“She’s all I have,” the girl pleaded. Tears streaked her dirty face.
“Too bad,” another trooper replied. He reached down and grabbed the tooka cat by the scruff of its neck. The creature screeched and the little girl wailed.
“Please! Please!” she cried, reaching out toward the animal.
No one in the crowd made a move to help her.
“Give her back!”
The girl stumbled against the pyramid of teakettles, knocking them over with a clatter.
Rage boiled up in Jyn, and suddenly, without thinking, she pitched the meiloorun at the stormtrooper holding the cat. The fruit splattered orange against his pristine white helmet. A gasp rose from the crowd. The trooper wheeled around.
“Who threw that?”
Jyn stood up straight, eyes boring into his blank mask of a face.
“I did,” she snarled. “And I suggest you pick on someone your own size.”
A tiny voice deep inside her told her—again—to step away.
Mind your own business. Keep your head down. Look out for yourself and no one else.
But she couldn’t stop. Something about the little girl’s tangled hair, her smudged face…She was alone. That much was clear. Jyn knew what that felt like—to be small and alone in the world.
The troopers ran toward Jyn, their footsteps pounding the hard-packed earth. Jyn tensed, waiting. The fruit-splattered trooper grabbed for her. Just as he leaned forward, she launched herself at him, kicking him hard in the gut.
“There you go!” she shouted.
The force of the kick sent him stumbling backward into the trooper behind him. They went down in a tangle of white-plated arms and legs, smashing into the counter of a stall selling bolts of fabric and bringing piles of striped cloth tumbling down around them.
The crowd scattered, sensing big trouble. Jyn flashed an okay sign to the little girl and without waiting for the troopers to heave themselves up, slid behind the sparkly silk of a merchant’s tent.
“No, not here!” the merchant said with alarm, looking up from his workbench.
“I don’t want any trouble in here—you take your fight somewhere else, girl.”
Jyn barely heard him.
“Just for a minute,” she panted, flattening herself against the silken wall and peering around the flap.
The two other troopers ran toward the tent. One still clutched the terrified tooka cat by the neck. The animal’s desperate yowls were almost lost in the sound of the troopers’ heavy footsteps.
Jyn grabbed a pole leaning against the tent and waited, tense. Her breath whistled in her ears. The red-and-yellow silk of the tent wall in front of her glowed like sunlight and the sounds of the market disappeared until she could hear only her own breath and the footsteps of the troopers, feel only her sweaty hands on the pole and the thud of her pulse in her palms.
The troopers ran toward the tent entrance. Jyn knelt and quickly thrust the pole out at knee level. Both troopers hit it at the same time, flipping forward onto their faces. They grunted and dust flew from the ground. The cat leapt free and took off through the market.
Jyn dropped the pole with a clatter and stepped out from behind the tent flap.
“And you’re welcome!” she shouted at the troopers, who were scrambling to their feet.
“Grab her!” one yelled.
Jyn sprinted off in the direction the cat had run. Shoppers dodged out of her way as she glimpsed the tip of its purple tail, then lost it as it disappeared under a sausage vendor’s grill.
The glowing coals of the hanging grill gave Jyn an idea. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. The troopers weren’t far behind. Panting, Jyn scrambled atop a nearby metal barrel and—ignoring the shouts as the troopers spotted her—leapt behind the grill. The vendor stared at her wide-eyed, a long-handled fork topped with sausage in his hand.
“Hello,” Jyn told him. “Sorry about all this.”
The shouts of the troopers were close now. Jyn scanned the stall fast. There! A rubber hose attached to the stall’s water pipe. Jyn grabbed the hose and tried to turn the tap handle. Stuck! The thing was stuck!
Come on, come on!
The troopers were almost on her. The handle would not turn. Suddenly, a squirt of something black splashed onto the handle—oil!
Jyn looked up into the face of the big sausage vendor. A canister of oil dangled from one hand.
“Good luck, girl,” he whispered, and backed away as Jyn tried the handle again.
This time it turned!
She cranked the faucet open, then grabbed the hose, aiming it at the grill and spraying water full blast on the hot coals. Steam and smoke billowed out in a great white cloud, surrounding the vendor, the stall, the troopers. Something small and dark yowled and leapt from the steam—the tooka cat!
Jyn wasted no time. She ducked under the grill, flew past the blinded troopers, and darted after the cat, weaving through the stalls and alleyways. The creature ran along a wall above her head. The market was behind them now; the alley was deserted. If only she could catch that cat! As she ran, listening hard for the troopers’ heavy footsteps behind her, Jyn cursed herself for landing in another stupid situation. Why did she draw trouble to herself instead of avoiding attention? As if she needed troopers on her tail!
For an instant, she considered giving up, ducking into one of the empty doorways she was flashing past, and getting out of Garel City for a few days, until things calmed down. Then she imagined the little girl’s crying face and her heart twisted. She knew a little something about being alone. Jyn clenched her fists and forced her legs to move faster. The tooka cat leapt through an archway at the end of the alley and Jyn flung herself after it, reaching, almost tripping on the metal grates that covered an opening beneath her feet.
Got it!
She snared the animal by a hind leg, then tucked it safely under one arm, wincing as it sunk its teeth into her thumb.
