Be Brave

Warport

The rest of the day went by in a blur. 

Every now and then, a pirate would glace at her wickedly, no doubt still thinking about her public 'display' earlier, a few letting out low whistles as she walked by, all of which were easy to ignore. 

She was on her way back to her room, having to go back down stairs and past the galley when a hand grabbed her and pulled her aside. 

A huge bag of raw carrots was shoved into her arms, a young boy at least a foot shorter than her, a cabin boy no doubt, instructed her to peel, wash and then boil the carrots for dinner. 

What? 

Amara honestly hadn't expected to do any chores while on her father's ship, a big mistake she should've known.

The kid spoke up, "on this ship, you have to work to eat. Do your fair share and you'll get food." 

With that said, he was gone, leaving her standing alone with a sack of carrots, unsure of what to do. She walked closer to the other men in the kitchen prepping for dinner, two of them doing their own work without a word, sitting on top of upturned buckets. One was peeling potatoes, the skins falling into an empty container, and the other had a huge pot sitting right in front him which he was cutting onions and other vegetables by hand and letting them fall in the pot directly. 

She trudged closer, carrots in hand, unsure of what she should be doing. 

He told me to peel and wash? How? With what? 

At Kylie's it had been different. Yes, she helped make the meals everyday but there had been a proper order in the kitchen, everything has a place where it belonged, and Amara knew the system there. In this place, there was a giant metal tub on the ground with a faucet protruding from the wall above it and a pump poking up from the floor beside it. The tub, Amara noticed, had a drainer at the bottom and a little built in shelf that held rags and bars of soap; the sink? 

Amara dreaded thinking about eating with any utensils or plates that were washed in this thing. You'd think with all the nice furniture this place had, they'd be able to have a better-looking kitchen. It looked too dark and dingy in here to properly cook and she almost felt like it should've reeked of rot and rust.

There were cabinets lining one wall, with a huge gas stove and oven on the other, the sheer mass of it was needed for this size crew. An ice box was pushed up against the side of the built-in bar area. 

She dropped the carrots on a counter next to the stove and started opening drawers left and right, finding anything that might resemble a peeler. 

The man chopping at the pot grumbled. "What'er doin lookin' fer?"

Amara fumbled with the carrots in frustration, trying to keep her mouth shut. 

Doesn't anyone know how to form real sentences around here? 

"Um, I'm looking for a peeler? So I can peel these carrots? Or something..."

"Ain't got one."

"So then, what?"

"Knife." 

Amara looked at him confused. 

Huh? 

When she didn't move, the man was forced to reiterate, unsuccessfully. "Getcherself a damn knife and peel 'em dat way."

"But what if I cut myself?" Instantly, Amara felt unbelievably stupid for asking that out loud. Both men actually had to stop working and put their blades down just so they could uproariously laugh at her.