Crunch by Rick Bundschuh Page A

shoes.
    Bethany went over the routine with Jenna and then stepped outside for a breath of fresh air— as fresh as it could be at a dump , she thought.
    Just past the bathhouse, several girls from her group had set up an impromptu beauty salon and were busy painting the nails of giggling, happy little girls and combing out their thick black hair, which they decorated with ribbon and clips.
    The roar of the trash trucks in the distance mixed with the squawking seagulls and the laughter and babbling of children. These sounds enveloped Bethany as she walked along, and she found herself smiling. She had done a lot of things in her fifteen years. Many of them seemed thrilling or important, but as she breathed in the tainted air and surveyed the makeshift bathhouse and the damp, happy children, she thought that just maybe what she had been a part of today was far more important then anything she had ever accomplished.
    It felt right and good. And for the little child that no longer slept in filthy clothes, ate with blackened hands, or itched from ukus, she knew it made a difference—a real difference.
    She just wished—
    â€œWanna see the ‘town’ Bethany?” Eddie asked, startling her from her thoughts.
    Bethany bit her lip and looked behind her at the beehive of activity at the bathhouse.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Eddie said with a smile. “There are plenty of workers today! A lot of the time we give baths with just our own workers. Come on, I’ll show you around. Sarah said she wanted to come too.”
    Eddie signaled Sarah, and she joined the pair as they walked over the hard-packed road imbedded with trash.
    Crowded together on the edge of the landfill were dozens of small shacks. Some had tin roofs; some had a mixture of tar paper and blue tarp.
    A modest amount of electricity had been illicitly rigged from a nearby power line by a dangerous but ingenious system of extension cords.
    â€œThese people make their living by digging through the trash for aluminum cans, bottles, or anything they can sell,” Eddie explained as they walked. “They follow the dump around. When this one fills up, they will all move to the new dump site.”
    â€œWhy do the children work? Shouldn’t they be in school?”
    â€œWell, they should be in school, but it’s complicated here. Going to school in Mexico involves some expenses, and these people can’t afford much. In addition, the children are needed to help with the scavenging. Going to school would mean not enough money coming in to survive. It’s a tough, cruel world here.”
    Eyes followed the trio as they slowly walked through the maze of shanties. Many times Eddie, who was loved and known in this slum, stopped to talk to someone along the way. Each time he stopped, Bethany had the strangest feeling someone was watching her.
    â€œIt seems news travels fast, Bethany. I’ve had to tell the short version of the shark attack three or four times now,” Eddie laughed.
    A small boy of about five darted between two homes and into their path, kicking the sad ragged remains of a soccer ball.
    Bethany, who had played soccer seriously as a young girl, immediately jumped into action, deftly stealing the ball away from the little boy.
    The boy laughed delightedly as he went after his ball. And it wasn’t until he turned around that Bethany realized who he was.
    â€œEduardo!” she said happily, and he smiled and kicked the ball around her with the precision of a surgeon.
    Bethany’s soccer skills were somewhat rusty, and she did all she could to get and keep control of the ball. But every time she came in contact with the ball, the little scrapper joyously attacked as if he were in a national tournament.
    Eddie watched the pair laughing and sparing along the dusty trash-strewn road.
    â€œThis kid is pretty good!” Bethany exclaimed with a shout to Eddie and Sarah.
    Finally Eduardo stole the ball from