Forgotten

Chapter 8

I REACH INTO THE CUPBOARD FOR THE oats for breakfast, and frown when I pull out the last, half-empty bag of grain. "Looks like we need to go to the marketplace again," I say, emptying the remains of the bag into a pot of boiling water. Then, without knowing why, I continue, "Okay if I go?"

"You went last time," Liana says, looking surprised.

"Yeah, but I can go again."

Liana shrugs and lifts a mug of hot coffee to her lips. "Sure, okay."

After Hayley downs her oatmeal, I see her off to the bus stop. It's been a week since the letter, but we've heard nothing more from Mrs. Sandridge, and Hayley's school status seems to be improving. She's learned how to act in front of the teachers and other students, and Liana and I were pleased to hear that she's even started to make friends.

Once Hayley's bus pulls away, I pull on a pair of boots, grab a satchel with my ID and some money in it, and head out towards the storage house. When I get there, I hurriedly stuff as many milk bottles and egg cartons into the cart as I can manage and start the long walk to the town square, pulling the heavy load behind me. I make a mental note to talk to Liana about investing in a mule.

The marketplace is as crowded as always, so it's not hard to find buyers for the milk and eggs. After I collect my rations, I check the clock at the front of the capitol building. It's only 9:30; I've got some time. Looking around, I decide to look for a birthday present for Liana. Her eighteenth isn't for a month yet, but this might be one of the last times I'll come to the marketplace alone before her Cleansing. Besides, we're allowed to take one personal item to the other side, where it will be placed in our new home. Maybe if I buy her a good present, she'll want to take it as her personal item.

Unfortunately, her leaving means I can't buy her anything practical, like new boots or gloves or a scarf. I reluctantly head over to the antiques stand. The same boy, the one named Rowan, is running it. I peruse the goods at the front table, trying to ignore him.

"Back again?" I look up and see his tousled brown hair framing a wildly grinning face.

"Um, actually, I wanted to buy that locket I was looking at last time, Mr. Esmond," I say, deciding that using his last name is probably safest.

He whistles. "So formal." He heads to the back and begins to dig through the piles of jewelry and other trinkets he has back there. When he returns, he's twirling the same silver locket I saw last week around his right index finger.

"How much?" I ask, opening my satchel.          

He laughs. "This one's a real treasure, so...my lowest is fourteen gold."

My jaw drops, and I hastily clamp my mouth shut again. "Fourteen?" I demand in disbelief. "Do you know how many pairs of shoes I could get for that?"

"Depends on who you buy from."

"No." I snap the satchel shut.

"Fine, then." He takes a step back, as if intending to put the locket away again, then stops and considers. "All right. You can have it for seven."

Smiling, I reach up for the locket dangling from his hand, but he snatches it up a few inches higher. "Seven gold," he drawls, "and your name, princess."

I smirk. "It must be pretty important to you if you're willing to lower your price by half."

"My priorities are none of your business."