Free Pepper

Chapter 9

I woke up the following morning believing that something just wasn't right. I had been in bed sleeping until something cold tapped my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open and as I rubbed them, I yawned and pushed my sheets away. I sat with my back turned to the front door and stretched my limbs. "Ahem."

I froze.

I slowly turned around, 'eeked!', and hid under my covers. Mr. Snatcher turned on my lamp, pinched my blankets, and lifted them, revealing my face. "M-m-my alarm hasn't gone off." He glanced at the clock and watched it tick for a second or two. "Did you forget to set it?" he replied, peeling my bed sheets.

"It looks like it," I muttered. He took my clock, showed me the time, and put it in my drawer. It was about 9:30 in the morning. "It was for the better. I had an errand to run so I let you sleep in. Thoughtful of me, ain't it?" I sighed in relief, smiled, and nodded a little. I watched him until he closed my drawer, fully aware that he'd seen my bag full of money and cheese. I widened my eyes when I noticed some stubble on his face. He eventually took a glance at me. "What? No good morning? No thank you?" "Oh! Good morning! Thank you for letting me sleep in." He placed his hand on my head and smiled. "And good morning to you...I wanted to wake you myself. I've got a couple of things for you." He turned around, and I wouldn't dare move. He handed me a list firstly. "You may look at this on your own time." Secondly, he gave me a long unwrapped rectangular box; a boxtroll wouldn't have worn it because it was in two pieces, the lid and the actual container, all bound by string. If anything, it looked like the kind that would hold clothing, and of that, I had a realization.
"Is this for me?" I asked pointing to myself.

"Open it." My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. I took the string into my fingers and tried to undo the knot. The string was thin but incredibly tight. Using my thumbs to play with it, I heard the light tapping of Mr. Snatcher's fingers, the man giving an impatient groan soon enough before he snatched the box and cut the string himself. "Here." He gave it back to me and watched me open it and I stared in silence at what I found.

A blood red dress with mid-length sleeves surprised me, despite my assumption that it really was clothing. I didn't know these terms at the time, but if I did, I'd have described it as one with a jewel shaped neckline, a knee length skirt and a buttoned down back. The elbow and wrists of the sleeves, and the small subtle ruffle near the base of the skirt was a lighter, rosy red color, and the collar, low waistline, and thin, stitched in petticoat were white. The latter was slightly longer than the skirt but only by a centimeter or two, making its white fabric a little visible to the naked eye. With the dress came a pair of gray stockings, a pair of white embroidery to tighten them with, a circular blood red colored hat, short and flat like a straw hat but clearly made of felt, with that same rosy red color wrapped around the lower half of the crown in the form of a ribbon tied in a bow on the back of the hat, and finally, a blood red hair bow and black buckled shoes.

I rose to my knees and wrapped my arms around his own arm and hummed with a smile. "Thank you, sir! They're all beautiful! I can't wait to wear them!" The arm I took bent in repulsion and I could tell from the curls of his fingers. His free hand took my shoulder and jerked himself from me, allowing strands of hair to fall from his face.

"Of course, Pepper darling," he replied in an almost disgusted demeanor. I could tell by the way he took my shoulders and lightly pushed me back down onto the bed. I smiled at him as he took my clothing, pulled out a hanger from my closet and hung it over the rail. "The Fortunate Favorite of an Esteemed Gentleman shouldn't go without at the very least something proper to wear. I recommend looking at the list first before you putting on your apparel; don't want it getting messy. Now, if you'll excuse me: I'm off to retire for the morning, but..." He spun around rather gracefully making my shift in my spot. "It would be simply splendid if you accompanied me on a little outing today. Say, 4 o'clock?" He asked, taking my hand.

"An outing? You mean...we're going somewhere...other than here?" He chuckled at me, making me seal my lips shut in a twinge of fear mixed with nervousness. "If you complete every task on the list, of course you may come. Nothing too difficult, even for you." I parted my lips to respond, but he yawned and turned around. "I shall see you at 4, and please be ready by then. Dress and all."

"I will." I nodded with a smile.

...

Downstairs Only!

