Summer Island - A Prince in Peril

8 - The Market

They left before the sun rose. Mario drove with Greta, Dinora and Seymour in the cab. Zoë and Daniel squeezed in between baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables in the back. It was a twenty-minute drive into town and they had just started setting up their stall when the sun peeked over the eastern islands in a blaze of orange and violet.

After the children had unpacked the food, Daniel and Dinora offered to take the first shift, leaving the others with a few hours to fill.

"Do you want to go down to the beach?" Seymour asked the remaining four.

"Or we could check out the rest of the market," Mario suggested.

"Does the town have a library?" Greta asked hopefully.

"Yeah, but whatever we do, let's get the shopping done first," Zoë reminded them. "Tia is very picky about her food and the best stuff is always the first to go."

They grabbed canvas bags and split up to cover the substantial grocery list.

Greta looked at the things she and Zoë needed to find and began reading them off one by one. "Honey, preferably wildflower, large jar; Serrano peppers, 200 grams; Casper eggplants, six medium; Gruyère cheese from Marcia's stand, 300 grams; bacon, one kilo-"

"Let's order the meat first and have the butcher set it aside for us. Then we can pick it up before we head back. Tia would not be too happy about bringing meat that had been left to sit in a hot truck all day," Zoë said, leading Greta through the town square to a small shop on the opposite end.

As they were leaving the butcher, Zoë noticed a group of boys watching them from the wharf. When they began to approach, she guided Greta into the closest store. "Let's check this place out, okay?" she said tightly.

"Oh...sure." Greta wondered what might possibly interest Zoë in this small tourist shop. It was filled with knickknacks, tee shirts, postcards and other items which didn't exactly coincide with Zoë's persona. They wandered around the store for a few minutes.

"Can I help you girls?" said a thin lady standing behind a cash register.

"No, thank you," Zoë said. "We're just looking."

"Well maybe if you tell me what it is, I can help you find it," she said snidely.

"Like I said, we're just looking."

Just then the bells over the door jingled and in came the four boys. Zoë had a bad feeling about this.

"C'mon, Greta," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible, "let's go back to the stall and see if they need help."

It looked to Zoë that Greta hadn't become suspicious of the boys, although she did seem confused by Zoë's behavior.

"Hi there."

Zoë's gut lurched. She turned. It was the largest of the boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with close-spaced eyes and a crew cut.

"Let's go." Zoë grabbed Greta and tried to slip past the boy.

"What? You're not even going to say 'hello'? That's not very friendly, is it guys?" he asked the other boys, who all shook their heads in uniform accordance.

Zoë had managed to get herself and Greta past the first boy but now the other three were blocking her way. The first one turned to seal the other end of the aisle. They were trapped.

"I thought a pretty girl like you would have better manners. Isn't that what you Orientals are supposed to be-real polite and all?" Greta felt Zoë's hand tense on her shoulder at the word "Oriental" and she started to get nervous. This was not right. Why wasn't the saleslady doing anything? Was she still there? She had to be able to hear what was going on. Greta tried to peer between the three boys to see the counter but they were too big. Quickly, Zoë shoved hard against them, trying to protect Greta as much as she could. They were through in a second and out the door in another.