by Everly James
The four of them boarded the train, showed the conductor their tickets, and found their way to one of the empty cars.
“I’m dozing all the way there,” Marcy announced, taking up two seats for herself. “I always sleep like a baby on trains.”
“Big night last night?” Melody asked.
Marcy barely suppressed a yawn.
“She drank some Duke under the table,” Dylan said, throwing his suitcase on the top rack and plopping into his seat. “How many tequila shots did you have, exactly?”
“I don’t drink and tell, Dylan,” Marcy said, pulling out a neck pillow and enormous headphones that she wrapped around her neck.
“What’s the first stop in Paris?” Dylan asked.
“The airport.”
Dylan guffawed. “You’re funny.”
“I’m dead serious.”
Dylan side-eyed her and glanced at Herschel. “Is she serious?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of these plans,” Herschel replied, trying to keep his voice even.
The train started moving and everyone except for Melody sat down to keep from falling over.
“Can I see your phone?”
Herschel raised his eyebrows. “Why is that?”
“I want to play Snake,” Melody replied seriously.
Herschel whipped his phone out and passed it to her. Melody walked over to the train compartment doors, pushed them open, and tossed the phone out into the countryside.
She brushed her hands on her pants as she stepped inside, feeling grubby already from touching the door handles. “Now that’s taken care of, I think I can get on with my plans.”
Herschel was a shade of purple Melody had never seen. “That—that’s my—that was my phone! How will I be able to communicate with your mother?”
“Exactly,” Melody said. She leaned her seat back and slid on a sleep mask. “Wake me when we’re in Paris, will you?”
It wasn’t long before the rocking of the train had sent her into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
“New York City?”
Dylan and Marcy were staring at her like she’d lost her entire mind. They were standing at the ticket counter in Charles de Gaulle Airport amongst a crowd of international passengers. The airport smelled like a mix of jet fuel, freshly made baguettes, and cologne.
“New York City,” Melody repeated. “What’s more American than that?”
Marcy laughed. “I can’t argue with her there.”
Herschel kept biting his lip like he wanted to say something. “Ma’am, I honestly think, if you don’t mind my saying so, that you are well out of line with what your mother would want you to be doing.”
Melody raised her eyebrows suggestively. “And that is exactly why I’m doing this.” She gave Herschel a high five that he reluctantly participated in. “It’ll be fun. I have my debit card and a full bank account. I spend a few weeks there and—”
“A few weeks?” Dylan and Marcy asked together, astounded.
“No, honey. Some of us have jobs. We can’t possibly spend a few weeks in New York City. It’s not going to happen.” Marcy crossed her arms as if that solved the matter.
“Fine. Then you all can come with me for the weekend and then I’ll be on my own for the weeks following. Easy as pie.”
“Not entirely on your own, ma’am,” Herschel pointed out. “I will certainly remain with you for the entirety of your trip.”
Melody ignored him. “So, are you in or not?”
Dylan was grinning. “I kind of like this. Princess gone rogue. It’s exciting.”
Melody gave him a one-armed hug. “This is the kind of support I was looking for. Now. Am I buying four tickets?”
Marcy sighed. “Fine. But you still owe me a trip to Paris after this is all over with, okay?”
“Deal,” Melody said.
She could feel the excitement fizzing in her blood. There was adventure in the air, which was exactly how she liked it.
CHAPTER SIX
The welcome packet had more information than Ellie could possibly absorb in one sitting. A list of rules and regulations that was longer than ten pages, a schedule that spanned a dozen more, and a code of conduct that had a hundred bullet points. The thought of it rankled her; for a place that purported to be free-wheeling and anti-capitalist, there sure were a lot of boundaries to respect.
As it stood, there were rules forbidding fraternization (there goes Eric’s theory about sex slaves, Ellie thought), chewing gum, excessive noise, and even spending too much money on what the handbook called “useless tourist crap.”
Taking all this in, Ellie set down the welcome packet and got to work unpacking. The room was small: eight and a half feet by eleven, with sloped ceilings and a small stained-glass window that spun around to let air inside. There were two twin beds, two dressers, and a small sink with a cracked mirror over it. Ellie spread out the quilt her mom had made her when she was a kid. It was a patchwork of flannel squares taken from old pajama bottoms and scrap bins. It was this more than anything else that made her feel comfortable and at home. She’d had it on her bed in college.
A knock came from the door.
“Hey, you want to head down to dinner? There aren’t enough seats at the table so I like to get there early.” Constance peeked her head inside. “Wow, you get settled fast.”
“I like to feel at home as quickly as possible,” Ellie explained. “You finish your episode?”
“Yes. I can’t wait to get back to it tonight, assuming Jason doesn’t shut off the WiFi, that is.”
Ellie looked at her in deep confusion. “Shut off the—”
“Ladies!”
Constance jumped.
It was Jason. “How’s it going?” He had that same grin pasted on his face.
“We were just about to head downstairs for dinner,” Constance said.
“Great. I just wanted to talk with Ellie alone for a few minutes.”
Constance raised her dark eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“What’s up?” Ellie asked, putting her last pair of socks in her dresser.
