Crunch by Rick Bundschuh

entrance to each shower room.
    â€œI need someone who is willing to wash feet!” Sarah called out.
    A couple of the girls gave each other curious looks and then raised their hands. Several guys followed suit.
    â€œAfter the kids change into a towel and put their dirty clothes in a bag, they will come here for a foot washing,” Sarah instructed. “Make sure to use the scrubber. Some of these kids have feet that are thick with dirt.”
    The girls nodded.
    â€œWhen their feet are clean, you can have them get in line for a shower. One of Eddie’s staff will handle the rest.”
    The shower consisted of a large metal wash tub with a curtain on a circular plastic pipe base. The shower water came from a generator-powered pump placed in a five-gallon container of warm water.
    The shower device was a simple sprayer, like one would find on a kitchen sink, controlled by a staff member who was experienced at rationing just enough water for each child.
    Bethany couldn’t help thinking that the five-minute showers they were allowed at the dorm would be a luxury here. And the long hot showers taken at home would be like going to heaven.
    â€œSee if you can sort these clothes out into piles of large, medium, and small,” Sarah said, leading Bethany to the clothing table. “When a little girl comes to the table, let her pick out clothes that she thinks will fit and take her to the changing room. She will have her old clothes in a bag so make sure she goes home with them too.”
    Bethany blinked, trying to take in all that Sarah had quickly rattled off.
    â€œAnd don’t worry. We’ll get you some help as soon as everything settles down a little. We have lots and lots of kids who need baths!”
    As soon as the crew finished loading supplies into the makeshift bathhouses, kids started moving through the process as if it were a well-oiled machine.
    Malia, who had pulled uku duty, carefully inspected the head of each girl for the small white eggs clinging to hair follicles that are the telltale sign of head lice. (She had pulled her own long hair up into a twist on top of her head…just to be safe.)
    Children who had lice were pulled out of line and taken to a table where their hair was washed with a powerful anti-lice shampoo. They were told to sit on a bench for fifteen minutes before being allowed back in line.
    Inside the bathhouse, the foot-scrubbing girls were astonished at the amount of thick grime that worked its way into the feet of the children from standing in the refuse. None had socks, they told Bethany, and their shoes had been reduced to scraps.
    Soon, the kids were coming through the line so quickly that Bethany did not have much chance to even try to talk to them. Occasionally she would ask a name, and every once in a while a small child would innocently point to the knotted sleeve of Bethany’s arm and say something in Spanish. Bethany guessed it was a question about her arm.
    Bethany would point to her missing arm and say “Tiburon” while watching the little eyes open in surprise.
    Sometimes a child would come with a message from a worker printed in black felt pen on her hand. It might read: Needs shoes, which was a signal for Bethany that this particular girl’s shoes were so bad that replacements needed to be found.
    A large box of used children’s shoes under the clothing table served as the shoe store.
    â€œWe have no socks!” Bethany called out when trying to find some to go with shoes she was giving to a little girl.
    â€œWe run out of socks quickly. People just don’t donate them much,” one of Eddie and Maggie’s staff members called back to her. Bethany felt like crying.
    â€œOkay, I guess you go sockless, young lady,” she said softly to a pretty but uncomprehending girl of around seven.
    â€œYour relief is here! Go take a break,” Jenna announced as the little girl took off out the door with her new