Sewer Girls: Chapter 6

“You smell really disgusting,” Izabella states, crinkling her nose, “Oh, and weird. You smell absolutely horrible, like you just went swimming in a garbage can.”

I'm the last one to wake up, and Izabella is leaning over me, looking at me like I'm an alien. An alien that goes swimming in garbage can.

“Hush, Izabella, don't make your sister feel bad. They haven't let us take a shower in weeks. It's not her fault she smells like that,” chides Mother. I smell my arm, just to see how much Izabella was making up, and I gag. She wasn't making up any of it. Dried sewage doesn't smell any better than when it's wet.

“I have a present,” I say, reaching towards the corner of my bedroll. I pull out the soggy, smashed, and moldy bread crusts and pirogies. “Ta-da!”

“Food!” Izabella exclaims. She takes a pirogi and sniffs it. “These smell even worse than you do,” she says, wrinkling her nose again.

Mother's eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything. She just sits there, staring at the food in my hands.

“Mother, are you okay?” I ask her.

“Where did you get this?” She questions back.

“From a dumpster,” I mutter. Izabella, who had been about to take a bite of her pirogi, holds it far away from her with two fingers. She looks at me disgustedly.

“What dumpster?” Mother asks. She knows that there would never be any leftover food in one of the dumpsters here in the ghetto. People would eat it all.

“Um...” I say uncertainly “Uh, in the city.”

“How?” she asks again.

“Through the sewers...” I reply.

“My brave Sara!” Mother exclaims, pulling me into a hug. She releases me, telling me about how I should never go through the sewers, how it's too dangerous.

“But mom, we need food. We can't eat the rocks they give us,” I protest, “I was just helping. Please let me do it. I'll be careful,” I promise.

“I wanna help too!” adds Izabella, “I'm a really really good finder. I can find lots of food for us!”

“No!” Mother exclaimed. “No! Never!”

“But Mother--”

“No buts. I don't want you in the sewers too!” Mother cries.

“But Mother--”

“Time for bed now, sweetie,” she says, guiding Izabella towards her bedroll.

“But Mother, it's morning! I just woke up!” Izabella exclaims.

Mother lets go of Izabella's arm and trudges, defeated, out the door. I look towards Izabella and see her questioning face.

“She just wants to do what's best for us” I explain.

“I don't think she wants me to help,” Izabella says sadly, munching on her pirogi. I pick up one, too, and gnaw on the rubbery noodle.