Matthew and the Chimney Sweeps: Book One (Completed, Editing)

Chapter Eight: The Auctioneer

 All the windows of the Harrower were open but to very little effect. The fan Slink had made, and which was powered by potatoes, hadn't helped either. The place was an oven. That's why all the children had decided to go to the beach to rest.

It had been a hard day for all of them. Despite the oppressive heat that had invaded Spring Heights, chores and jobs still had to be done. The cabin was cleaned, food was bought, fish were fished, the vegetable garden was weeded and a chimney across the city was swept. Matthew and Slink had tried searching for Mrs Grey but stopped after spying only seven addresses due to the heat. They spent the rest of the day rebuilding Cratey at the garage.

'Has anyone heard from Aldo and Jeff?' Jennifer asked. She was sitting on a beach chair, fanning herself with a newspaper.

Splashing his feet in the water, Ramon answered, 'I have. They're doing much better.'

The money Aldo and Jeff owed the Mongraw Gang was a substantial amount. With Miss Thorn's cash, however, it was easily taken care of.

'I'm glad to hear.'

Slink suddenly burst out, jumping up from his seat in the sand, 'Oh, I completely forgot. It's auction night tonight.'

Everyone, except for Matthew, all mumbled they had forgotten too. Again, Matthew had no idea what was going on.

'We should go,' Slink continued. There were a lot of groans. 'Oh, come on. I know you're all tired and it's hot but we have to.'

'We can get crates anywhere,' yawned John. He was lying down, his eyes closed.

'Yes, but Trevor always has the best ones in the Free Territory and they're usually always in good condition, meaning I don't have to repair them that much,' Slink replied.

'I'll come with you,' said Matthew. 'But first, you have to tell me what you're talking about.'

Slink replied in a grateful tone. 'Auction night is held once a week at the rail yard and it's run by a boy named Trevor . . . he's the auctioneer. First, there's an auction. Trevor auctions off his and other children's things. Then, after he's finished, the place turns into a market, where children trade with one another.'

Looking at Matthew, Chloe said, raising her eyebrows, 'It can get pretty rowdy. Thankfully, the Mongraw Gang or the Westies don't know about it.'

'What kind of things are auctioned, traded?' Matthew asked.

'Crates for one, which we need, so we can start building racing carts,' answered Slink, 'but anything really . . . food, clothes, shelter.'

'Shelter more than anything else,' said John. 'Living on the streets of a city, shelter is essential. Take a quality tarp for example. If you brought one to market, you could trade for anything you wanted.'

'I may have to bring our tarp,' said Slink, 'if we want crates.'

'Hey,' said Ramon, 'you two better hurry up if you want make the start of it.'

'We have plenty of time,' said Slink. 'We have an hour.'

'No, it starts in half an hour,' replied Ramon.

Slink hit his head. 'That's right. I forgot Trevor said it would start half an hour earlier this week. I think the heat's getting to me. I don't usually forget things like this.'

Slink and Matthew rowed over to the Harrower and gathered up items they were willing to trade. Along with a green tarp, they collected two pairs of shoes too small for anyone to wear, four wheels, a push toy in the shape of a horse that had washed up on the shore ('Someone could use it for something'), a small coffee table with only two legs, and fish bones.