1. Sweep the floor

2. Mop the floor

3. Dust the furniture

The list didn't sound too hard. I put on an older, brown pair of trousers and men's shirt so that I wouldn't risk ruining my new clothes. I opened the closet Mr. Pickles had shown me the day before and I mostly just stared at them. I never really did a great deal of cleaning back in London. I mostly just ran around the city looking for things to do, but I did know a few tips about the subject. I knew that sweeping came before mopping. Taking the broom and dustpan into my hands I stopped and looked at the floor first and foremost, and my heart sank. "...shoot..." I thought. I'd completely forgotten the fact that the downstairs of the factory was obviously the largest area in the entire building. How could I have overlooked that while reading that blasted list?

"It's alright, Pepper. You can do this," I said to myself. I started at the corner by the closet and brushed the broom to the floor. Sweeping from left to right like a pencil on paper, I kept an eye on each little cluster of dust I found, grouping it all together into two or three piles. From corner to corner, and centimeter to centimeter, the broom searched and gathered, through the kitchen area, below the stair case, around the levers that controls the hanging cages, and anything else I could find. Amidst the sneezing and wheezing from all the dust, I couldn't stop; not until everything looked perfect. Two hours of sweeping, another two of mopping, and thankfully dusting only took one hour (at least that's how it turned out no thanks to the slippery floor). After a thirty minute inspection over everything I had cleaned, I smiled and wiped the sweat from my brow. I excitedly rushed up the steps and back to my room to clean up.

My stomach rumbled and gave me the idea to pull out the gouda I'd started the other day. Pulling out my bag and opening it, I'd expected to see that and the money Genevieve gave me. Thinking of her made me frown. My only friend up until I'd met Leona, Bryan, Abigail, James, and Skyla, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever see her again. My Cheesebridge friends were one thing, but Genevieve was another. Opening the bag and searching around, my stomach performed a back flip. My money was gone. All of my pound notes had completely vanished. I searched frantically for it was all I could was the gouda I put to the side. I shuddered at the complete emptiness of my bag. My gift from Genevieve had been taken. My lip quivered and I put my arm to my eyes, because I could feel them grow misty with emotion. I tried my hardest to bite them back. Besides, I figured that I didn't have much time left before I'd have to be downstairs in my brand new outfit.

The gouda I'd bought beforehand still smelled and even tasted alright. The rest of that had to be my lunch as my bathtub filled up with water. I stared out the window as I nibbled my cheese; the sky was pretty cloudy for a summer day. "I hope it doesn't rain," I whispered to myself. I looked up at the clouds, smiling at an image I had in my head of a group of white clouds and a group of gray clouds colliding with each other in a great big battle. Brighter clouds hitting dimmer clouds with their swords and shields in hopes of determining whether the latter would let it rain or the former would keep the sun shining. My elbow slipped from the window sill, causing to slip back into reality. I washed myself in the bathtub, making sure that I scrubbed deep. If I was going to walk around in my special dress and shoes, I might as clean myself up.

Feeling fresh in a new pair of jockey shorts I found in another drawer, I pinched the dress by its shoulders and looked at it. It felt soft, making me hug it tightly. Traveling between London and Cheesebridge and I felt a little excited at finally having my very own special outfit. After tying my hair in a low ponytail, I pulled the stockings over my legs, fastening them right below my shorts (if the ladies in London could do it, surely I could), unbuttoned the dress and slipped it over me. Fitting my arms through the sleeves, I fastened every button and pulled my long hair out from under the dress. The last thing to add was my hat: my Red Hat. I shuddered from realization, but there was no use in complaining. Mr. Snatcher never did seem like the kind of man who tolerated complainers.

I stood before the mirror and stared. I alternated from smiles to frowns. On one hand, I felt beautiful. "If the girls back home could see me now," I thought. But forgive the repetition, but why did it have to be Archibald Snatcher? The dress fitted me pretty well and the flowing skirt made me twirl around, and I felt as if I was flying through the air, with the snobs I'd seen in both towns far below me. But in my fantasy, I could see red tinted clouds forming into a lightening storm. Whenever I would remind myself that it was him who made this possible, it was like a deadly strike that would burn me up and pull me to the ground.

I couldn't stay up in the sky for very long though. I pulled my clock out of my drawer and looked at it. It was almost a quarter to four. I stared at my bedroom door and warily turned the knob.

