"I don't want her," Zack barked from the porch, and spit landed on the boardwalk between me and the seller.
"Then take your spit with you," the seller said, leaning back like she could smell the money in the air.
"She's ugly," Zack added. "She'll ruin our house."
"Ugly sells cheap," Maribel said, stepping down from the cart with a coin purse in hand.
"Four," the seller said. She slapped the palm of her hand on the crate and spread out four coins. "Four dollars. No more."
"Four?" Maribel laughed. "You try to tell me a child costs four and I pay five for her broom."
"That's what she is," the seller said. "You can put her on the kitchen step and she'll chase flies."
"Put her on the kitchen step," Maribel said, smiling like she was choosing meat at market. She pulled two coins and then two more, and the crowd hummed. "Eben, fetch a blanket."
Eben moved before I could see his face. He fumbled with the blanket, cheeks red and quiet. He said, "Ma, maybe we should—"
"Shh," Maribel told him. "Let the woman speak. You'll scare the buyer."
"She's not a puppy," I said. My words slipped out small. People turned. Zack made a face.
"Who asked you?" Zack snapped.
"You did," I said. "You asked for someone to pick on."
That got a laugh. Not a good one for Zack.
The seller pushed me forward. Hands rough as
