Journey of a Girl

Polite Society: Chapter Eight

A chorus of excited voices greeted Credence outside the building.

With the Headmaster's hand firmly around hers and pulling to guide, Credence was swept into a sea of bodies squished shoulder-to-shoulder against each other. Some of them glanced her way, but most barely took notice, their attention held elsewhere.

Night had fallen but there was no fear in the towns. No one ran for the safety of their homes. They didn't need to, as hundreds of torches lit the streets, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow that left no corner in shadow. A celebration was taking place, a great festival with colorful banners decorating every last building, and musicians playing different songs simultaneously, creating a wall of sound that jarred the ears.

All of it surrounding the wooden stage.

The Auction, Credence realized.

She had thought to be spared from watching it, and her stomach twisted when the Headmaster took his place in the audience, pulling her close and keeping a firm grip on her shoulder. Noting Credence's fearful look, he bent down to her ear, and she could barely hear his voice above the noise.

"Need a domestic or two for the school," he explained. "I'll find them here. Is this your first time seeing the Auction?" Credence nodded, which seemed to please the Headmaster. "Oh my, what a treat."

A woman was swimming through the crowd with her fist raised high in the air, clutching a ball of dough. She was yelling, though Credence could not make out her words, and every so often she stopped to exchange a piece of food for coins. The Headmaster waved his hand to catch the woman's attention and she pushed past several shoulders to get close, then offered a steaming bun to the Headmaster. He answered with silver and the woman moved on to the next pair of hands waving for her.

"Something tasty," the Headmaster said and handed the food to Credence, "for your first Auction."

Credence was hesitant to eat the strange offering, but when the smell of fresh bread hit her nostrils it was more than she could argue against, and she dove into her treat with vigor. Inside the bun was a paste sweeter than anything she'd ever eaten before, and the dough around it was soft as a rabbit's fur.

She tried to chew as slowly as possible, wanting to savor the flavors and textures. Perhaps the towns wasn't as terrible as she'd been told—though it was far dirtier than she'd imagined.

The faces surrounding her were well-leathered by the sun, and the wrinkles of their smiles and foreheads were enhanced with dirt and grease and sweat. Like the Headmaster, several people wore pale wigs, though very few were as pristine as his. Most were matted tangles, dusty and old, releasing small puffs of white smoke when they were jostled or moved too quickly.

A special handful of people had caked their skin with paint, whitening their faces and smearing their lips with deep reds, and dotting their cheeks with tiny black shapes. They seemed to be of a higher class than their peers, like the Headmaster and Mistress Cinder, and they had a glint of disdain in their eyes when they looked at everyone else.

The smell, which was already intrusive during the initial cart ride in, was amplified in its offensiveness, and inescapable given the density of the crowd.

Credence wondered if everyone else could smell it too, and if they had simply decided not to care. Just as awful as the smell was the noise, much worse than it had been when she arrived, and with such a stifling abundance that Credence feared she might be choked by it. She wished for a square of fabric like the one the Headmaster carried, though she wasn't sure where she would stuff it first, inside her nostrils or ears.

Commotion erupted behind her, as the line of brightly dressed red stripes were led from the building Credence had just come from, and people moved aside to stare and taunt them. Miss Scrubbs led the line, playfully swatting at reaching hands and cracking crude jokes to the onlookers, while the two girls in brown dresses used paddles to keep people from getting too close. It must have been a frightening walk, Credence thought, for she could see the red stripes' clothing being pulled on by the brazen reach of several strangers, who once or twice managed a pinch on the youths' exposed skin, and made the young men and women in line blush.