Freedom's Price Read Free Page B

rope around your waist and tie the other end to my ankle,” Ma threatened.
    Lizzie cowered away from Ma, clinging to Eliza’s leg.
    â€œYou wouldn’t really do that, would you, Ma?” Eliza asked.
    â€œIf Lizzie can’t stay away from the river, I’ll have to.”
    Lizzie began to cry, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Ma and Eliza exchanged frustrated looks—neither of them could resist Lizzie when she cried.
    Ma knelt down and gave Lizzie a quick hug. “Stop crying and help your sister with that heavy bucket.”
    Eliza’s head snapped toward the abandoned bucket. “C’mon, Lizzie.” Eliza let Lizzie tug on one side of the bucket while Eliza did the heavy lifting. As they made their way back from the river’s edge to Ma’s fire, Eliza slowed down her long stride to match Lizzie’s tiny steps.
    When Ma turned away from the fire to fetch more wood, a rapid movement caught Eliza’s attention. The boy had darted toward Ma’s pot, as though he had been waiting for the chance. He grabbed one of the shirts straight from the boilingwater, even though it must have scalded his hands. Before Ma even knew what had happened, the boy was running away, toward Eliza and Lizzie.
    â€œStop, thief!” Eliza screamed, moving to block his way. “Give that back!”
    Ma spun around.
    The boy hesitated only a scant second, trapped between Eliza and her ma. Then he took off inland toward the maze of ramshackle huts of the shantytown. Eliza dropped her bucket, ignoring the fat sloshing over the rim, and raced after him.
    â€œMa, get Lizzie!” she called.
    â€œEliza, come back. Come back right now!” Ma shouted.
    She ignored her mother’s calls and chased the boy even faster. Ma couldn’t afford to replace that shirt. And if they lost their customers, how would the family survive? The thief wasn’t burdened with heavy boots, and his trousers didn’t catch on the brush like her dress did. The big shirt spread out behind him like a kite catching the wind; Eliza hoped it would slow him down.
    They were deep in the shantytown. Eliza wasn’t allowed to come here, but she knew what it was. The houses were flimsy, made of materials washed up by the river. But what the river gave, it also took away. These settlements flooded all the time, and the poor people who tried to live here lost everything over and over again. Ma called the shanties dens for thieves. But Eliza had seen her share of criminals, and she wasn’t afraid. Not too afraid.
    Her legs were longer than the boy’s, and she was gainingon him. But she was running out of time and distance; he knew the area and she didn’t. She’d lose him for sure if she didn’t act fast. Her breath rasping, heart pounding, she forced her feet to move just that much quicker. In a final burst of speed, she extended her arm and grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt. With the strength she had earned by hauling laundry day in and day out, Eliza pulled him so hard he fell. The shirt flopped to the ground.
    â€œGotcha!” In an instant, Eliza straddled him, her palm flat on his chest to keep him down.
    â€œOh!” She pulled her hand away from his shirt as though it were scalding hot. “You’re no boy!” Besides the beginnings of breasts under the thief’s shirt, Eliza now saw that her features were softer and rounder than most boys’.
    â€œSo?” the girl snarled.
    â€œYou’re right,” Eliza agreed. “Boy or girl, how dare you steal from my ma!”
    Eliza’s hand was still raised, and the thief’s eyes were fixed on it, her body stiff as though braced for a blow. The girl’s ebony skin was marked with pox scars, and her lip showed a recent bruise. Slowly, Eliza lowered her hand.
    â€œI won’t hurt you,” Eliza assured her. She grabbed the wet shirt, no longer steaming hot, and climbed to her feet. “But