You can read the previous novel, Nobody Knows Me (which this is a prequel to), here!
“You can’t go out today, Heather. Not with what’s going on in this neighborhood.” Asp’s mother Lily frowned as she stirred a pot of stew.
“Dreadful stuff,” said her father, a gentle man with half-moon glasses.
Heather did not argue. The memory of what had happened to Nicole had made the outside world seem too frightening to face. But as Heather looked down into the stew pot and saw that it was a thin, soupy mess of vegetables that didn’t smell very seasoned, she knew that staying inside would mean going to bed hungry. This would be the fourth day in a row since she was allowed outside, and she was starting to feel weak. She would need to get out and steal or beg something if she didn’t want to be kept up by the hunger.
“Can I just go out for a minute?” asked Heather. “Just real quick?”
Lily stopped stirring and turned to face Heather. Her face was sour. “Why do you want to break my heart?” she asked, her voice grave. “Why do you want to throw your life away? Don’t you see what’s happening?”
“Terrible,” said her father absently.
“But Mom,” said Heather, pleading, “I’ll be careful. I’ll be so careful, I promise.”
“Absolutely not,” said Lily. “You listen to me, Heather: this is for your own good.”
Your own good. Heather frowned. She always says “for your own good” when she has nothing else to say.
“Dad,” she tried, “please can I go to the marketplace for five minutes? Just five?”
“Listen to your mother,” he replied without looking at her. Heather was unsure if he had actually heard her.
“Hmph,” pouted Heather. She sank to the floor, her pale blue skirt settling around her.
“Don’t pout,” said Lily sternly. “It’s for your own good,” she said again.
Heather flopped backwards, letting her legs splay out under her. She stared at the shabby ceiling. She breathed deeply. It’s like being in prison, she thought. When I grow up, I’m never gonna end up like this again.
There was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it!” shouted Heather, running to the door. She swung it open to reveal a guard, a tall man with a narrow face with his hand on a wicked-looking club.
“Evening, miss,” he said easily. “Are your folks home?”
“Mom, Dad!” cried Heather. “There’s a guard here for you.”
“Invite him in!” yelled Lily.
Heather held the door and stepped aside to allow the guard in. Once he had stepped past her, she looked down the hallway toward her parents and took a deep breath. Silently, she ran out the door and towards the marketplace.
The shouts began only once Heather had stolen down the road and taken a sharp corner. Heather had learned to take unnecessary detours when running away to make it harder to be found, and she put every ounce of effort she had into putting distance between her and her house. By the time her parents and the guard were outside, Heather was already gone.
Heather stepped into the marketplace from the opposite end, keeping the marketplace proper between her and her neighborhood. The familiar sights and sounds returned to her, along with plenty of new ones. She inspected exotic fabrics and practical tools as she walked, asserting a kind of confidence that told those around her that she belonged there (and not at home, where her parents wanted her). Before too long, she arrived where she had been heading the whole time: the street food section.
Heather’s stomach growled loudly enough to be heard by passing customers, who looked piteously at her. The smells of dozens of delicious foods were overwhelming. She found herself standing before a vendor selling a cornbread with pickled vegetables baked inside. Her mouth watered, and she closed her eyes for a moment to try to think straight. It was hard, though; her guts were churning, and she felt weakness in her legs. The vendor finished a sale and looked at Heather, curiously at first and then sadly.
“Um . . . hi?” she managed once she realized the vendor, an old dwarven woman in a crimson shawl, was waiting for her to speak.
The old woman laughed. “”Hi, little one. Are you okay? Where are your parents?”
Heather tried not to frown. She had grown tired of begging–it made her feel desperate and vulnerable, and she didn’t like the feeling at all. Explaining that her parents were well and truly furious over her running from home would result in being taken home and punished, all while remaining hungry.
Heather looked down at the ground. I wish I could just tell her I’m supposed to be here. I wish I could say some magic words that would make her give me some food and let me go. I wish–I wish I weren’t so helpless. A tear began to form in Heather’s eye, and she braced herself. I wish I could say the right thing to not get into a worse situation.
“Hun?” asked the vendor. “You okay?”
Heather went rigid. Actually, maybe I can say the right thing. She put on her most convincing smile.
