The Flyer

IT WAS NOT A bad deal, actually, being suspended for the afternoon.

Oscar whistled to himself as he made his way back through the Alley to East Market, happy for the misty reprieve from rain.

His dad’s apology had dislodged a heavy feeling of dread from the center of Oscar’s chest, and although he was feeling a little apprehensive for how the conversation would go at dinner that night, he was feeling better overall.

Except for his eye.

His eye still hurt.

Neko’s stall wasn’t open on Wednesdays, so Oscar walked around a little aimlessly, just browsing the different options, seeing if anything jumped out at him. He ended up buying a glamp and carrot pie from a sweet old woman named Shirley who always gave him a deal.

“Oh, Oscar,” Shirley said when she saw him. “Your poor face.”

“It’s nothing,” Oscar said, shooting her a swollen smile.

“Take this,” Shirley insisted, handing him a small paper bag with an absolutely enormous cinnamon cookie inside it. “For dessert.”

Oscar thanked her, then took the pie and the cookie and made his way back through the labyrinth of food stalls. He could smell the cookie and it made his stomach rumble a little. He hadn’t gotten to finish his sandwich or his apple.

Poor apple.

It was probably fish food by now.

Oscar reached the southern edge of the market and paused, because there, just across the street, was Mr. Cleverer—Saige’s father.

Oscar had never been a huge fan of Mr. Cleverer, to be perfectly honest.⁴⁷

He was a tall, wide-chested man with a deep voice and the same brown skin and hair as his daughter. He always seemed like he was in a hurry, like he was half-distracted, like he didn’t quite have time for whatever Saige needed from him. He was also a workaholic and believed everyone else should be, too, so when he saw Oscar, he gave a big wave, crossed the street, walked right up to him, and said, “Oscar, shouldn’t you be in school?”

Oscar tried and failed to come up with an answer other than I was suspended, because he knew Mr. Cleverer wouldn’t like that. His delay only gave Mr. Cleverer time to really look at him, and Oscar watched Mr. Cleverer’s eyes narrow as he took in Oscar’s bruised face.

“Oscar,” Mr. Cleverer said, “what happened to you?”

“I tripped,” Oscar said.⁴⁸ “They, um… The nurse sent me home early. And said to… rest.”

It was clear from Mr. Cleverer’s expression that he did not believe Oscar. But luckily for Oscar, Mr. Cleverer seemed, as he usually did, like he was in a hurry. He didn’t press the matter.

“Yes, well. I guess you should be getting off, then,” he said instead, glancing at his watch.

“Yeah, I guess,” Oscar said. “Oh, um, congrats, by the way. On the new job.”

One of Mr. Cleverer’s eyebrows raised and he stared at Oscar just a beat too long, as if he were trying to decide something. Finally, thumping his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, he said, “Yes, thank you. We are all quite excited. Well. It was nice to see you, Oscar.”

Another shoulder thump, and then Mr. Cleverer had pressed on. Oscar turned and watched him march right alongside East Market to the East Door of the Wall. The guards didn’t hesitate; they parted immediately to let him through.

Well, that made sense, Oscar supposed.

The Cleverers were moving north of the Wall, so of course Mr. Cleverer would be free to come and go as he pleased.

Feeling significantly grumpier than he had a few minutes ago, Oscar crossed the street, walking between two of the Alley’s northernmost apartment buildings: Crow and Sandpiper.

Just outside Sandpiper was the Alley’s only bus station. The bus made a loop of the Toe, making stops here, by the factories, and at Bleak Beach. There was nobody waiting for the bus now, and Oscar found himself pausing to admire some new graffiti that had popped up on the bus stop’s small shelter. It was of a rat holding a bottle marked with the symbol for poison. A speech bubble had the rat saying, “Oh, no you don’t! I smell a rat!”

Was it just Oscar’s imagination, or did the rat look a bit like Mr. Cleverer?⁴⁹

Oscar was about to move on when he saw a small piece of paper taped to the side of the bus shelter. Curious, he stepped closer—

It was a flyer for the Night Market!

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat as he balanced the pie and cookie carefully against his stomach. He unstuck the flyer from the wall with his free hand.

His fingers were shaking as he brought it closer.

THE NIGHT MARKET IS COMING…

That was all it said.

Under the text was an illustration of an enormous tent with a massive clock at its peak. Although Oscar had never seen it for himself, he knew it was the main tent that was erected in the center of each Night Market.

He folded the flyer as best he could with one hand, then slipped it into his pocket and walked quickly back to the shop.

Footnotes

⁴⁷ And he was even less a fan of him now that he was taking Saige away from the Alley.

⁴⁸ As far as excuses went, it wasn’t his best work, but Mr. Cleverer always made him a little nervous.

⁴⁹ This was maybe not a particularly nice thought, but we’ll forgive him.