I looked out one of the windows while I waited for him downstairs. The sky was still a little overcast but I wasn't too worried about that anymore. I was far too focused on the outing ahead. I almost couldn't believe it. Mr. Snatcher and I out in the open; what will people think? Where would we go? What would we go?

Clack, clack, clack

If only I'd had the time to guess. I turned around at the sound of footsteps, and stood up straight and tall.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"And good afternoon to you as well," he said this in an almost bewildered tone; the kind a man might give to an exceptionally lovely woman. Within a minute of seeing him, I noticed something a little different about him.
"Why are you carrying a stick?" I asked. Mr. Snatcher came down the stairs with one hand on the rail and a walking cane in the other. I'd seen men in London walk with them, and even then I would wonder why they would carry them if they had no obvious walking problems. The cane was long and silver, but the knob itself was shaped like triangular piece of golden cheese. "I'll have you know, child, that this is a family heirloom. This walking cane has been in my family since the days of Aloysius Snatcher! Perfect for running errands before work." "But what's it for, sir?" He gave me an annoyed look.

"Didn't you ever see men walk about with their own canes in London?"
"Well, yes, but I always thought they just had problems walking."
"Some do, but I certainly don't," he replied with a scoff and a hand gesture pressing lightly to his vest. "For those esteemed few such as myself, it sets us apart from our peers; an indicator of gentlemanly behavior."
"Do you ever use it for work?" His eyebrow twitched.
"Pepper, did you not hear me? I use it for errands!" He jabbed the knob into my chest as he said that last word. "Ow!" "I wouldn't dream of risking the loss of this precious item to a horde of disgusting monsters! For God's sake, girl, pay attention!" "...S-sorry..."
Mr. Snatcher had given me an ugly look while I rubbed my chest and swiped at my dress, making sure it was still devoid of any dust. He tapped his finger to his lip, probably thinking. "And while you're at it, spin around," he said twirling his cane about. I closed my eyes and turned quickly. "Not too fast, you daft girl. Just enough to let me look at you." I turned much more slowly and nibbled on my lip. "Don't ruin this," I thought to myself.

"How do I look?" I asked curiously.
"Hmm...proper," he bluntly stated with a grin. "You can go anywhere now. I just knew I picked a grand look for you."

"Yes, thank you." I smiled but not at him. My head was pointing downward as I showed him my appearance. "Alright, alright, stop turning," he said in an annoyed tone. "Y-yes, of course," I practically jumped up straight and tall and fixed my dress just in case. He walked past me and pulled out the ring of keys. I could feel chills of excitement as he unlocked the door. I approached him but before I could say or do anything else, he spun around and put his palm to my chest. "Don't move." He turned back around and turned the key in its lock. His pushed open the door and stepped out. Once his feet were planted firmly outside and he beckoned me with his finger, a little spark of excitement charged me right outside into the fresh air.

The warmth of summer made me exhale a great deal of air and turn my head all around to look at the river on my right and the town on my left. The buzz of the summer bugs and light breeze on my face made me look up at the sky, hold my hat so that it wouldn't fall as I tilted my head to reach for it. I vocalized my happiness in seeing this missed picture of nature I wanted so badly to return to just the other day, completely forgetting that I wasn't alone. When the sight of the hills surrounding Cheesebridge caught my attention, I had a feeling about what I truly wanted to do. "Wow..." I whispered.

"Now's your chance." I heard myself say in my head. "Run as fast as you can. Don't look back. If he catches you, you will never be free."

"You must be very excited." My smile quickly disappeared and I turned around to see Mr. Snatcher tucking the keys away into an inner pocket in front of a presumedly locked door. I blushed a little in embarrassment. "I like being outside, sir. I miss it."
Mr. Snatcher took my hand and pulled me aside so that he can bend over to straighten my hat, which had fallen crooked from all the excitement. "Well, if you behave, you just might have another opportunity."
"Really?!" I asked, with an almost uncontrollable jump.
"Yes, yes, now calm down," he replied grasping my shoulders tightly enough to put my back against the wall. "I-I can be calm..." I replied in a softer voice, blushing up.
"Are you completely under control?" He asked seriously. I quickly nodded. Mr. Snatcher pulled out his watch and clicked it open. "Then, we must be off." He took my hand, held it tightly and we both walked away into town.

