The Wasting

1-Izzy

Izzy hurried home.

She ran as fast as the footwear from the dumpster could carry her. What a find! Vintage baby blue Nikes in a size five---with laces and everything! Usually the Rat People picked over the dumpsters before sunup, but by some miracle they had missed the running shoes in her favorite color. Perhaps the failing stuttering streetlights had hid them from the usually efficient scavengers of the night. Normally she would avoid garbage at all cost but something compelled her to search the unthinkable and there they were, lying on top of the trash as a gift.

If only her sister could walk, she would gladly give up the shoes. Being identical twins they were exactly the same size. They were exactly the same everything, except weight. In the good old days, they would play one of their favorite games "Pick the twin." If they picked Izzy, Bell would answer and visa versa. The little charade worked with almost everyone except Grandfather Alfred. Now, no more games. It was as easy to pick the imposture, as one would choose between a bright red balloon and a dry leaf.

Recently Bell's weight had dropped until she more resembled the reedy, bleak prisoners of war than a robust mirror image of herself. She had wasted away to skin and bones ever since she came down with a mysterious illness baffling the doctors. The physicians were more curious than compassionate. To them she was just a new type of bug revealed beneath an overturned stone. The doctors saw their own fate reflected in the faces of the dying every day, diseases without cures, diseases with cures but no medication. Stress and fatigue slowly wore them down until finally their patients joined the long assembly line of hospital beds. They chugged in the front door of the emergency room and out the back door of the morgue.

Unfortunately they had seen a lot of this dreaded disease lately and simply called it "The Wasting." It sounded so appropriate to Izzy, wasting away the weight, the health and the childhood Bell should be sharing with her. Izzy's anger rose and surprised even herself. Unfair! Unfair! Unfair! It was just all so unfair. It shouldn't be called The Wasting but rather THE CHEATING. She took several deep breaths and found her temper fading away into a tired resignation. Remembering the doctor's final words, 'There's nothing more we can do,' caused her temper to flare once again.

As the sun began to set Izzy ran faster, leaping over useless debris, and thought of how she and Bell used to race home after school every day.

"Come on! Think of it as a science experiment," Izzy coaxed Bell while stretching her calf muscles. "We're the same physically, so we should reach home at exactly the same time."

"Nonsense!" Bell retorted while leaning against a rusty sign post to stretch her hamstring. "The one with more determination will naturally win."

"Shouldn't our determination be equally matched?" Izzy asked while bending over to touch her toes.

"No. Just because we look the same doesn't mean we'll run the same. You're a faster runner and I'm a much better student!" Without warning Bell took off running. The contest had begun.

Izzy looked up to see her sister had left her in the dust. Once again, Bell easily took the lead and beat Izzy home. "Humph!" she thought. Maybe Bell is the better student after all."

Flying effortlessly past the decaying cityscape Izzy tucked her chin to her chest and pumped her arms faster to gain momentum. Every fading afternoon she crossed paths with a family cooking blackened mystery rodent on a wire hanger over a large flaming tin can. Today it was no different. She could see the pitiful nucleus family in the distance and wanted them to be nothing more than a blur. No longer could she bear to look at their grimy hopeless faces; no longer would she contemplate slowing down to see if there was anything she could do. There wasn't. Their eyes were as empty as the rusted burned out bus they called home. Izzy longed for an actual school bus and remembered what her grandfather had told her about them.