“Sorry, ma’am. I was just thinking about my friend. She’s not alive anymore.” The old woman winced. Heather noticed that she did feel genuinely moved by what she was saying. “But I’m supposed to bring home something for dinner, and I really like the way your bread smells. Can I buy some?”
The old woman smiled painfully. “I’m sorry about your friend, little one.” She placed a heavy hand on Heather’s shoulder. “How much do you need?” she asked.
“Just a square,” said Heather, pointing to a small chunk of the cornbread.
“That won’t be enough for your family,” said the vendor.
“We’re little,” said Heather matter-of-factly. “It’ll be enough.”
The vendor looked Heather over. She made a face that Heather struggled to identify–pity? Disgust? Suspicion?
“Are you sure?” she asked Heather. “Because I’m fairly certain no one could get full on just part of a piece of this. It’s hearty, sure, but–hun, can you pay?” The vendor had been stooped over to talk to Heather, but she stood back up with some effort. “No offense, but you look like you might be a little light on coin.”
Heather felt like she had been dropped into a pit. Found out, just like that. I guess I should just run. She glanced around for escape routes, then stopped and faced the vendor again. Unless the game isn’t over yet.
“It’s true we’re not rich,” said Heather plainly, “and I don’t have anything to give you today.” She raised a finger. “But my dad gets paid tomorrow, and I can come back and pay for it then.” She purposefully made eye contact and then broke it. “If that’s okay.”
The old woman nodded knowingly. “Child, you bring back a copper coin for me tomorrow.” She wrapped a piece of the cornbread in thin paper and handed it to Heather. “What’s your name, now?”
Heather opened her mouth to begin to say her name and paused. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t know how to find me. “Blossom,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hi, Blossom,” said the old woman. “I’m Bronwyn. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She handed the cornbread to Heather.
“See you tomorrow,” said Heather sweetly.
She held the food against her chest and made her way to a quiet alleyway. She unwrapped the cornbread and began to devour it. She tried to slow down, but she ended up choking on a mouthful of crumbs and sour vegetables. Within a minute, she had consumed the entire square, and she leaned against a building, catching her breath after the furious eating.
I’m not full, but the stew will be enough, she thought. Now I have to face the music at home. I’m not gonna be allowed outside for weeks now. She sighed and looked at the ground. Unless. Unless I have a story about why I left, like having a story for the food. But won’t Mom know better? I’m already in trouble–I might as well.
And as Heather began to walk home, her mind was flitting between different excuses, stories that could explain away her behavior, and she found that it was actually quite fun to imagine a way to get what she wanted without trouble.
—
Heather arrived home and discovered that the front door was hanging open. She ducked her head inside and listened.
“. . . and there’s that madman on the loose, and now we’ll never see our little girl again!” sobbed Lily.
“Miss, we will have guards looking everywhere until we find her,” said the guard from before. “There’s no need to panic.”
Heather crept silently down the hallway and stepped ostentatiously into the room where her parents sat talking to the guard.
“I’m home!” she said politely.
“Heather!” cried her mother. “Where were you?”
Heather smiled internally but kept her face as calm as possible. “An old woman asked me for help getting to her house. She needed help with some bags.” She lifted imaginary bags demonstratively.
“You don’t talk to strangers!” yelled Lily. “You could have been in danger!”
“Horrible,” said her father.
“But I’m okay!” said Heather. “I’m here and I’m okay. See?” She did a small spin to show that she was quite alright.
“Never again,” said Lily. “You are not allowed out of the house until next month.” Her voice was firm.
“But Mom!” said Heather. “I was doing a good thing! I was helping somebody!”
“I don’t care!” shouted Lily. “You have to listen to me, even when you disagree.”
“That’s not fair!” said Heather. “I only did things that you say are good.”
“And if you break one of my rules to do it, it’s not a good thing anymore!” screamed Lily, furious. “Stop listening to yourself and listen to me! Now go to your room! No dinner tonight!”
Heather’s heart sank. No dinner? But I’m still starving. She prepared to argue, but as she opened her mouth, her mother cut her off.
“No arguments! Bed! Now!” Lily’s voice was final.
