartment. His two sisters, Celeste and LaToya, were asleep on one bed as usual, twisted around each other, arms and legs everywhere. Maurices aunt and her two young children, Maurices cousins, were asleep on the other single bed. Three grown men were asleep on the floor. Maurice recognized themthey were his uncles. Uncle Juice, Uncle Big, and Uncle Old. Maurices uncles came and went from the apartment, and Maurice never knew if they would be there or not. Sometimes they stuck around for a few weeks; other times they just dropped in for a little while. Maurice had three other uncles, and sometimes they slept there too. They were all nice to him most of the time, but they all seemed too busy to be bothered with him much. Mostly they ignored him.

Maurice understood that the adults in his life didnt have much time for children. Thats just the way it was. As far as Maurice knew, it was the same for kids everywhere. So why would his life be any different?

Maurice went over to the small, half-size refrigerator that was sitting on the floor of the apartment. A tiny television sat on top of it. Maurice opened the fridge and looked inside. The lightbulb was missing, but he could still make out the layer of grime coating the single shelf. And he could tell there was no food. No milk or butter or cheese slices or anything. Just a bottle of water and a box of baking soda, which Maurice knew not to touch. Another side effect of his mothers sicknessshe couldnt always remember to stock the fridge.

Maurice felt a familiar pang in his stomach. It felt like hed swallowed a heavy rock and now it was just sitting there inside his belly, weighing him down, making him miserable. It was a dull, endless ache. Like someone had punched him in the gut.