Chapter 3, part 1

"There she is!" Thom grabbed Beck's sleeve and pulled him along through the crowds, his messenger bag bulking with apples. Beck sighed audibly, but not audibly enough, apparently. Still limping slighty, he barely managed to keep up as Thom skipped past stand after stand full of the most delicious looking exotic foods.

The people in this city appeared to save up all year to be able to spend that little bit more around Christmas. Pineapple, Moroccan spices and fancy fabrics were getting more attention than usual, even from the poor plebs. The carpenter booths were cramped with the most beautiful ornamented crucifixes. Thom himself had been forced to spend the past week carving skinny Jesus figures out of cross-shaped blocks of wood for their little shop. It wouldn't have been so bad, had he been religious, or even remotely interested in the Church. As it was, it seemed that Thom was born with this default and would have to live with the fact that everyone around him was absolutely certain that someone up there in the clouds was looking at them, judging them and taking mental notes to bring them up there or throw them into a giant bonfire that was going on under their very feet.

No. Not for Thom. Thom had seen newly born brothers and sisters die in his arms, and they weren't going to heaven at all. They were put in a hole in the ground. Wasn't that where the bonfire was? Where hell was? He had never been more sure of anything in his life than the fact that these tiny little creatures, born into the world only a few hours, weeks or months, hadn't done anything wrong yet. If there was a heaven, they'd go up there. No matter what his mum tried to tell him, that only the soul would go up (but how would they live?) and spend forever in the Lord's Kingdom, he wasn't buying it. The only proof they had was the writings in a very old book and some paintings. But anyone could learn how to write, all the rich people could, and even Thom knew how to paint.

He and Beck had spent more than a few afternoons trying to come up with alternate possibilities, some as silly as the Church's, some very serious ones that would make them start to look at everything in a new way, and some so stupid and absurd they'd still double over laughing when one of them brought it up.

When Thom and Beck weren't trying to come up with a new religion, they were busy making the rich people's lives miserable. It was the only way they knew how to deal with the overwhelming feeling of injustice. It just wasn't fair that they'd have to work fourteen hours every day to survive in this city, whilst others had nothing better to do than show off their precious clothes and take their snotty little children out for a walk, looking down on them as if they were scum. Well, to be fair, Beck didn't really work either, though if you asked him he'd tell you he worked twenty-four hours a day to keep himself alive. He just chose not to make an honest wage practising a profession, and to steal other people's wages instead. Thom simply had no choice but to work in the family's carpentry. He'd learned how to chop wood from a ridiculously early age and at seven he'd made his first bedside table. Now, age fifteen, he was a full employee under his father's severe supervision. The results of that supervision were visible all over Thom's body in the form of scars, bruises and the occasional cigarette burn. Thom never complained, not with him around, but he was a chronic thinker and had spent enough time contemplating his life versus the upper class's. The only thing it gave him was a clear view of this rotten society, soaked with injustice. So every time Thom and Beck were together, a tiny bit of wrong in the world would be righted.

Like right now.

"Thom, slow down, my ank-"

"Oh, shut it, you big girl, that was ages ago."

"It was only last month!"

"Shh!" Thom turned around and ostentatively laid his finger over his lips, frowning. The bright green hooded cloak was no more than two people away, slowly and hesitantly making its way past the market stalls. Easy peasy, Thom thought, as he eyed the basket that was hanging from an arm, full of the most beautiful apples. He knew why he always followed her, she had an eye for quality. Glancing around one last time, he positioned himself right next to the basket and started quickly replacing her load with his own rotten apples, filling his messenger bag with what he and Beck would be feasting on later.

Thom was prepared to bolt as soon as she'd turn around, but he wasn't prepared for the arm grabbing his, without her body having turned an inch. The cloak fell off and two of the darkest eyes stared furiously into his. The girl's face had been hidden by the hood, her cloak put on backwards, and her arm was folded behind her back, holding the basket. She'd been watching him through the thin fabric of the cloak, Thom realised with a jolt. And despite being caught, a slow smile spread on his face. This lady was smart. The smile soon faded when she opened her mouth to yell.

"You! It's been you all along, hasn't it? Stealing my apples every time, replacing them with rotten ones? You rankish, cow-skilled scullion!"

Thom heard Beck snort loudly at this insult. He was about to turn around to him when a small hand grabbed his chin.