“I just wanted to get a feel for how you are feeling about everything. I assume you got some reading done?”
“Yeah, mostly. It’s a little—”
“Over the top?” Jason smiled. “We like to cover all our bases. Don’t worry, I won’t be hanging you up by your thumbs if you forget a few things.”
Ellie laughed. “That’s good to know.”
“Don’t get too comfy having your own room. We tend to get a lot of applicants at the last minute.”
“Noted,” Ellie said, wondering why this was exactly the opposite of what Velia had said earlier.
A bell clanged from somewhere downstairs.
“That’s dinner,” Jason said with a smile. “You ready?”
And what a dinner it was. The scrubbed wooden table long enough for thirty people was loaded with roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, collard greens, Waldorf salad, and peach pies. Ellie was happy to see the faces of her fellow students lighting up the room with conversation.
“Is this all from the farm here?” Ellie asked Constance, who had saved her a seat at the table.
Constance laughed sharply. “It’s supposed to be. But it’s not. Maybe the collard greens are from here.”
There was a dark undercurrent in her tone that made Ellie feel worried. Was this place not all that she had hoped for it to be? The website had made it sound like the Block was entirely self-sustaining. But before she could ask any questions, Jason was tapping his handmade ceramic mug with the side of his knife.
“Attention! Thank you,” Jason said with a smile as the room settled down. “Tonight is our welcome feast for Ellie Mayhew. Ellie, stand up, please.”
Ellie blushed furiously as she stood up and waved sheepishly at the crowd.
“Poor Ellie has dish duty her first week here,” Jason said. The room groaned appreciatively at those words. “But
we know she’s going to take it on with a smile. Now, some announcements.”
Jason went through a list of important issues, including who would be staffing the upcoming farmer’s market. “We need some more volunteers.”
Ellie’s hand shot into the air before she was even certain of what she was signing up for. “I’ll do it.”
Jason grinned. “That’s the kind of enthusiasm that will see you heavily rewarded around here.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s resume eating!”
Ellie dug back into her peach pie, eager for the work she would be doing the next day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I don’t want anyone bothering me for at least eight hours,” Marcy said as they stepped into their hotel room.
To call it a hotel room would be a bit of an understatement. It was the topmost suite at the most luxurious hotel Manhattan had to offer. It had four bedrooms, a kitchen, two living rooms, and a bowling alley.
“You are certain you can afford this, ma’am?” Herschel asked uncertainly.
“Of course I am,” Melody snapped, suppressing a yawn. “And I’m also not letting jet lag get the best of me. All of you, we’re going out now.”
Marcy responded by slamming her bedroom door shut. A moment later, the sound of curtains being drawn filled the living room.
“I’m down to go out,” Dylan said.
Melody looked at Herschel. He looked like he was about to fall over.
“Please, Herschel. You stayed awake on the whole flight over here. Go to bed.”
He yawned, his hand flying up to his mouth to block the movement of his jaws. “I must remain by your side.”
Melody looked at Dylan. “You think anyone is going to mess with me with this guy walking around? He’s a boxer. Look at him. Six feet three inches of pure muscle.”
Herschel’s eyes darted to the bedroom on the right. It had a gorgeous king-sized bed with fresh white linens covering it. “Don’t be long, and wake me when you get back in, alright?”
Melody kissed him on the cheek and picked up her purse. “Alright, Dylan. Let’s hit the town.”
Melody had looked up a dozen places to visit; first on her list was Joe’s, a pizza place renowned for its slices of New York-style pizza that were only a couple of dollars apiece. She could feel her stomach rumbling as she punched in the address on her phone.
“We’re taking the subway,” she said adamantly.
Dylan looked surprised. “You sure?”
“Of course I am,” she said, smiling. “This is my trip, and we do things my way.”
“We tend to do things your way even if it isn’t your trip,” Dylan pointed out with a good-natured smile on his face. “Case in point: we’re all supposed to be in Paris right now.”
Melody rolled her eyes. “You love going along with my plans. Just admit it.”
They walked down the dirty steps of the subway, past a group of musicians playing instruments, and onto the platform. Melody was bouncing up and down in her Converse sneakers. The smells of the city filled her nose, some of them not entirely pleasant. But she could feel the excitement of this place pulsing through her very bones. This was exactly where she was intended to be.
Twenty minutes later, they had their slices and were standing in the front of the tiny pizza shop.
“Trouble at home?” Dylan asked through a mouthful of dough, cheese, and pepperoni.
“What?”
Dylan swallowed and wiped his mouth with a thin, cheap paper napkin. “You must be having trouble at home. There’s no way you would have swept us all off on this grand adventure if there wasn’t something you were running away from. You always do this, Melody.”
Melody sighed. “My mother thinks it’s time for me to start shadowing her duties.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Ah. I see. So, you’re feeling trapped, like the walls of your gilded cage are coming to rest around you.”
Melody balled up her napkin and tossed it in the trash can. “I’m getting three more slices. You want some?” She wasn’t interested in Dylan’s probing questions; they cut too close to the truth.
She didn’t want to be a princess, not at all.
