just wishing for them to order themselves. He's really a nice young man. He's just a little private."
I nodded and that seemed to convince Perry because he nodded and began walking back towards the others. Since I was no longer with the other members of my class, I took off my cloak and carried it over one arm. My red tunic and black leggings were a far more comfortable choice in the summer heat.
"Alright, might as well do this," I said to no one in particular.
From the field to the town, the walk was not that long. Once in the village, I was greeted with the usual noises of the townspeople walking in and out of the large wooden shops. It seemed as if the entire street was lined with two-story buildings, each one filled with any object necessary, or unnecessary, for each individual's survival.
"Good afternoon, Luk," said a small woman with a rounded face.
"And a good one to you, Lady Chuff," I said back to her, smiling. As she passed by, I noted that she smelled an awful lot like cabbage.
Continuing my trip down the crowded street, I was greeted by more people who wanted to wish me a polite hello. When you live in a village where everyone knows everyone, it's hard to walk from one end to the other without someone wanting to stop and talk. Even the shopkeepers always seemed to be taking time off from their busy stores in order to track down a friend who was passing by in the street.
After many minutes of giving polite greetings to those I passed by, I made my way around a corner and the mask shop came into view. It was one of the older looking buildings, and it certainly needed at least a new coat of paint. There were large patches of black paint that had been stripped away to reveal a golden-hued wood. The walk that led up to its front porch was made of stones—an uncommon sight in the village—that were cracked and crumbling. Although any fears that I had about coming here had been put to rest by Perry, the building itself was doing no favors for Alexander's reputation. The only piece of the building that looked alright was a wooden sign that said "Master Marper's Masks". It looked the same as it had when I was a child.
I was suddenly struck by a memory of Alexander when we were children. Why had I not managed to ever remember it before? My immediate impression of him had been that he was a dark child, but only in the sense that he was dressed from head to toe in black. His hair was black and it covered his eyes, which were not on the lighter side of the spectrum either. I was walking through town on my way home when I was nine, and he had been standing, hunched over, outside of his father's shop, examining something on the ground.
"What are you doing?" I had asked him.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm looking for slugs," he said, smiling up at me.
"Are you finding any?" At nine, slugs were a high priority to me.
He shook his head, his hair waving about in all directions. "Nope. I could use a little luck."
"What a coincidence! My name's Luk!" I exclaimed, extending my hand to him. That phrase had been one I was proud of, using it whenever my mother said that she needed some luck.
His mouth dropped open and he shook my hand, wiping dirt on it in the process. "No way."
We talked for several minutes while we examined the dirt for movement before the door to the shop opened and a man appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man, with a crooked nose and a pale face that had a frown plastered on it. It scared me to see him there and I backed away from the building a bit.
"Alexander, what do you think you're doing?" The man asked. His voice was thin, but his tone sounded cold enough to freeze all of the water in the ground.
"I was just talking to Luk, father." Alexander motioned to me, but he didn't look in my direction.
"And what have I told you about talking to other boys?"
"I just thought that it would be alright. He seemed nice."
"They always seem nice at first, Alexander. We've been over this. More
I nodded and that seemed to convince Perry because he nodded and began walking back towards the others. Since I was no longer with the other members of my class, I took off my cloak and carried it over one arm. My red tunic and black leggings were a far more comfortable choice in the summer heat.
"Alright, might as well do this," I said to no one in particular.
From the field to the town, the walk was not that long. Once in the village, I was greeted with the usual noises of the townspeople walking in and out of the large wooden shops. It seemed as if the entire street was lined with two-story buildings, each one filled with any object necessary, or unnecessary, for each individual's survival.
"Good afternoon, Luk," said a small woman with a rounded face.
"And a good one to you, Lady Chuff," I said back to her, smiling. As she passed by, I noted that she smelled an awful lot like cabbage.
Continuing my trip down the crowded street, I was greeted by more people who wanted to wish me a polite hello. When you live in a village where everyone knows everyone, it's hard to walk from one end to the other without someone wanting to stop and talk. Even the shopkeepers always seemed to be taking time off from their busy stores in order to track down a friend who was passing by in the street.
After many minutes of giving polite greetings to those I passed by, I made my way around a corner and the mask shop came into view. It was one of the older looking buildings, and it certainly needed at least a new coat of paint. There were large patches of black paint that had been stripped away to reveal a golden-hued wood. The walk that led up to its front porch was made of stones—an uncommon sight in the village—that were cracked and crumbling. Although any fears that I had about coming here had been put to rest by Perry, the building itself was doing no favors for Alexander's reputation. The only piece of the building that looked alright was a wooden sign that said "Master Marper's Masks". It looked the same as it had when I was a child.
I was suddenly struck by a memory of Alexander when we were children. Why had I not managed to ever remember it before? My immediate impression of him had been that he was a dark child, but only in the sense that he was dressed from head to toe in black. His hair was black and it covered his eyes, which were not on the lighter side of the spectrum either. I was walking through town on my way home when I was nine, and he had been standing, hunched over, outside of his father's shop, examining something on the ground.
"What are you doing?" I had asked him.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm looking for slugs," he said, smiling up at me.
"Are you finding any?" At nine, slugs were a high priority to me.
He shook his head, his hair waving about in all directions. "Nope. I could use a little luck."
"What a coincidence! My name's Luk!" I exclaimed, extending my hand to him. That phrase had been one I was proud of, using it whenever my mother said that she needed some luck.
His mouth dropped open and he shook my hand, wiping dirt on it in the process. "No way."
We talked for several minutes while we examined the dirt for movement before the door to the shop opened and a man appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man, with a crooked nose and a pale face that had a frown plastered on it. It scared me to see him there and I backed away from the building a bit.
"Alexander, what do you think you're doing?" The man asked. His voice was thin, but his tone sounded cold enough to freeze all of the water in the ground.
"I was just talking to Luk, father." Alexander motioned to me, but he didn't look in my direction.
"And what have I told you about talking to other boys?"
"I just thought that it would be alright. He seemed nice."
"They always seem nice at first, Alexander. We've been over this. More
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