Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER ONE: The (Very Secret) Job Hunt

When I snuck out of my room at dawn on Sunday morning, I had no idea my life was about to change. I hadn't one inkling that within a few weeks' time, I'd be carrying a magic wand and spying on goblins. All I knew, as I tiptoed into the hall, was to be careful not to step on the creakier floorboards. Of course, my pants snagged on the stairway railing and I almost plummeted headfirst down two flights of stairs.

"Is that you, Noelle?" asked a drowsy voice from the other room. "Where are you going at this hour?"

"Fishing with Geoff, Dad," I lied. "I'll be back for breakfast."

"Okay. Bring me flounder."

I heard him roll over like a beached whale, while my mother made a snuffling sound and began to snore. There they were, one of the most famous couples in the kingdom of Indigo, in the land of Finale: a pumpkin farmer with a royal clientele and the most celebrated shoemaker in five thousand leagues. I was the only person who ever saw the undignified side of Humphrey and Elizabeth Simpkins.

If anyone knew why I was creeping out of the house, they'd probably send me right to Mount Seasprite Hospital. Most people would kiss the troll beneath the town bridge before quitting a job like mine. Tending to pumpkins commissioned by kings and making shoes for the land's most fashionable ladies was a summer gig some could only dream of.

I, however, was sneaking out in search of another job.

The guilt hit me the moment I stepped off the porch.

"It's okay," I muttered. "I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just going to the library."

If I just happened to see the bulletin board, and just happened to spot a job opening . . . well, I couldn't help that, could I?

I imagined explaining that to Mom and saw her throwing a fit as clearly as I saw the path before me. But chickening out would mean yet another summer of toiling in the soil or hammering at another shoe I'd never see again. It gave me the feeling of being locked in a windowless room, the idea of being stuck on our farmland for life.

It was this feeling that kept me moving toward the main road.

My best friend, Geoff Oakdale, was waiting for me on his dad's cart, which had been hitched to a fat donkey and filled to the brim with vegetables. "Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I tripped on the stairs and Dad woke up," I said grumpily, climbing up beside him.

He sighed. "Sixteen years of being friends and you still haven't learned anything from me. You don't go down the stairs when you're sneaking out, you climb out the window!"

"My bedroom's on the third floor!"

"What do you think they made drainpipes for?" He clucked to the donkey. "Fat Chester, quit stuffing your face! We've got a million deliveries today."

The animal began moving at a snail's pace just as the sun peeked over the hills, promising another stiflingly hot day. I thought of the miles of pumpkins I'd have to help Dad tend later that afternoon and sank down lower in my seat.

Geoff glanced at me. "Stop looking so cheerful."

"Sorry. I'm just nervous. What if I don't find anything?"

"Well, then, it'll be nothing but pumps and pumpkins for the rest of your life."

I crossed my arms. "Cute."

He punched me in the shoulder. "Would you quit worrying? If you don't find anything today, come back later. That's what I had to do before I got into knight school." He said it casually, but I knew he'd been dying to bring it up again.