Trading Reds and Yellows
with the big glasses and colorful socks said.
Cassidy followed the squirrel away from the hole and back to the main street of pinecone buildings which to Cassidy’s surprise, was no longer a Wild West ghost town. It was a bustling, noisy town full of life. Woodland creatures of all sorts wore colorful clothing. There were robins wearing hardhats and reflective vests. There were jays with billowing fabric pants in red and purple. There were squirrels wearing suits and ties. There were brown rabbits wearing cowboy hats and spurs. White rabbits wearing monocles and plaid jackets. Cassidy couldn’t believe her eye!
And the buildings were vibrantly colored too. Painted signs out front advertised barbershops, pastries, and hookah. There was a saloon with colorful bottles of blue and red with chants from inside yelling “Drink me!”. The aspen leaf curtains were brilliant yellow, and flower boxes were bursting with irises and pansies everywhere.
“Wait!” Cassidy cried, almost losing sight of the squirrel she had been following. The squirrel weaved back and forth like a downhill skier, crisscrossing left and right. They were heading towards a large square building. The squirrel barely glanced back as it slid inside the door and disappeared. Cassidy followed, catching an eye on the painted letters across the front saying: Seed Exchange.
Seed Exchange? Was this a bank full of edible seeds? Cassidy could guess why the squirrels in Wonderland would want seeds. They would be hungry, waiting for spring just like the robin. She knew sometimes squirrels buried seeds so they could uncover them in the Winter. Was that what the squirrel was trying to do with her tablet? But her tablet wasn’t edible.
Inside, a wide staircase with multiple gilded banisters led up to double swinging doors like a movie theatre. The stairs were made of wood logs, cut flat, and the railings were scrolled with vine decorations that continued across the floor and framed the doorway. Cassidy pushed open both doors, one eye closed, and stood with her mouth open at the turmoil of shouts and shoves.
The huge room was as big as a gymnasium and had more than ten massive columns holding up the domed ceiling. All the columns were made of wood, carved with intricate patterns of twisting and looping leaves. Between each pillar stretched arches connecting them together. Cassidy felt like she was inside a tree, imagining the columns as the beginning of branches extending beyond the building’s ceiling.
Each column was mainly one color, and the closest one to her was purple, followed by a blue column, then red, white, yellow, green, and orange. The columns were each covered with scraps of black and white newspapers with crayon scribbles that matched the column’s color. The floor was strewn with written equations and tallies on torn pieces of paper.
And the chattering noise! The entire Seed Exchange was filled with squirrels. They ran from one column to another, each with a drawstring bag, briefcase, suitcase, or backpack. Voices were yelling, and clawed hands were waving. Tails flicked to match the cackling ticks of the squirrels as they counted what was in their bag. Every now and then, Cassidy saw one reach into their bag and produce a handful of colored wooden blocks. They were trading. It was a madhouse.
“Bugles. Come on, I’ve got three bugles. Who wants them?” One shouted, flashing a blue triangle block. Most of the squirrels surrounded the blue- and purple-colored columns.
“I’ll give you twenty bars for one purp. No? Fine, make it twenty-one bars,” one bartered.
“Bars are a dime a dozen. Make it twenty-four,” another said.
“Anyone trading wholes? I’ve got enough purps and bugles to make it worth your while,” said one running around.
Cassidy saw one squirrel dump a pile of red bars and accept a single blue triangle. Another traded three purple stars for two blue triangles. Then Cassidy spied a squirrel inspecting their loot in the corner. It pulled out a yellow square before stuffing it back in their bag. Is that what the squirrel with her tablet wanted? There weren’t very many squirrels trading yellow blocks.
“Excuse me,” she asked a passerby. “What’s the going price for yells?”
“Few of those around,” the squirrel said, walking away. “I bet I could get forty bugles for a yell if I had one.” They greedily ignored her. Cassidy looked around, watching the traders going back and forth. Selling red bars at one station to buy purple stars at another. Then, turning around to sell the purple stars for the blue triangles. Then trading blue triangles or bugles for even more red bars. One of the blocks was used to mark the newspaper column upon each trade, leaving a colored streak to match the sold goods.
One column near the back had only a few yellow marks on it, and only a couple squirrels were at it. Cassidy dug in her pockets for anything that might be worth something. She didn’t have any blocks to trade. Maybe if she went to the yellow column, she could ask someone where yells came from. She would dig like a squirrel to get yellow blocks if she had to. Cassidy walked over to it.
“Yells?” A new squirrel asked, approaching her.
“Uh, yes,” she said. “Can you tell me where the blocks come from? Do they grow on trees?”
“Three? Three what!” The squirrel insisted. Its eyes grew crazed. This got the attention of another squirrel too, who stopped suddenly. Cassidy looked at them both, confused.
“Three? No, I said tree,” Cassidy tried to clarify. “Like a palm tree, you know?”
“Bang!” They shouted to each other and again to themselves. Then the two squirrels scurried away, reciting “purp three, three purps,” over and over.
The room exploded. The word traveled that someone was throwing the market and lowering the price of yells. Everyone at the blue, red, and white columns ran to the purple column. The shouts escalated; everyone now wanted to trade their bugles, bars, and wholes for purps.
“Two bugles, two bugles. No, how about three bugles. Three blue triangles for one purple.”
The market had been turned on its head by her honest mistake. Soon, Cassidy had four squirrels in her face waving purple stars.
“Give us a yell.”
“I’ve got purps.”
“How many purps. I just want one. One yell.”
Oh no! They thought she had yellow ones already! A large crowd gathered, pushing against each other to get closer to Cassidy and the yellow column.
“Uh, I don’t have any yells. I am looking for yells too.” Cassidy stammered. “I don’t have any!”
The crowd silenced. The extended hands lowered, stuffing treasured purple blocks into their pockets and bags. They looked at each other.
“Get out!” One shouted. Others nodded. Cassidy backed away slowly, her hands raised.
“Get. Out. Get. Out!” The squirrels began chanting at her, their escalated shouts growing angrier and angrier. Cassidy’s back reached the wall. She was trapped by the angry squirrels. Her heels touching the wall, she edged towards the stairs and the exit.
She wasn’t moving fast enough for the squirrels, though. One grabbed at her wrist. Another grabbed at her ankle.
“No!” She cried. “Get away!” But her voice was drowned out by the incessant chanting of “Get out!”
Then she was in the air. The squirrels lifted her up above their heads. Their tiny claws scratched her skin and tore her clothes as she was passed overhead by the mob. They moved as one, carrying Cassidy with them. They pushed open the swinging doors, and upon reaching the stairs, the squirrels, in a violent heave, threw her down the stairs!
Cassidy bounced and tumbled. She closed her eyes and covered her face as she fell, down and down, over the stairs, through the door, and into the street.