"Are you even listening to me? You have no idea what you've been doing, have you? You've been toying with my very life! My job depends on this; without it I'm nothing, I'd live on the streets!"

A crowd was gathering around them and normally Thom would've just run away, not caring in the slightest about whoever he robbed, not if they were wearing clothes that were worth double the house he lived in. Now, however, he was staring into the young girl's eyes, darker than he'd ever seen a pair, who were tearing up despite the anger in them and her voice, and she furiously wiped at them. And for the first time, Thom felt bad. He actually felt bad for her. He hadn't realised that he had in fact been playing with her life, that this was her job, rather than a display of status.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... to... look, I'll give you back your apples," Thom said, dumbfounded, and started to pick out the good apples from his bag, but the girl jerked it out of his hands and started doing it herself. Thom just stood there, frozen.

"Don't you ever dare coming near me again or I'll have you dismembered, you newt-spotted hayseed! I know what you look like now!" were her last words as she stomped off, clutching her basket in her arms, long black hair flapping on her back with every step.

It was quiet for a moment, except for the crowd around Thom muttering disapprovingly. There was a hand on his back and then a voice in his ear.

"Damn, she's hot when she's mad."

This seemed to make Thom gain consciousness. He turned around, defeated, and quickly took off in the other direction, leaving Beck, his weak ankle and his witty retorts behind at the market.

***

It was the day before Christmas when he spoke to her again. For the past two weeks Thom had been trying to make it up to her, figuring out what her route was, waiting for her at the corner of the street. The first time he thought he could just go over and say he was sorry, but she quickly changed direction and left him standing there. The second time he brought a flower. Since there weren't any flowers around in the winter, he'd carved one out of a leftover piece of wood. It had taken him over an hour. She didn't even look at it, just pushed past him as he quickly recited his rehearsed speech. He'd spent the last couple of days trying to figure out what he could do to make it up to her, and came up with only one skill left unused: his voice.

There's a gap in between
There's a gap where we meet
Where I end and you begin

He'd seen her walking in his direction, but didn't look at her as she approached. He just kept on singing, trying to ignore the other people who were staring at this crazy boy, singing absolute nonsense at no one. He closed his eyes and kept going.

I'm sorry for us
Dinosaurs roam the earth
The sky turns green
Where I end and you begin

When he finally opened his eyes, she was standing right in front of him. Her head was tilted in a curious fashion.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked.

Thom blinked.

"Learned what?"

"That." She waved her hand in his direction. "To sing like that."

"I don't know. I just do." Thom paused, then added, "I'm really sorry about what I did. I put your life in danger, I know that now. It was wrong, I won't do it again."

She looked away, uneasy.

"Please," Thom pleaded. "Please say you'll forgive me. I haven't slept properly ever since."

Thom didn't know why it meant so much to him, but it did. The girl looked up, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"I forgive you," she started, and Thom felt a wave of relief washing over him, "if you keep singing."

Thom laughed and tried not to blush too hard.

"Alright," he said. She likes music, he thought. My music.

And so he sang on, and she stood there, looking at him as if she could read him as he poured out his heart. It was one of the single most intimate things he'd ever done.

When the song ended, she looked up at the church tower and hastily said her goodbyes, they would be expecting her home soon to help with the Christmas dinner.

"Where do you live?" Thom asked.

"I'd rather not say. Besides, you probably don't even know where it is," she said, waving him off.

"Come on," Thom begged, "try me."

"You don't even know my name!"

"Then tell me your name, too, if that's what's keeping you from telling me," Thom smiled.

She seemed to think for a moment, then went up to him and brought her mouth to his ear.

"D'Haene-Steenhuyse," she whispered softly.

"What??" Thom cried out, baffled. D'Haene-Steenhuyse was the residence of the Groenewaudt family, one of the wealthiest in the city. The fine fabric of her green cloak had revealed a certain status, and her rosy, rather plump cheeks had given away that she was well-fed, but this?

"Wait!" he called, but she was already skipping off.

"Your name!" Thom yelled.

She did a quick pirouette, let out a high-pitched "Natasha!" and disappeared behind the corner with her basket.

Thom spent two more minutes staring at the spot where her cloak had left his sight, something between a laugh and a look of total disbelief on his face.