But she saw no way out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Someone clanged a loud bell as they walked up and down the hallways of the Block.
Ellie groaned and rolled over, pulling her pillow over her ears. She just wanted five more minutes of sleep. It was Sunday, after all. Sundays were for sleeping in. That was when she remembered where she was.
Suddenly, she was excited to get up and get going.
She splashed her face with water using the tiny sink, and pulled on a pair of jeans, dirty white Converse, and a t-shirt. She stepped outside and ran right into Constance.
“Hey,” Constance said with a smile. “You ready for your first farmer’s market?”
Ellie suppressed a yawn and stretched her arms over her head. “Of course I am.”
“Good,” Constance said. “Jason likes it when people are appropriately excited.”
“What about inappropriately excited?” Ellie asked as they walked down the narrow switchback staircase, more people joining them as they made their way downstairs.
“What?”
“You said appropriately excited. Does he not like inappropriate excitement?”
Constance grinned. “He can be a little over the top sometimes. You’ll see.”
Ellie didn’t have time to ponder these words. They had arrived in the dining room, the air thick with the smell of maple brown sugar oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and thick slabs of bacon.
“Take a plate, fill it up once, eat it, then get a move on to greenhouse one,” Velia called out. She looked positively chipper; she was clearly a morning person.
“Morning, Velia,” Ellie said.
Velia looked up from her clipboard to see who was telling her hello. “Oh, Ellie. Hey. Good first night’s sleep?”
Ellie nodded.
“Good, because you’re going to need it.”
Ellie ate her breakfast as quickly as she could, hopping up to free up her space at the table, which was taken instantly by a tall guy with a puff of curly hair.
Constance waved her over to the door. “This way to greenhouse one.”
Ellie followed her out of the door into an alleyway. The city was waking up around them, even though it was still dark. The building next to theirs was solid red brick and looked industrial by the tall, plate glass windows. Constance took out a keycard and swiped it, and a metal door clicked open.
“I knew I’d forget something,” Ellie said. “My keycard.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Constance said. “Hardly anyone keeps track of these things.” She paused. “Just don’t let Jason see you without one.”
They stepped inside and Ellie realized they were inside a stairwell. They climbed the stairs two at a time, hearing voices echoing from above them. Ellie was panting by the time they reached the top landing. Constance swiped her card once more and held the door open for Ellie.
She was on the rooftop, the late summer air blowing around her, flicking her hair into her face. The city lights around her illuminated the scene in front of her. A hundred raised beds overflowing with lush greenery were placed in neat rows. Tomato vines stretched to the heavens, snap pea bushes hung heavy with their harvest, and strawberry plants were staked upright, shiny red berries looking temptingly delicious.
“So, what do you think?” Constance asked.
“Wow,” Ellie replied. “Just wow.”
“Wait until you see the greenhouse,” Constance said. She pointed ahead of them. “It’s more of a hoop house, really. No walls. It’s where we grow the cut flowers. They go like hotcakes on Sunday mornings.”
Ellie felt like the next few hours went by in the blink of an eye. Constance showed her how to harvest roses, calla lilies, mokara orchids, freesia, ornithogalum, and blushing bride. She worked alongside a woman from Kansas who had been staying at the Bl
ock for the last six months. She was chatty, and Ellie let her words wash over her while she stayed in her own little heaven, holding fragrant blooms in both hands.
“Alright, we need more people at the carrot washing station!” Velia called out as the sun began to peek between the skyscrapers surrounding them.
Ellie spent a half an hour using an industrial sprayer to get the fresh soil off the knobbly, misshapen carrots. It was all she could do to not take a bite of one of them.
Before she knew it, they were loading up several slab-sided white vans with produce and blooms. She piled into a passenger van with a dozen other people, and off they went through the slow-moving New York City traffic.
In a whirlwind of activity, they arrived at a lush, green park where other farmers were setting up white tents to protect their wares from the rising sun. It took the better part of an hour to get their two tents set up. Ellie took special care in arranging the flower display, and parked herself at one of the cash boxes, ready for the day’s work.
She hadn’t felt so alive in years.
The air was rich with anticipation. Ellie knew that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
CHAPTER NINE
Melody woke up on Sunday morning before the rest of the hotel suite. She pulled on sunglasses and a sundress, doffed a denim jacket, and grabbed her purse. She was nearly out of the hotel room when she realized how much Herschel, who had been asleep since early yesterday afternoon, would panic realizing she was gone.
Melody grabbed a pad of hotel stationery and a cheap pen, scribbled a note, and left the suite, being careful to close the door as quietly as possible behind her.
The city was alive with activity as she wandered through the crowds. She relished the anonymity. No one knew her here. It wasn’t like at home, when they had to shut down businesses for her to leave the house. It wasn’t long before her stomach was rumbling with hunger.
As if it were a sign from the heavens, she saw a sandwich board reading “Sunday Farmer’s Market” with an arrow pointing right. Attending farmer’s markets was always the sort of thing Melody wanted to do back home, but never could. It caused too much of a commotion and the farmers inevitably complained that she was distracting the customers from business.
