Gutter Child

by Jael Richardson

  “What do you mean?”

  Rowan looks around and points at a man with thick eyebrows talking to a small academy boy with a display of potted plants. “See that kid over there?”

  I nod, standing on the tips of my toes so I can get a better view.

  “See that guy in the white suit that’s walking up to them—the headmaster?”

  I nod again as Rowan retrieves two small wooden crates for us to stand on to get a better view. We watch the man with the eyebrows pull out stacks of bills.

  “The money he’s showing the headmaster? That’s the hiring deposit,” he says. “Which the debt manager will take—”

  “Those fancy guys at the door?”

  “Yup. They get assigned when you’re hired, and they’re in charge of tracking your debt until it’s paid,” he says. “And if they die before you do, they just hand their cut to whoever’s next in their family line, usually their kids.”

  “So we have to pass down our debt, and they get to pass down the money we earned?” I say.

  Rowan frowns and nods.

  I feel a sharp turn in my stomach, and I place my hands around my belly as the two men and the young boy move to the debt manager—a man with slick black hair and a shiny watch. The three men talk for a moment while the young boy looks on, and when the headmaster signs the paperwork, the man with the shiny black hair takes the bills, licking the tip of his finger before he begins to count.

  “That conversation that just happened was the most important discussion of that kid’s life,” Rowan says. “He’s what, twelve, thirteen? He didn’t say a word. But they just decided what he’ll earn for the rest of his life and how long it will take him to get Redemption Freedom. And sometimes when I think about that, I don’t know, it messes with me. Like I just want to hit somebody. Anybody.”

  When the employer leaves with the boy, I watch the debt manager and the headmaster shaking hands, pulling each other close and smiling as they pat each other on the back.

  “The debt manager keeps all of that money?”

  “They take it and redistribute it. A portion goes toward the kid’s debt. Some goes back to the school. But the largest portion of that deposit goes directly to the headmaster as a commission,” he says, lowering his voice and leaning in close. “A personal payment for raising a solid graduate.”

  “The headmaster?” I whisper, thinking about the young boy.

  Rowan nods. “Mr. Gregors gets a good chunk for every one of us who gets hired.”

  I look through the crowd and spot Mr. Gregors laughing with a group of debt managers. “Do you think Mr. Gregors is a bad person, Rowan?”

  “It depends on what you’re looking at, Elimina. He’s helped me, that’s for sure. But he’d have to do a lot of things differently if I was going to call him a good person, starting with telling that headmaster from North End Academy not to beat and starve his students.”

  I look over at Shanta Cinder and the rest of the girls from North End Academy, then back at Rowan.

  “Only ones who eat proper at North End Academy are Red Coats,” he says, and I bite down hard on my lip, staring at Shanta and thinking about Ida. “Kid I boxed against said Red Coats get fed for ratting, even if they lie about it.”

  I stuff my hands in my pockets and rub my stomach, which continues to rumble like I’ve eaten something awful.

  “Mr. Gregors may be nicer than some, Elimina. He may do things differently. But he’s one of them. You can’t ever forget that,” Rowan says, resting one hand on my shoulder. “But he also holds our whole future in his hands. So no matter what you think about him, it’s best to stay on his good side.”

  THE GIRLS FROM North End Academy are hired quickly, and while the boys are hired more slowly, they go for nearly double the rate.

  “I can tell you how many crops a Gutter kid can cut and how much that’ll bring me. But how in the hell am I supposed to make any money off the old lady’s clean floors?” I hear one employer say as a group of men laugh.

  Despite all of the introductions and interest, two hours into the fair, no one has hired Louis, David or Violet, and I wonder if Mr. Gregors has made a horrible mistake—if the more mature Livingstone Academy students with higher rates are less desirable. But Mr. Gregors doesn’t seem worried, and by late afternoon, a large crowd begins to gather around them, studying their markers and shouting out questions.

  Louis brags about his ties and Violet shows off her penmanship. But it’s David’s quiet carving that creates the biggest draw, as he forms a three-legged stool from the log.

