“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Jessica asked, running towards her two friends. Her handbag, which held her money, swung from her shoulder. On the right sleeve of her short-sleeved shirt, her identification braid swung from where it was clipped to the hem. It was a white piece of braided rope with a tassel on the end, like the braid on the sleeve of all the other children her age. Everybody wore a color-coded braid.


“Tessie forgot her money,” explained Amy.

“I didn’t forget it!” protested Tessie.

“You left it a home. If that’s not forgetting, I don’t know what is,” grumbled Amy.

“Whatever,” said Jessica dismissively. “Come on, already. We don’t want the market to close before we get that present for your mom, Tessie.”

“The most wonderful bracelet you ever saw, I tell you,” enthused Tessie. “She’s going to love it,I hope the vendor is still at the market. I saw it yesterday, the most wonderful bracelet—“

They had reached the market and saw the vendors with their green braids hanging from their sleeves, assembled near little tables, displaying anything from food to jewelry to household items. Tessie spotted the bracelet on a table and hurried towards it, but their path was cut off by an older girl, quite pretty, running across the cobbled street. She seemed distressed by something, her long blond hair flew behind her and her eyes looked worried. A few young people appeared around a corner, rushing after her. They called, “Are you coming with us, or not?” The girl stopped and whirled around angrily, and the passers-by gasped, for they could all see the golden braid clipped to her sleeve.

 The crowded marketplace tensed. Jessica, Tessie, and Amy glanced fearfully at each other, then backed away. The customers at the market rushed away from where the scene had taken place, parting rapidly so the girl with the golden braid could resume her hasty path down the street. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, a yellow braid,” chanted Amy in a hushed voice. Silence fell as everybody resumed their positions, then the market tentatively started up again.

Jessica peered cautiously down the street. “She’s gone. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” quavered Tessie.

“It’s okay,” repeated Jessica. “Come on, let’s get Tessie’s mom the bracelet and then I want to stop by the bakery and get some Giraffe Bread.”

Giraffe Bread was a small, sweet yellow roll with brown sugar on it in patterned spots. It had been dubbed “Giraffe Bread” by the younger members of the community due to its yellow and brown exterior.

As they walked the remaining way to the market, each of the children took the time to look around. It was a lovely morning, quiet in the streets except for the shoppers. People were walking—people always walked. They held bags as they walked to the market, or held leashes as they were pulled up and down the streets by their dogs, which were always either very large or very excited about something. There were trees bordering the streets. If you walked down them far enough you would see the neighborhood, with its little houses with front porches.

There was a small line of people in front of the vendor’s stall, and a man with two small children, then a tall lady, were in front of them. As the man selected his item from the table and paid for it, the children sat on the ground and bawled. The man reached into a paper bag he held and extracted a piece of Giraffe Bread, tore it in half, pressed each piece into the palm of his children, picked them up by their free hands, and dragged them off. The tall lady shuffled forward as Tessie pointed at the bracelet which she had spotted on the table and made her friends admire it.

“It is beautiful,” agreed Amy. “The way the different colored stones go all the way around!”

“I wonder if it’s real silver?” mused Tessie.

“I doubt it. It’s probably just foil gum wrappers hammered into a circle,” said Jessica.

“Jessica!” exclaimed Tessie. “It is real silver! It is!”

Jessica began to counter, “I don’t know—” but everybody stopped talking because the vendor was yelling.

“No! I refuse to do business with you!” he shouted.

“Please! All I want are some little earrings,” the tall lady begged. “Some little earrings for my friend.”

“No!” he repeated.

“Just some little itty bitty earrings?” she wheedled. She moved her arm slightly as she gestured, and the girls behind her could see the black braid clipped to her sleeve. They backed up instinctively, knowing that the black braid meant that the person has a criminal history.

“No, no!”

Finally she moved off and the girls stepped forward. “How many times do I need to keep telling them no?” the vendor asked nobody in particular. “Them’s dangerous people with the black braid. Comin’ up here all nice, but actually stealin’ stuff. At least she didn’t have a yellow braid, now that would have been bad.” His gaze turned to them. “Now, y’all are good little girls. You make sure you never end up wearin’ a yellow braid, hear? Those people with yellow braids come around selling illegal false braids, so one that’s real bad can turn out lookin’ real good. Someone like that black-braid lady yonder can make like they’re just as innocent as you an’ me. Man, those with yellow braids are a real problem, now. Should be ‘shamed of themselves. Oh well, what can I do for you ladies?”

Tessie excitedly selected the bracelet she wanted and asked for it to be gift-wrapped please. “What a polite young lady,” said the vendor. “You’ll never wind up with a yellow braid for sure.” He wrapped the bracelet in white tissue and put it in a small bag before handing it over.

The girls wandered over to the bakery, which was just a little bit down the road. “What if that lady had really wanted to buy some earrings for her friend, and not steal anything at all?” asked Jessica.

“No,” decided Amy. “She was a criminal and she still is a criminal and anyways she’s a bad person and shouldn’t have any friends.”

“Amy, that’s rude!” protested Tessie.

“Amy, that’s rude!” mimicked Amy, and they all giggled.

“Careful, guys,” cautioned Jessica. “Here’s somebody selling false braids.”

They crossed to the other side of the street, glancing fearfully at a woman with a yellow braid swinging from her sleeve. She was sitting on the ground against a wall which belonged to a furniture store. Before her on a small tablecloth were identification braids of all different colors. People crossed the street or steered themselves away, and there was nobody close to her except for a tall lady handing over a black braid.

“Isn’t that—” began Tessie.

“The lady from the market,” finished Amy.

They walked past slowly and saw the woman with the yellow braid take the black braid and put it in a box. Then the tall lady from the market selected a green braid from the layout on the tablecloth. Green meant that the person made something, then sold it at a market. Green made you a vendor. The woman with the yellow braid picked up the green braid, attached it to a clip, and snapped it on the sleeve of her customer. Then the tall lady reached into her handbag and pulled out a wad of bills, giving them all to the woman with the yellow braid. They exchanged nods in a kind of secret way, and then the tall lady sauntered off with her new green braid. The girls noticed that nobody ordered her away from the stores, and she mingled with the crowd. Her reputation was erased.

 

Read Part Two of this story here!