“You should be grateful, my friend,” she muttered to the furious animal.
“I don’t think those troopers were going to take you anyplace good.”
She was at a dead end—boxed in on three sides by buildings. Jyn shot a glance at the archway. Still empty—but she could hear the footsteps now—thunk, thunk, thunk—the heavy sound of running boots. The troopers. Jyn backed into a small opening set in the stone wall. It smelled like garbage. The cat meowed and Jyn squeezed its jaws shut with one hand.
Thunk-THUNK thunk-THUNK. The four troopers crowded the archway, blocking the sun.
“Where is she?” one of them asked. It was the one she’d thrown the fruit at. His helmet was still crusted with dried orange goo. Jyn hoped the cat would keep quiet. She pressed herself farther into the small opening. The troopers looked around.
“She might have gone across the bridge,” the tallest one said. “They usually do.”
“Yeah,” another one agreed. They started to back away from the archway.
Jyn exhaled, accidentally relaxing her grip on the cat’s face. As her hand released the pressure on its jaws, the animal let out a long yowl.
“Shhh!” Jyn hissed frantically.
She looked up to see four black-and-white helmets peering down at her.
“Thought you’d hide, did you?” One of the stormtroopers reached for her.
In one movement, Jyn shot through their legs and stuffed the tooka cat down her shirt. The troopers tried to grab her, but they were hampered by the small space. One bumped two others, sending them stumbling against the wall.
Thinking fast, Jyn looked down. The troopers were standing on the metal grate. Jyn yanked her blaster from its holster. Ignoring the thrashing cat inside her shirt, Jyn fired at the grate catches. The catches broke and all four troopers dropped through the opening, grunting and yelling.
Clutching the cat in her shirt, Jyn slid the blaster back into its holster and sprinted through the archway, leaving the troopers struggling to climb out of the hole.
Jyn
ran down the deserted alleyway and hooked a sharp right back into the marketplace. Only then, surrounded by the bustle of the crowd, did she stop, lean against a wall, and take a deep breath. She wiped her face with her sleeve. She needed some water—that and something else to eat, since she’d thrown her fruit at the trooper. She took the tooka cat out of her shirt. It sat quietly in the crook of her arm, resigned to its fate. Jyn stroked its head.
“I hope you’re worth all this trouble, friend,” she told the cat. “Let’s find your owner, okay?”
Jyn wandered in and out of the stalls, pausing to buy another meiloorun and watching for the little girl. She ducked out of sight as she neared the sausage vendor, who was grumpily piling soaked coals back into his grill. He probably didn’t want to see her again, even if he had helped her with that splash of oil.
Still cradling the cat, Jyn finished her fruit and circled back to the teakettle stall where she’d first seen the little girl.
The child was still there, picking up the fallen teakettles and carefully stacking them on top of each other. The kettle vendor stood over her, hands on his hips.
“That’s right, pick them all up,” he said meanly. “There’s one by the fabric stall, get that. Come on, girl, faster!”
The little girl fumbled a kettle, letting it fall with a clatter.
“Sorry,” she whispered to the vendor, grabbing it.
The vendor threw his arms up in a What’s next? gesture and stomped toward the back of his stall.
“Don’t even think about leaving until they’re all picked up,” he shot over his shoulder.
Jyn paused a moment, watching the little girl work. The child sniffled quietly and hiccupped. Jyn couldn’t wait another second. She stepped over to the girl.
“I think this is yours.”
The little girl turned around. With a mrrreoww, the tooka cat leapt out of Jyn’s arms—and straight into the girl’s.
The little girl’s face lit up with joy.
“Tookie! You’re back!” she cried.
She hugged the creature to her chest. The cat’s purring boomed like a motor. The little girl looked up at Jyn.
“You saved her. How did you do it? Who are you?”
Jyn swallowed hard and reached out to smooth back the girl’s tangled black locks, but didn’t say anything.
The little girl shifted the cat to her other arm and took Jyn’s sweaty hand. Her little fingers looked very pale and smooth against Jyn’s scarred, rough skin.
“You helped me. No one helps me.”
Jyn shifted uncomfortably, not used to someone appreciating her, for anything. She didn’t know what to say.
The little girl asked again, “Please, who are you?”
Finally Jyn knelt down and looked into the little girl’s face.
“My name’s Jyn Erso.”
The little girl stared up at Jyn. Her eyes shone blue.
“Thank you, Jyn Erso.”
A Message from Maz:
It’s almost time to go in, my friend. The moon has risen to its zenith. And we are almost out of wood. We’ve told many tales. And we have heard of heroes. Sometimes people who do small deeds can end up making a big difference. Look at all the flurrgs who have joined us. One…two…three…twenty in all. You never know when you’re going to be a hero to someone.
Listen to all their croaking! What are they saying? What’s that? Oh! I’m your hero? Well, that’s very nice.
Throw this water on the fire, dear. I love to hear the hiss. The white smoke will curl up into the sky. The light and the warmth have gone out. And it’s time for us to go to bed.
EMMA CARLSON BERNE has written many books for children and young adults, including historical fiction, sports fiction, romances, and mysteries. She writes and runs after her three little boys in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Girls Page 3