  “What else can you do?” a man in a black cowboy hat yells.

  “I can make anything out of wood—fences, cabinets, sheds. But that takes me a bit longer,” he says, and the crowd laughs.

  Despite all of the interest in David, Louis is the first Livingstone student to get hired when the owner of a clothing store in Garrett City makes an offer. The woman proposes a solid deposit, few conditions and an admirable rate to take him on as one of her tailors. When the contract is signed, Mr. Gregors places his arm around Louis, who smiles up at him like a child who’s made his father proud.

  “You’ll never find an employee who’s more loyal and trustworthy. He’s never spent a day in the Gutter, and it shows,” Mr. Gregors says, and the woman smiles.

  “It’s always nice to have a young man who knows how to behave, if you know what I mean,” she says.

  Louis steps closer and pats me on the shoulder as he leaves. “Take care, Junior. You keep an eye on things over there,” he says without looking at Rowan, who’s standing beside me, clenching his fist.

  By the time Louis leaves the tent with his contract and hiring package in order, there are only ten other graduates left, including David and Violet, with most of the remaining employers gathered nearby.

  “Why are they just standing around watching?” I say.

  “People want the best deal,” Rowan says. “David’s the last boy because of his hiring rate. But he’s also the best candidate. Those employers think that if they can outwait everyone, they can get him for less. And it’s true, in a way. I mean, if no one takes him by the end of the fair, that will happen. But folks want David. Trust me, they’re going to pay.”

  The crowd buzzes and employers check their notepads as they watch David work.

  “What if more than one person’s interested in David?” I say. “What happens then?”

  “That’s the best part,” Rowan says with a sly grin. “If there’s more than one offer, they’ll bid for him. Like an auction. Or a boxing match. Employers love to fight over graduates. And people love to watch. Especially for a kid like David.”

  “Because he does woodwork?”

  “Yeah. But also because he’s calm and easygoing. Mainlanders like to see guys like me get angry and fight in a ring. But they love to hire guys like David,” he says with a strange curl of his mouth.

  When the man in the black cowboy hat approaches Mr. Gregors, followed by a short old man, Rowan rubs his hands together and smiles all teeth and dimples, like we’re about to see something good.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Gregors says, voice raised so everyone in the tent can hear. “I’m pleased to announce that David Hamble is going to auction.”

  The crowd cheers, whistling and gathering closer as Mr. Gregors places the cowboy and the old man a few feet in front of him. Just as David moves toward Mr. Gregors and faces his potential employers, a commotion causes everyone to turn toward the entrance.

  “What’s going on?” I say.

  Rowan and I step back onto the crates to get a better view of a well-dressed couple moving calmly toward the Livingstone Academy tables. The woman is wearing a plum skirt and a green blouse with a tan hat pulled down to one side, while the man walks alongside her in a collared shirt and a black bow tie, carrying a briefcase in his hand.

  Only they’re not Mainlanders. Their skin is rich and warm like mine, but their hands are unmarked.

  “Do
you think . . . ?” I say, turning to Rowan.

  “They must be from the Hill,” Rowan says. “They’re real, Elimina.”

  The couple moves through the crowd, stopping between the cowboy and the old man, like they’re interested in David as well.

  “Can we get this thing going?” the cowboy says, lifting his hat and combing wet hair off his forehead.

  “Yes, yes. Yes, of course,” Mr. Gregors says, watching the couple closely before placing his hand on David’s shoulder. “Let the bidding begin. Can I get one thousand dollars?”

  The cowboy raises his hand, and when Mr. Gregors increases the price, the old man raises his also. They go back and forth, and I turn to Rowan, lips pouted in confusion because the Hill couple have not said anything. It’s like they just came here to watch.

  “We’ve got ten thousand dollars,” Mr. Gregors says. “Can I get $10,500?”

  The old man squints, shaking his head, as the cowboy grins.

  “Going once. Going twice,” Mr. Gregors says.

