"I have two weeks left until I attend that horrible Academy," announced Rosa.

"Yes, you've said," I replied. I was stitching up Ryan's trousers, which he'd ripped "in the middle of practice," apparently. He held his nose high up in the air, but I could picture him getting all excited playing tag with his sisters even if he pretended not to an then falling on his face. Yeah, that was totally something he would do.

Rosa paced up and down the small strip of her kitchen. "This is bad. Really bad."

"Relax," I said, for the hundredth time in the last hour. "You'll be fine."

She scoffed. "You sound like a broken record."

"Excuse me?" I said, highly offended. "I'm broken?"

"No, I meant-- a broken record. It's a saying."

"You liar," I scoffed. "There is no saying like that. What's a record, anyway? Like written records?"

"No, it's a machine--" She threw her hands up. "I give up. It's a thing."

"Yeah, like I would totally believe you."

She only gave me a look before she took up pacing again. "But that's not the point!" she lamented.

Absentmindedly I asked, "Then what is the point?"

As soon as the words left my mouth I instantly regretted it. 

"The point is--"

"Don't you dare say death, Rosa Chesterfield," I interrupted, pointing my needle at her. "I won't stand for it this early in the morning."

She frowned, shaking her light brown hair back to look at the little clock she'd made outdoors. Since we weren't able to afford a clock, she had stuck a straight stick into the ground, since apparently its shadow could tell us the time. "Isn't it already eleven?"

I shuddered. "What a time to be awake! And before you say anything, I had night shift yesterday. I finished at dawn. And I don't have any shifts today. I'll be able to rest, for once."

She plopped down. "What's the occasion?"

I flipped over Ryan's trouser to inspect it from the outside. The telltale line of neat stitches kind of bothered me, and I chewed on the inside of my cheeks. "Mom's bedridden again. I have to get the apothecary to come over." That stubborn mule. He would probably hem and haw and waste an hour of my time before he finally took up his bag.

"I'll come with you."

"Please don't. Your negativity brings me down." Especially since I hadn't been able to corner Paul the other day! What a shame. 

"I need medicine for the twins anyway. I'll go with you to the apothecary's, at least."

I ran a hand over the part I'd just stitched. "Do you think Ryan would dislike it if I embroidered something on his trouser?"

Rosa shrugged. "He probably wouldn't even notice."

I laughed. "Very true. Fine, let's go together. I'll finish up his pants later."

We headed out in the dusty morning, and Rosa bought some celery on the way to the apothecary's. "Celery? I didn't know anyone in your family liked celery," I commented.

"That's exactly why I'm buying it," she responded shortly. 

Then a few stalls later, we came across the watermelon man. He immediately covered his watermelons with his two arms when he saw us, which I thought was very rude. We'd even helped him pick those heavy melons up! And it was Paul who knocked them down anyway!

"I'm never buying a watermelon from him," I said to Rosa, and then we both tossed our heads and went away.

When we passed the fabric shop, which I lingered at until Rosa got tired and pulled me away, I snapped my fingers. "Right, Ro, you still haven't shown me your uniform."

She wrinkled her nose. "That ugly thing? I've been tired of looking at that since I was born."

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, but chose not to comment. "From the students I've seen on the occasional weekend around here, the uniforms are beautiful, so stop lying."

And it was true: the uniforms had pastel blue collars and a comfortably wide skirt, though most of the fabric was cream-colored. The emblem that was embroidered at the right side of the bodice was intricate and a sight for sore eyes. The waist was cinched just so at the back that made anyone wearing it look incredibly nice, and the material--at least from afar--had looked crisp and smooth, nothing like the rough muslin fabrics we wore every day. 

"I've even seen some neat embroidery on some of the girls." My eyes lit up. "Ro, are you going to be learning embroidery at the Academy?"

"As much as I wish we wouldn't, we are." She sighed mournfully. "And I can't even sew a straight line."

