The next week went by in a blur as Rue learned the routine of the library. Her job hunting resumed on the days she did not work, but it continued to be a fruitless endeavor. She gradually lost steam, harbouring a fear that she would soon be rejected from every establishment possible. At some point of time, she caught an image of herself in a mirror when inquiring in a clothing establishment for work.

  Rue was tall, and her features were not harsh, though they were not soft. Weather and long periods of hunger had set her features rough and gaunt, over what may have once been a pretty pink-tinged freckled face. Now, she was pale with the winter, but the harshness of her skin remained. Her nose had a visible deviated septum from some long-ago injury, with a tall and prominent ridge that she didn’t consider ugly, even though her sisters had teased her. Her hair was long, and she wanted to think it was pretty. Red-brown strands that had seen abuse, thick and coarse, and hung mostly straight down her shoulders and back, ending in splits and breaks that she had never cared about; but now she stared at them, wondering.

  Rue looked boyish, something in between woman and man, making her look a bit younger than she really was; her height, taller than the average woman in this city, added to this. Her small chest and lanky, undefined body did nothing to help. She had never cared, but now, she wondered.

  Her eyes were her favorite feature. They were just green, but she liked how she looked staring into her own gaze. They were bright. Sharp. Intense. When she hunted, she fancied thinking herself like a predator, radiating danger and confidence just by her stare. They had not been worn by weather or cracked from lack of care.

  But now, looking at the same eyes, she saw something that looked too out of place here. They were not the same eyes that others looked at her with; they were too feral.

  Every rejection, she saw herself in that mirror and the details she saw got harsher and harsher. Her face felt long and twisted, her hair matted and dirty, her clothing torn and carrying the scent of her nights on the street, her eyes too unfriendly and cold for comfort. She saw it in the way they looked her over, a flicker of inspection before judgement was rendered. In how, most of the time, she was turned away without a chance of consideration.

  The polite ones inquired about her experience, which was never enough. If she lived in the city, for how long, and where. Even offering up that she worked at the library already never helped. She could see that many didn’t believe it. She wondered too, if her voice itself set her apart. She realized she didn’t talk like the people in Whesirki did. When they did believe her, Rue just fumbled on selling herself for the rest of the job.

  Reading lessons with Thaddeus were going fairly well. She knew more than she realized, but it was weak. Memorizing words was easier than actually learning how to spell anything out on purpose or how to read something new, of which both were still bordering impossible. It was frustrating, but Rue found herself fond of his attention during the lessons. He never mocked her. She looked forward to the time, even if she left frustrated each time.

  But Rue did not want to wait to become more educated for a job, or wait to make enough coin to figure out how to make herself more presentable.

  She found herself stealing on a daily basis to try to protect her small horde of coins.

  Thieving was an easier thing to learn, one where she was content to study stalls and even some stores for hours. She blended with a crowd more than the shadows, and started to fear being caught less and less. Sometimes, going into a store to scope out a job was just a chance to pocket something while she grew more confident in peppering meaningless questions to distract a shopkeeper.

  Which is exactly what she planned on doing now.

  Rue wandered into a storefront with an open sign, a bell dinging when the door had opened. The counter was absent of anyone. It had winter clothing displayed in a window, and several displays of clothing confirmed that it seemed to be an apparels store. Her gaze had swept over the displays, looking for anything simple enough to swipe, but it seemed fairly sparse compared to others she had been within.

  “Oh, hello, cousin!” A giggling voice surprised Rue, her attention blinking away from the display mannequins to the counter. A woman had appeared there, and it took Rue a moment to recognize that she was the very same woman who had intercepted at the gate when Rue first came. “How’d you find me here?” Her vibrant greeting caught Rue off guard, immediately derailing what she had hoped to be an easy theft.

  “I wasn’t looking for you,” Rue said defensively. “I’m just looking for a job.”

  “Oh, then you really weren’t looking for me. You don’t want to work here,” the woman said, her voice falling much lower, but not quite yet a whisper.

  “Mavis? Who is there? Have the Turner’s come for their order?” A voice called from the back of the shop.

  The woman, Mavis, wrinkled her nose, her smile suddenly looking much more forced. Her vibrant green eyes stayed bright, and Rue suddenly remembered why she had been ready to believe that she was a relative. They looked much alike, but Mavis seemed to be the feminine version of her. She was chubby, her skin glowing with a tanner hue than Rue’s own, and lacking any sign of harsh exposure to the weather. Her hair was more true to red, and fell in full, bouncy curls that seemed like they would be difficult to tame, but she had tamed them quite well. Freckles dotted her cheeks like stars on a clear night, and her bright green eyes carried an ocean of warmth within them. Her smile held no sinister, predatory shift, nor did she look like prey.

  Rue hated her immediately.

  “No, mother!” Mavis called back in a sing-song voice. “It’s just a friend!” Mavis waved her hand at Rue, in a gesture that seemed to be trying to communicate, ‘just stay quiet’, ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘it’s perfectly alright’. Maybe. It was an elaborate gesture and Rue wasn’t sure if it meant all three, something else, or just one of them. She just stared at Mavis, brows raised as she called back and forth.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Tell your friend to come back later! We’re busy!”

  “Yes, mother! I’ll be back in just a minute!”

  “A minute is too long, Mavis! Stop wasting time!”

  “I’m apparently always wasting time,” Mavis fake-whispered to Rue again. “I’m sorry, mother! I’ll be right back!”