  But before Mr. Gregors can finish, the woman in the plum skirt steps forward. “We would like to take that last offer, from the gentleman in the cowboy hat . . . and double it,” she says.

  Rowan and I look at one another, our mouths wide open like caves. Twenty thousand dollars. The cowboy removes his hat and shakes his head, and when Mr. Gregors is certain no one else can beat the offer, he invites the couple to step forward to make it official.

  “Mabel and Harold Freeman,” the woman says.

  “Samuel J. Gregors,” he says. “Congratulations. This young man is an incredible talent. You chose well.”

  “We’re very excited to bring him to the Hill,” the woman says.

  Rowan and I smile and Violet stands a little taller, like she’s hoping to be seen and hired by them as well.

  Mabel Freeman tells Mr. Gregors that they’ve traveled a long way to get to the fair, which is why they were so late. “We came by ferry and then by car, and we’d like to make it back as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.”

  Mr. Gregors nods and instructs Rowan and David to go with Mr. Freeman and transfer David’s belongings while he and Mrs. Freeman finish the paperwork.

  “That was quite the show you put on,” Mr. Gregors says as I hand Mabel Freeman the hiring contract.

  “That was no show, Mr. Gregors. That was a young man’s future we just decided on,” she says, studying the pages closely as Mr. Gregors gives a polite smile.

  “Of course,” he says.

  “And while we’re on this topic, I would like to discuss how we might go about negotiating the percentage of your commission. My interest is in helping that young man. The Mainland rules around hiring here are very particular, as you know, but David will be doing all of the real work going forward, so I’d like to see him get most of the reward, starting now.”

  I watch Mabel Freeman, studying her voice and the poise of her body, like it’s something I can copy.

  “Well, of course, I want to be open, Mrs. Freeman—”

  “I believe that with an offer such as ours, there is room for you to get the sizable commission you expected—plus a little more—without taking too much from the young man. It’s his debt that is of utmost importance to us.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mr. Gregors says, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. “I think it’s important to note, however, that the rigorous training of these young people does come at a tremendous cost to the school and to myself. But, as you said, with the generosity of your offer, I believe your requested adjustment is still more than fair.”

  He looks down at the clipboard and scratches a few notes onto the page, and I watch the way Mabel Freeman signs the documents, handing the debt manager the money from the briefcase like it’s the most normal part of her day. When she turns to me, I almost feel afraid.

  “What’s your name, child?” she says. She takes one step toward me, leaning close, and I feel faint, like the ground is moving away.

  “Elimina,” I say softly.

  “That’s a very pretty name,” she says. She takes both of my hands in hers, and when she turns them over and sees the single X, she looks up, clearly unnerved.

  “Just the one?” she says. I nod, and she turns to Mr. Gregors. “She’s a project case? The—”

  “Yes,” he says. “She joined the academy last year, after the woman who adopted her passed away suddenly.”

  Mabel Freeman looks at him oddly, like she’s angry or annoyed. “And you have her on the academy track?”

  “Project cases are wards of the nation, Mrs. Freeman. It’s out of my hands.”

  “Of course. This place and its rules,” she mutters, shaking her head. “How soon will she be graduating, then?”

  Mr. Gregors looks down at me, hesitating for a moment. “Well . . . as you know, the government requires us to keep her until she’s sixteen, and . . . they’re being very strict about that with Elimina, for reasons I’m sure you can understand,” he says.

  Mabel Freeman leans closer to me, turning up the corners of her mouth. “How old are you, Elimina?”

  “I just turned fifteen,” I say.

  She smiles at me and squeezes my shoulders the way Mother used to do when she wanted me to be brave, like she’s trying to fill me with courage and hope with only her touch and her gaze.

  “Well, then it will only be a year,” she says.

  “You’re going to hire me?” I say, and when she nods, I feel like I might burst, like there’s too much happiness in me to hold inside.

  “Well, Mrs. Freeman, I think that sounds like a lovely idea,” Mr. Gregors says, guiding her to the table where Violet stands. “But may I also introduce you to Violet Masters. She is another one of our graduates, and she’s ready today. She has a very similar skill set as Elimina.”