I chuckled. "That's because you always pushed all the sewing work of your family to me."

"You said I could!"

"True, but you also could've said no." I tilted my head. "But I have a good idea."

"I love good ideas," Rosa said immediately, then looked at me with expectant eyes. I swear, literal sparkles were coming off of her face right now. "So? What is it?"

"Why don't you take all the lessons of your sewing classes with passion," I said slowly, "and then teach me once you get home?"

"Oh. That's your good idea?" She turned back to face the front. "And for a second I thought genius Fi would strike again." She looked so, well, so dead, that I couldn't help bursting into cackles. "Can it, Filly. We're here." She raised an eyebrow. "But looks like the apothecary isn't."

The apothecary's alley, which always managed to smell both like herbs and the sewer at the same time, was usually lighted up with the open door to the medicine shop, but the door was firmly closed as we approached it.

A sign was on the door, which I couldn't read except for the numbers. I squinted. "Does that say 1:30, Rose? Oh, he better not have gone to lunch for two hours."

"'Gone for lunch, will be back by 1:30,'" read Rosa. "Yep, that's exactly what he did."

I groaned. "Of course he would. And now we have two hours to spare."

"We could stay out here. I already made stew for the kids."

I surveyed our surroundings. This strip of town was full of shops and restaurants, though most of them were way too expensive for any of us to come to on a regular basis.

By far, the cheapest out of all of these places was the cafe, famous for their coffee and not very good at making sandwiches. Still, it was the most inexpensive and still pretty edible, so I sighed and said, "Do you want to eat a sandwich or something at Gilliard's?"

"But they're expensive," she frowned. "And not that good."

"Their sandwiches aren't that bad. The cost, I mean. We could share one," I added.

Rosa considered that. "Okay," she decided, and we clomped our way into the tiny store and halved a dry turkey sandwich with soggy tomatoes. 

Rosa swallowed a mouthful. "How can a sandwich be this dry and have soggy tomatoes at the same time?"

"Chef's secrets," I answered.

"Top 10 things to avoid while cooking," she replied, and then we cackled madly to ourselves before returning to the sandwiches.

"I still can't believe Mr. Rowlandson's going to sell his cow," I said as I bit into the sandwich. "It'sh hish only pozheshion."

"Whut?" Rosa said as she chewed.

I swallowed. "It's his only possession."

She nodded. "He might be looking for--" she stopped, straightening like an arrow before immediately ducking down. She was staring at something behind me.

"What is it?" I started to turn my head, but she hissed and shook her head in warning. "What is it?" I repeated.

"It's the girl!" Rosa whispered hoarsely. She met my eyes. "Paul's girl."

My eyes widened. "The blonde one?"

She nodded, hiding behind her small bit of sandwich as she watched, I presumed, the girl behind me. "She's standing in line. She's getting a sandwich. No, never mind, she's getting a cup of coffee or something. I don't know."

"What should we do? What should we do?" I whispered, frantic. I put down my sandwich and wiped my mouth.

"Never mind about the coffee. She's getting a plate of something. She's pointing to-- ooh, she's getting bacon." Rosa nodded her approval. "That's some good taste."

"What should we do?" I started to hyperventilate. "Should we go talk to her?"

"Keep your voice down!" Rosa gasped. "She's coming this way."

"What?"

"Act natural!" she yelped, and then we both hyper-focused on our sandwiches, tense and not very natural at all. 

"Approaching us in three seconds," Rosa murmured into her sandwich.

"What should we do?" I replied to my own sandwich.

"Two seconds."

I swallowed dryly.

"One."

A shadow fell right across our table, and the unmistakable smell of bacon overwhelmed my nose. "Um, excuse me," a tentative, high-pitched voice said, and I nearly exploded from anxiety. "Aren't you the two girls who were with Paul last time?"

Rosa and I made eye contact briefly. Then we both looked up to see the blonde girl and her plate of bacon, standing at our table with her head tilted innocently.