Heather slumped her shoulders and went to her room. It was silent as she did so; the adults in the room sat motionless until after she was gone. She went to her small room and closed the door, and she placed her ear against it to hear the aftermath.
“I can’t believe her!” said Lily. “After all we do for her, she’s so ungrateful.”
“You know, ma’am,” said the guard diplomatically, “I’m a parent too. And kids, in my experience, at least, tend to see things in black and white. She thought what she was doing was good. It’s gonna be hard for her to see that listening to you is more important than helping people.”
“Excuse me!” said Lily. “I know how to raise my child.”
“Lily,” said Heather’s father, “he has a point.”
“Cedric, we’re supposed to be a team,” she said, frustration in her voice.
“And you are a team,” said the guard quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep–I just wanted to help the team. Maybe little Heather will understand if you explain the hierarchy of the rules: this rule supersedes this rule, which is less important than this other rule–she might recognize what you’re saying better that way.”
There was silence for a moment, then the sound of a chair being pushed back and someone standing.
“Thank you for your help, officer,” said Lily. “I’ll see you out.”
Another moment’s silence, followed by another scooting of a chair and someone standing up.
“I’m glad she’s back home safe,” said the guard. “Mr. Turnkey, Mrs. Turnkey, you have a good night.”
Heather could hear boots on the floor going out the front door, then her mother walking back into the living room.
“Some people,” she said. “They just don’t know how to leave well enough alone.”
“He had a point,” Cedric said again. “Heather is six. You treat her like she’s grown already.”
“And how would you know?!” demanded Lily. “Very convenient for you that the guard comes when you’re home for once.”
“Lily.” Cedric’s voice was tired. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to tell Heather that she is allowed out during sunup, and we’re giving her extra breakfast to make up for missing dinner. It’s already too much that she’s in there hungry now.” He sighed. “I know I’m not around as much as you, but that’s just what we have. If you want me to be around more, you can work more. I know we’re not perfect as a family. Let’s not take it out on Heather.”
“Fine,” said Lily. “You want her to get murdered in the street, that’s your problem. I won’t lose another child.”
Another child? thought Heather. What does she mean, another child?
“Don’t you dare, Lily,” said Cedric. “You act like it only affected you. Don’t you see that’s why I was slow to want to have Heather? Don’t you see that losing him was more than I could take?”
“You don’t show it,” said Lily venomously.
“You’re only sour because Heather’s like me, and you want Leonard back because he was like you.” Cedric’s voice was still tired, and smaller now.
“Don’t you dare use that name,” said Lily. “We agreed–never again.”
“You agreed, Lily,” said Cedric, somehow still more tired. “Can’t you see that losing him made you treat Heather this way? Can’t you see you’re smothering her?”
“I can’t do this,” said Lily, pain in her voice. “You don’t know anything about her. You don’t see that she treats the rules like they’re nothing. She’s going to end up a criminal or worse if you have your way.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” said Cedric. “Heather’s a good girl. She’s only learning what the rules are. She’s never going to end up a criminal.”
“Keep your blinders on, Cedric,” said Lily, striding to the kitchen. “Enjoy your stew. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cedric sighed again. “Lily, please, just because we’ve fought doesn’t mean we have to act like we’re not married.”
“Be off to work before Heather is up,” said Lily emotionlessly. “I don’t want her to know you slept on the couch again.”
With that, Lily wordlessly served herself dinner and disappeared past Heather’s door to her own bedroom.
Heather pulled away from the door and climbed up on her bed. Thoughts raced through her head. Leonard? My brother? I knew they were fighting, but I didn’t know it was this bad. Dad says Mom is controlling me? Wait, wait–I’m not in trouble after tonight. I didn’t convince Mom, but I convinced the guard, and the guard convinced Dad, and Dad stood up to Mom. So, I don’t have to lie to someone who won’t believe me; I can convince someone who can convince the person who won’t believe me.
Thoughts continued to swirl through her mind as she tucked herself into bed. And the excitement of finding a new way to navigate the world slowly unfolded itself unto her, nearly enough to distract her from her mostly-empty stomach, which did not seem so bad with the promise of more food in the morning.
—
Heather woke up to the sound of horses pulling a cart by the house. She bolted from her windowless room down the hall, past her mother, and to the front door, which she threw open. A wide cart pulled by two strong horses rolled down the street, a cloaked traveler perched atop it.
