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The leader of the group of children stepped forward aggressively.
"Putz, you said if we helped you with that job, we'd get a share of the money. So where is it? You've owed us for days. Do you even know that?"
The troublesome boy immediately shouted back,
"Old Willie owes me money too! If that crippled old bastard never paid me, how am I supposed to pay you?"
"That's your problem."
The leader folded his arms.
"I only deal with you. Willie's business is Willie's business. Our work came from you, which means you owe us."
"Fuck!"
Putz snapped.
"You lot were too scared to go to Cannibal Street and ask Willie for work yourselves, so you begged me to act as the middleman!"
"I didn't even take a cut!"
"Now you're losing money and suddenly you want me to compensate you?"
"You're acting like I got rich off Willie and have money lying around to pay everyone!"
The children of the sewers understood one thing very well:
You couldn't squeeze blood from a stone.
If someone had nothing, no amount of pressure would magically produce money.
Which meant they hadn't really come here for the debt.
They were after something else.
The leader said,
"Fine. Then let's set the Willie issue aside."
His eyes shifted toward Skye.
"But Skye still owes us something."
The Black girl, who had only just managed to climb back to her feet after being dragged out of her shelter, immediately shouted,
"I don't owe you anything! What exactly am I supposed to repay?"
At that moment, a much younger child from the group stepped forward and pointed accusingly.
"You stole my bread."
"It was hidden in a drainage tunnel beneath West Thirty-Fourth Street."
"That bread was mine."
"It was lying on the ground with nobody around."
Skye rolled her eyes.
"I just picked it up."
"Thief!"
The younger child was furious.
"You can't just assume something belongs to nobody because nobody's standing next to it!"
"I left a mark on that bread."
"My personal mark."
"Oh, give me a break."
Skye sneered.
"Who the hell recognizes your stupid mark?"
"You little idiot."
"At this rate, you'll end up on Cannibal Street within three days and get eaten by whatever monsters live there."
"And how do you even know I took it?"
"Because I saw you!"
The younger child pointed at her.
"I yelled at you to put it down!"
"You ignored me and ran!"
"You ran off with my bread!"
---
Skye immediately adopted the swaggering attitude of a street punk.
"Oh, right. Now I remember."
"You mean when you were standing there acting like everything you saw automatically belonged to you and everyone else should get lost?"
She folded her arms.
"We don't have rules like that down here."
"Whoever's holding something owns it."
"Besides, I already ate the bread."
"It's probably a pile of crap by now."
"If you want it that badly, go check the next corner over."
"Pick whichever pile of shit looks most appealing and take it home."
"Consider the debt repaid."
The girl's taunts immediately enraged the opposing group.
A chorus of profanity erupted.
Obscene language poured from mouths far too young to know such words.
Fortunately, the group's leader managed to silence his followers.
Then he addressed Skye directly.
"There aren't any rules down here."
"The only thing that matters is numbers."
"And fists."
"Whoever has more people and bigger fists gets their way."
He shrugged.
"Skye, I don't really care about a piece of bread that got eaten days ago."
"But you bullied one of my people."
"I can't ignore that."
"So here's my offer."
"I heard you've got a treasure."
"Hand it over."
"And we'll call the debt settled."
---
Skye immediately raised both middle fingers.
"Fuck you."
"Not happening."
Standing beside her, Putz looked genuinely surprised.
A treasure?
He had no idea she possessed anything that could be called that.
Unfortunately, neither of them had time to discuss it.
The group of children had come specifically for the item that Skye occasionally bragged about in secret.
And when intimidation failed...
They rushed forward all at once.
---
Putz had already taken a brutal kick from an adult earlier that day.
The moment the larger group descended on them, he instinctively curled up and protected his stomach.
His body folded into itself like a cooked shrimp.
Skye fared no better.
In fact, more children targeted her than him.
She could do little except protect her head and vital areas as best she could.
After a while, the leader finally shouted,
"Enough!"
"Search her!"
"Find the treasure!"
Immediately, dozens of hands began fumbling through Skye's clothes.
One child suddenly yelled,
"I've seen her hide it in an inner pocket!"
Several others immediately reached inside her jacket.
The moment one hand touched a certain location, Skye's reaction became far more desperate.
She struggled violently.
"Don't take it!"
"Please don't take my treasure!"
The boy searching her paid no attention.
If anything, her reaction only confirmed he'd found the right thing.
His hand closed around the object.
"I got it!"
"I found Skye's treasure!"
---
Everyone gathered around excitedly.
At last they would discover what this mysterious treasure was.
Then they saw it.
A pink elastic hair tie.
At each end was a small plastic bead with faceted surfaces that reflected the light.
Silence.
The children who had fought so hard to obtain it were completely stunned.
Some of the younger ones didn't even recognize what it was.
One little child asked curiously,
"What is it?"
"It sparkles."
"It looks pretty."
Anyone old enough to recognize it immediately looked disappointed.
The boy who had found it suffered the greatest emotional collapse of all.
His excitement vanished instantly.
He threw the item onto the ground.
"What kind of treasure is this?"
"It's just a hair tie."
"The sort of thing nobody would bother picking up even if they saw it lying on the street."
---
The moment Putz saw the object, he finally understood.
He knew exactly what it was.
It was the gift he had given Skye when they first met.
The first time she had ever helped him.
The hair tie had originally belonged to the only foster family he had ever truly loved.
The only piece of that life he had managed to keep.
Putz had grown up in orphanages since infancy and passed through countless foster homes.
Most families took children only to collect additional government subsidies.
They weren't kind.
Most of the time, he eventually ran away.
Only the Brodys had been different.
The elderly couple had cared for him sincerely.
For a while, Putz had truly believed he would grow up there and remain until adulthood.
Then the accident happened.
The old couple died.
Even if he had wanted to stay, he couldn't.
And because he feared being blamed for the incident, he never dared return to Saint Agnes Orphanage either.
By then, he had already seen enough of the bureaucrats operating within the American welfare system.
The patience and compassion outsiders imagined simply weren't there.
Occasionally, truly caring people existed.
But they were rare.
Most social workers treated the job as exactly that—a job.
And children like him were merely numbers in a report.
The hair tie with its plastic beads was the only keepsake he had taken with him.
Later, he had used it to "bribe" the Black girl named Skye.
Putz had never imagined she would treasure it so much.
Nor had he imagined that she would take a beating over a cheap hair tie.
Yet he understood.
Unlike him, Skye had never experienced orphanages or foster homes.
She had been born in the sewers.
Raised in the sewers.
To Putz, ordinary life was merely something distant.
To Skye, it was a fairy tale that existed among the clouds.
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