  “You are always wasting time!” The woman snarked back, sounding even more irritated, and apparently but unsurprisingly able to hear her. The space seemed rather small.

  “My friend needs measurements taken!” Mavis called back. “She needs an adjustment on her dress!”

  “I’m not wearing a-...”

  Mavis had already bounced around the counter, grabbing a roll of measuring tape that sat upon a pile of many on the counter. She grabbed Rue’s arm, straightening it out, and started wrapping it around, taking rapid assessments. Rue was bewildered, cringing at the touch, but it was happening too quickly for her to react.

  “Oh! Good, good,” Mavis’ mother called back. “Let me know if you need anything, my love!” Her attitude had changed on a dime as soon as she believed Rue was paying for something. Rue was actually concerned she’d end up walking out with less coins, instead of a job, or even a stolen item.

  “Don’t mind her,” Mavis actually, truly whispered this time. “She just doesn’t believe in joy. My joy, in particular. You should get a dress though. I think you’d look lovely in one.”

  “I…No, what? I can’t afford a dress. I don’t want one.” Rue whispered, mostly because she wanted to avoid drawing the attention of the overbearing mother again.

  “That’s a shame. I’ll keep your measurements! Just in case. Trust me, uh-...Oh, what’s your name?”

  “Rue.” She frowned deeply.

  “Rue! Well, Rue, trust me. You’d look great in one. It’d be easy to get one made to your measurements. I can’t offer you a job, and trust me, you don’t want one here, but I can offer a dress. I can offer anything! A shirt, a coat, pants, all of the different variations and types. Scarfs, too, but you are wearing a rather lovely one already.”

  Rue thought about protesting how badly she wanted a job and decided that she’d easily rather just not work here.

  “I don’t need anything made. I mean, maybe I do, but I’ve got no coin. Why do you think I’m looking for a job?”

  “That’s a very good point.”

  “...So, that means you can stop taking my measurements,” Rue grumbled, wincing as Mavis moved the tape around her bust, her waist, and her hips.

  “They’re for juuuuust in case,” Mavis insisted.

  Rue felt her cheeks heat as irritation flooded her. Every shift of the touch made her skin burn, even with the barrier of her bulky clothing. It didn’t make sense to have measurements taken with her layered clothing still on, but that was beside the point.

  “I killed your merchant,” she hissed out, the words falling before she had time to think about actually saying them.

  Mavis came to a stop with that, looking at Rue with wide eyes. Rue had braced herself for a horrified reaction, or at the very least upset and disdain, but…Mavis actually looked intrigued, possibly even delighted.

  “You did? Why did you do that?”

  Rue stammered, brows creasing at the unnerving expression she was met with. “...I think it was him,” she said. “Based on what I heard of him. He was a right creep, he was. Started touching me.” She paused, noting that Mavis’ expression hadn’t faltered a bit. “So, I stabbed him, and he died.”

  Mavis nodded slowly, the measuring tape lowering. That had been Rue’s main goal, to shock her away from touching her. She took advantage and stepped back an arms length, trying to get out of the dangerous zone. “Mother was certain that the textiles on that cart - the one of the murdered man - matched her order she had been expecting. And no one else ever came around with anything for her, and it’s now far past the due date.” She sighed, and Rue expected a shadow to finally overtake her. One did not.

  “...He was such a creep! Mother has always ordered from him, and would you believe he’s tried to lure me into a bed since I was even younger than you? He’s far better off dead. Did he…Do anything to you?”

  Acceptance, approval, and concern for Rue had been the last thing Rue expected. It made her hate the woman even more. Mavis didn’t seem that much older, but it was hard to tell. Her face was youthful, but Rue could see that she might be several years older if she squinted.

  “He didn’t get a chance to get far,” Rue grumbled.

  “Oh, good, that’s very good. I won’t tell a soul about it! You’ve probably done a service for young women everywhere,” Mavis nodded quickly.

  Rue scoffed. “You’re willing to cover for murder for me?” She challenged back, in disbelief.

  “It’s a good murder!” Mavis gestured defensively, or something akin to that, in rapid sways of her hands.

  “You’re crazy, lady. The guards already know of it! Some lady Captain has got a truth-telling magic, and she decided I didn’t need to die for refusing to get raped.” Rue sneered as she said it. She was grateful for the rightful judgement, but the act of even being judged made her skin crawl.

  “See, then it is good murder! I’ll make you a dress for free.” Mavis had let her voice lift up in her excitement, and it appeared to be just enough that the voice in the adjoining room answered right up.

  “No one will be getting free anything, Mavis! What are you on about? Come here right now.”

  Mavis rolled her eyes deeply and bounced back, rolling the tape up in expert speed. “I should get back there,” she groaned in pained dramatics. “Come by again soon, alright? You heard already, but I’m Mavis! Mavis Quill, at your service.”

  “Right,” Rue grumbled. “I’ll hurry my way back here as soon as I can.” It was thick with sarcasm, but it earned a delighted giggle from Mavis.

  “Trust me, I know she’s a lot! You get used to it though!” She insisted. Rue realized that she thought it had to do with her mother, rather than Mavis herself. “I’ll see you around!” With that, Mavis spun around and left Rue alone, once more in front of the shop. She understood it to be a traditional tailor shop rather than an outright apparels shop, which explained why the pickings were so thin.

  It didn’t stop Rue from finding a pair of display gloves, trying them on for a fit, and ultimately walking out with them on.

  I earned it for enduring that.