By the time she was done, her hands had as much in the way of bandages as there was exposed skin. She flexed her fingers to make sure she could still move them, adjusted two bandages, and then returned to the kitchen.
“Progress?”
“Nearly done. It hasn’t cooked very long, and I’m worried it’ll just taste like boiled vegetables in water, but you said people were hungry. How do you want to get the soup out there?”
Just let it trickle off the roof and let gravity do the rest.
“There’s three spots where people are sleeping tonight. Let’s mobilize the kids and get some food out to everyone.”
“The kids?”
“Everyone needs to contribute. Maybe if they see seven-year-olds doing their part, the O’Daly clan will get the message.”
…I suppose.
“Sierra,” Charlotte made a pained expression as she spoke, “They’ve been through a lot.”
That’s true. So has everyone here, but the kids need special care.
“They’re using our sleeping space, they’re eating our food supplies. We can’t hold their hands and baby them. Everyone’s having a hard time these days.”
If there’s anyone who should be babied, it’s the kids.
Also, the contrast between this and Sierra’s attitude towards Bryce is not lost on me.
“That’s cold.”
It is. Skitter may not have made an effort to change you, Sierra, but I think the whole situation has done it anyway. Made you colder, harder.
“Maybe, but I’ve been working from sunrise to well after dark, here, and they were just sitting around, getting in the way, complaining and crying.”
“Most of their family died just a few days ago.”
I’m with Charlotte here. Sierra talks like someone who barely knows what a child is.
Sierra didn’t have a response to that. They were still eating far too much and taking up too much room for people who hadn’t lifted a finger to help. “Anyways, think I can use the kids?”
“Don’t push them. Some are pretty emotionally sensitive. But yeah.”
Use the ones who want to help.
Sierra turned around, “Hey, munchkins! Got a job for you. Help out and we’ll give you first dibs on the after-dinner treats!”
This is good, though: Promising a reward rather than a punishment.
Roughly half of the little ones approached her. Six to ten years old, boys and girls, a variety of ethnicities.
“Who’s the oldest? Raise your hand if you’re ten… okay, if you’re nine? Eight?”
It’s like a switch was flipped when she turned around.
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