“You get back in here this instant, Heather!” Lily’s voice came down the hallway behind Heather, and she reluctantly closed the door and walked to the kitchen, where her mother was sewing a torn blanket.
“You are in a load of trouble, young lady,” said her mother sternly. “Your father and I are very upset with you. Now sit down and have your breakfast.” She reached out a modest plate of eggs.
Heather eyed the plate and its single scrambled egg. But Dad said extra breakfast! She opened her mouth to protest but stopped short. I wasn’t supposed to hear that, or I’ll be in more trouble. She frowned.
“You don’t want breakfast?” asked Lily, pulling the plate back.
“No!” cried Heather. “I want it.” She took the plate and sat down.
As she ate the egg, she reflected on her mother’s tactics. So you can tell a lie if the other person isn’t allowed to know it’s not true? This lying business seemed tricky, but seeing her mother use it on her told her that it must be quite okay to do.
“You have to stay inside,” said Lily. “Until they catch the man who’s on the loose.” She looked at Heather pointedly. “For your own good.”
For my own good, thought Heather. That’s what she always says. She finished the egg and looked blankly at her plate. I should have more food, and for my own good.
“So today, you’re going to help me clean up a bit,” said Lily. “I’m going to go out and get some things for dinner. You stay here and tidy up. You can start by sweeping these floors.”
Heather got up and walked to the corner of the kitchen, grabbing the broom that stood there. She began to sweep very methodically, just as her mother had showed her. But then a thought came to Heather. She began to sweep more erratically, more spreading the dirt and dust around then collecting it. Her mother didn’t seem to notice, so she pushed harder on the broom, and the bristles made a slight scraping noise on the wooden floorboards. Lily looked up and saw Heather’s wild sweeping.
“Not like that!” Lily yelled. “You’re making a mess. Do it like I showed you.”
“Sorry,” said Heather. “Like this?” She began swirling the broom in big circles, spreading the dust wide.
“Heather!” shouted Lily. “This is worse than dirty floors.”
“Oh,” said Heather apologetically. “I’ll do it right.” She made quick, short sweeping motions, pushing the pile of dirt against the kitchen wall.
“Good gods, child,” said Lily, frustrated. “Give it to me.” She held out her hand for the broom.
Heather handed the broom over. “Sorry, mom,” she said. “Maybe I can go get dinner things while you sweep?”
Lily stopped sweeping and turned to stare at Heather. Her eyes were narrowed. “Just to the market and back?” she said after a moment. “Ten minutes and you’re home again?”
Heather tried to look like she was considering it. “I’ll be right back,” she swore.
Lily closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “No distractions. Don’t talk to anybody but the grocer. No detours. And no buying anything else.” She reached into an apron pocket and retrieved a few copper coins.
“Just buy some food and nothing else,” said Heather. “I swear.”
Lily reluctantly held out her hand with the coins inside. “Good. Now be quick.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “A few potatoes and a squash, okay?”
Heather nodded. “Be right back,” she chirped. She headed toward the front door.
“And be careful!” yelled Lily after her.
“I will be!” shouted Asp, already out the door.
—
Heather bounded into the marketplace at the furthest point from the grocer’s stall. She intended to see as much as she could for as long as it might take to haggle over some potatoes. Her eyes scanned as much as they could, searching for either something exciting or some food she might snatch. After considering a spyglass from a respectful distance, she moved on to a baker’s stall. It had pastries and buns of all sorts. The old gnomish man stood looking for customers and curling his mustache. Heather saw an orcish woman with a baby cradled in her arm approach the baker. She timed her approach and walked towards the stall.
The orcish woman asked, “How much sugar is there in these?” she asked, pointing to a handpie.
Heather stepped up to the stall and stood next to the orcish woman, placing her hands as close to a sticky bun as she could without the baker being able to see.
“Only a bit,” said the old gnome. “Most of the sweetness comes from the berries inside.” He glanced down at Heather for a moment, then back up at the orcish woman. “Are you wondering if it’s okay for the young ones?”
The moment he had looked back at the woman, Heather reached up, grabbed a bun, and slipped it behind her back. He didn’t seem to notice.