  “Mrs. Freeman, I just want to tell you that I would love to work for you,” Violet says with a quick bob of her head.

  “Perhaps we could make an arrangement to tie her hire in with David’s, a packaged deal?” Mr. Gregors says, leaning close to avoid being heard by anyone else.

  Mabel Freeman backs away from the table with a polite nod, commenting on Violet’s lovely penmanship before turning around as Mr. Gregors follows. “We are not interested in deals, Mr. Gregors. Especially the kind that make it harder on these kids,” she whispers. “It’s clear Violet is an excellent student, and I’m sure with all of your skill and persuasion, you will find an excellent opportunity to help her on her way. You know as well as I do that there are very strict regulations surrounding how much we can spend while we’re here, and I will not make this young girl’s life harder just to make yours easier.”

  Mr. Gregors smiles politely, but I can see his irritation with Mabel Freeman and his frustration over Violet’s state as he surveys the tent. Only five older girls remain, including Violet, and nearly all the employers have left.

  “As soon as Elimina is free to graduate, I would like to make arrangements to hire her. Perhaps we can avoid the whole mess of the fair altogether. I believe she’s earned that,” Mabel Freeman says to Mr. Gregors, just as Rowan and David return.

  To be with the Freemans on the Hill with David is almost too much to believe, and when David looks at me and smiles, I wonder if my life is not unlucky after all—if luck just has bumps and curves.

  “Hold on to this for me,” David says, handing me the carving of the woman and child. When I start to protest, he interrupts. “Elimina, I want you to have it, to take care of it, until we’re back together. So you don’t forget me.”

  I smile, squeezing his arm. “I’ll see you soon,” I say so only he can hear as he leans over and holds me tight.

  “Maybe we can find a way to bring Jose too,” I whisper.

  He steps back and bites his lip. “Take care of yourself, Elly. It’ll be okay,” he says.

  ROWAN HELPS THE fair organizers move the four other girls to the tables next to Violet, so that all the remaining hires are
standing in a row—older girls in their academy uniforms, Violet in her yellow dress.

  “I shouldn’t have let her wear that,” Mr. Gregors says under his breath, rubbing his hands through his hair as two tall men with messy beards enter the tent.

  “We are late it seems. I just hope we are not too late,” the taller man says when he reaches Mr. Gregors and the other headmasters.

  “Not too late at all,” Mr. Gregors says, extending his hand and stepping in front of the others. “Samuel J. Gregors of Mainland Academy.”

  “Eli Jung. My brother, Sebastian, and I are new to the Mainland. Newlanders, we call ourselves,” the taller man says with a grin that makes me shiver.

  “We own a travel company,” Sebastian says, walking past the girls and studying them closely.

  “You own a travel company?” Mr. Gregors says.

  Violet straightens and smiles.

  “Yes, we make arrangements for business people—flights, hotels, hospitality. We are looking to expand here on the Mainland. Get bigger. Much bigger. We were wondering if these young ladies might do well, working for us. Help us expand.”

  Violet clasps her hands in front of her as Sebastian tilts his head and looks at her, tapping one finger against his lips.

  “Our biggest question for the ladies is travel stamina, you know? There will be a lot of it. A lot of here, there, going, going,” Eli says with a wave of his hands.

  “Violet is an excellent traveler. She is skilled and disciplined. She will train well,” Mr. Gregors says, standing next to Violet as the remaining headmasters echo the same pitch.

  “Lovely,” the Jung brothers say with a nod. “We will take all of them.”

  Mr. Gregors and all of the other headmasters clap and nod to show their enthusiasm, clearly relieved. But when the arrangements are made, the Jung brothers propose rates that go far below their proposed contract, and while none of the headmasters seem happy, all of them accept. Violet gets the best offer, but all five girls are hired for the lowest rates of the day.

  “I’m going to be traveling the world,” Violet says as she packs up her belongings.