“My baby is getting big enough for solid food now,” said the mother. “We get onto solid food very quickly as orcs. And he loves fruit for some reason,” she added, shaking her head.
Heather began to slowly back away from the conversation, then turned and walked away, moving the bun around herself so that the baker wouldn’t see it as she turned. She walked quickly to an alleyway and began devouring the bun. Its starchy texture filled her tiny stomach, which gurgled as it received food. She ate the whole thing in under a minute, as much from hunger as from a need to hurry. She could only see a few more stalls before heading to the grocer.
Heather was almost bowled over at a crossroads in the market by a large human man with suspenders. He scowled at her as he passed, barking, “Where are your parents? They should teach you some sense.” She turned up her nose at him and continued.
She saw a stained glass vase made of a spectrum of colors of glass on a table displayed beside modest trinkets like fancy monogrammed coinpurses. The young dwarf behind the counter was explaining to a pair of burly guards that his wares were legally purchased, though their tone in responding to him was not indicative that it was a good idea to stick around.
She saw a collection of smoking pipes which the vendor claimed came from all around the world–“A pipe from every province,” he said. “Places you’ll never see in your lifetime.”
She saw an old woman around whom people always whispered prayers for protection and different languages’ words for “witch” selling dried flowers, poultices, and even a glass jar with a submerged heart. A young boy with a devious grin ran up to the old woman’s counter.
“What kind of animal’s heart is that?” he said, pointing to the jar. “I bet it’s a rat’s.”
The old woman smiled, revealing long, thin teeth that crowded her mouth. “It was from the last little boy who crossed me,” she said, crossing her throat with a long, bony finger.
The boy shrieked and ran off into the marketplace, half in fear and half in play. The old woman’s gaze fell on Heather.
“You look like a little girl who wants something,” the old woman said pointedly. “What do you want?”
Heather froze. She had been enraptured by how calm and yet entirely commanding this woman was. She hadn’t meant to talk to the woman. But this question intrigued her. What do I want? Her head swam. She wanted everything. She wanted the world.
“How do I get people to tell me something that I’m not supposed to know about?” she managed after a second.
The old woman sat back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. “That’s quite the thing to want for one as young as you. I imagined you would want something to eat, by the looks of you.”
“I just ate,” said Heather, proudly patting her stomach. “Thanks, though.”
The old woman scowled. “And I imagine that there’s a stall not far from here missing something that didn’t get paid for?” she asked, her voice gentle.
Heather did her best to keep a straight face. It wasn’t enough.
The old woman smiled at her sweetly. “Child, you better plan on being good or lucky literally every time if you walk that road,” she said. “Now mind you,” you said, conspiratorially lowering her voice a bit and leaning in, “I’m not saying don’t walk that road. I’m saying it takes being perfect to succeed. And you know what they say about perfection?”
Heather thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“They say it’s impossible,” said the old woman. “So be careful, now.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Your want, though. I suppose that I may not really want to know why you want to know that. But since you’re a thief, I suppose some persuasion isn’t exactly corrupting you. What’s your name, child?”
Heather stood up straight and pointed to her heart. “I’m Heather!”
The old woman smiled. “Good, Heather, now listen. You seem to be an observant child. Have you noticed that people tend to say yes and no to things more based on their mood than their reason?”
Heather thought about this as seriously as she could. After a minute, she said, “I didn’t figure it out before. But that makes sense, and I can think of times where it was true.”
“A very observant child indeed,” said the old woman, reaching out to stroke Heather’s hair. “So, knowing that, if you could change the mood of the person when you ask, that would give you a big advantage. But you must realize, there are some things that cannot be changed. Some information will be closed to you, maybe for a time, and maybe forever.”
Heather nodded, her gaze falling slowly to the ground. She sniffed, raised her head to face the old woman, and said, “I’m little.”
The old woman cackled. “That is true, child.”
“No,” said Heather, waving her hands. “I mean, I’m little, and people won’t listen to me and let me change their moods like you can. So you mean I wait for the right time?”
The old woman slightly turned her head, eyebrows raised and jaw open. “You’re going to be one to look out for, Heather. And that’s right. You wait for the right time until you can make it the right time.”
Heather smiled. “Thanks so much! Hey, what’s your name?”
The old woman smiled back. “I have many names. If we meet again, you can call me Terro.”
Heather nodded decisively. “Okay, Terro. Thanks for your help.”
“Was it really what you wanted?” asked Terro.
“Not really,” said Heather after a second. “But I think it’s what I’m supposed to do anyway.”
With that, Heather raced off to the grocer and ran home with the produce without any further distraction.
—
Cedric pushed his chair back from the table and slumped against it. “Very nice meal, Lily,” he said.
“I helped!” cried Heather, thrusting her hand into the air. “I got the vegetables, and I stirred the pot.”
“It’s true,” said Lily. “She was actually pretty helpful today.”
Cedric winced at the word “actually” but smiled afterward. “That’s good. I’m glad you two had a good day.”
Heather felt her stomach growl and thought ruefully of how her mother had drained every last drop of the stew into their bowls; there was nothing more, and the sticky bun from earlier was the only thing keeping her from total discomfort. She would need to visit the marketplace again tomorrow.
“Hey, Lily,” said Cedric sweetly. “I was thinking I’d clean up tonight, and you can run out and stargaze for a bit.”
Lily perked up. “Really?” She tried to hide her grin. “I mean, that would be nice, but Heather . . .”
Heather’s ears burned. Whenever she says, “But Heather,” she means, “I don’t want to be around Heather right now. She doesn’t know I know. Heather stopped and corrected herself: Or she doesn’t care if I know.
“I mean it,” said Cedric. “Give yourself a break. I’ll have Heather help me with cleaning up, since it was such a success today. Go on,” he said, shooing her out of the kitchen.
Lily smiled and headed for the door. “Good night, you two! Love you!” she cried as she headed out the door. The door slammed shut behind her a moment later.
Cedric turned to Heather and gave a weak smile. “It’s us tonight, sweetheart.” He stood and began collecting plates from the table. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Will you talk to me while we clean up?”
Heather was suspicious. Her father had never had a private conversation with her that lasted more than a few sentences.
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. She grabbed the rest of the remaining dishes and walked them the few paces to the wash basin. “What do you want to talk about?”
Cedric began to wash the dishes in the basin. “Well, it’s, um, about your mom, actually.” He sighed. “I know she’s been really hard on you for a while.” He paused. “Maybe for longer than a while, but especially lately. It’s just–the thing is, sweetie, she loves you so much, but sometimes when Mommy is in pain, she has a hard time showing that she loves you so much.”
“Mommy is in pain?” asked Heather, her eyes welling up.
Cedric stopped washing when he heard Heather’s voice crack. “Oh no, Heather, it’s okay.” He picked her up and hugged her close. “Mommy is unhappy lately. And I’m sorry that that makes things difficult for you. We both want the best for you, I swear. Things will get better. We just have to be patient.” He put her down on the floor and looked into her eyes. “You trust me, right?”
Heather wiped her nose and nodded. “I trust you.”
Cedric smiled. “Well, I promise things are going to get better. Just you watch.”
Things are going to get better. She smiled too. I like that.
She looked closely at her father’s smile. “Dad,” she said sweetly, “who’s Leonard?”
Her father looked suddenly decades older than he truly was. He rubbed his eyes. “Um,” he said doubtfully. “Heather, who is Leonard? Where did you hear that name?”
Heather shrugged. “I heard it from you. Through the walls.”
Cedric winced. “Sweetie, listen, you can’t do that. Your mommy and I need privacy.”
“Who is he?” said Heather pointedly.
Cedric sighed. “He was our first child. He died before you were born.” He looked off into the distance. “Your mother and I loved him very much. Your mother especially. She missed him so much we decided to have you,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.
Heather listened and then thought to herself. That’s complicated. But I did wait for the right time, and it worked. Terro was right.
“What was he like?” she asked.
Cedric shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I have already said far more than I should have. Your mother would be furious if she knew. You have to keep this a secret between you and Daddy, okay?”
Heather nodded absently. Already she was thinking along split lines of thought, puzzling out who she was to her parents as well as how to put her new skill to use. If I wait for the right time, maybe I can do both.
You can read the next chapter here!
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