"Now my dear Pepper, if you're going to behave like a civilized girl, we must establish some rules for our little outings. For one, you shall always remain by my side. You know how I feel about you running off." His grip tightened. "For two, while I take your hand as we walk, you shall keep your other hand to yourself. This applies to all circumstances unless I allow it. For three, when speaking to other members of our society, you shall be pleasant and respectful, using 'sir' to men as you do with me, and 'Ma'am' or 'Miss' towards women, as I'd done with you. And please no raising of the voice or foul language. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Snatcher," I replied. I unexpectedly squeaked when he took my cheek to make me look at him.
"And let's keep the details of your time with me to ourselves, shall we? Out in public is no place for discussing such personal matters. And well behaved ladies wouldn't dream of breaking any of these rules, lest they be regarded as 'pests' by certain individuals and be treated as such." He showed me his ring of keys, forcing me to swallow a lump in my throat, and nod.

So in other words, don't walk away from Mr. Snatcher, don't touch a thing, be polite, and don't talk about being taken and caged.

"Yes, sir."

His demeanor made me feel as though these tasks were impossible. One little mistake and it could be back to the cage, because apparently that's where uncivilized pests belonged.

As Curd's Way turned into Milk Street, I could feel butterflies flutter inside my stomach. I hadn't been in town very long by this point, and I could feel a growing sense of self-consciousness at the idea of people seeing me. At first, I couldn't wait to show people how pretty I looked in the clothes I'd always wanted, but now that some would surely see, the idea of Mr. Snatcher walking beside me and keeping a tight hand on me made me blush. What would these snobby folks think? It was hard to tell.

Walking up Milk Street made me heave up and down from a lack of experience treading a hill as steep of Cheesebridge. London was flat and smelled like fish. This town was elevated and smelled like cheese. Opposites, if I'd ever seen them. But I wouldn't dare say a word about it. Mr. Snatcher didn't seem as though he even wanted to talk. He appeared to be in a happy enough mood when we came across a couple walking by. A middle class looking woman with her arm linked around a man was given a 'good afternoon' by Mr. Snatcher. The couple, who looked kindly enough, almost immediately noticed me. I waved to them and though they waved back, they looked confuse, if not a little shocked; not that I blamed them or anything

His cane made a 'tapping' sound as it touched the ground with each step he took. With his fancy, family owned accessory, his rings, tall hat, and velvet coat topped with a fur collar, I'd never seen a more impressive looking man, and I felt very intimidated.

I looked up at him as we walked and analyzed his fallen strands of hair. If those had been pulled back as well and his stubble removed, he would've looked even more impressive, but then there was that air about him; the one I'd always felt about him and consumed me with dread. Dignified and gentlemanly on top but downright scary underneath it all. He looked down at me, making me throw my head down, my self conscious blush still on my cheeks.
"It's not polite to stare," he drawled. "I know. I'm sorry." He sighed almost in an almost pitiful 'you silly girl' sort of way.
"You say that word so often."
"What word, sir?"
"'Sorry'. 'I'm sorry' this. 'I'm sorry' that. It's become annoying and repetitive. Sometimes a 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' is all that needs to be said."
"Oh, I see. I'm so-oh! I mean, yes, sir." He rolled his eyes. "How do I know when to say 'sorry'?"
"I shall make it evident for you. You still have a lot to learn about good behavior."
"I'm trying as hard as I can, sir."
"Well, don't try too hard. I don't want to hear complaining over a headache..." He looked back forward, at which I looked down, sporting a glare at him.
"I saw that."
I went wide eyed and slapped my hands to my face, covering it in embarrassment. I heard him chuckle but I dared not react to it.
"...Ahh, here we are!"

Before I could answer my own question, I looked up to find that we'd arrived at a shop. At the front door was stood a long cylinder spiraling red, white, and blue.

"A barber shop?" I asked him.
"I had an appointment today, and I certainly wasn't about to leave you at the factory alone. Come home to find you wandering about my factory poking your nose into my personal business? Goodness no."

I gave her a slightly defiant looked as he turned his head away from him and followed him inside. If he insulted me one more time...

"...oh wait. I can't do anything, can I?"

"Pepper?"

A different voice made my stomach do a backflip. Mr. Snatcher had approached a man who was inside the shop, the barber I assumed, and I turned around almost sporadically. The voice sounded high pitch, yet male, as if coming from a very young boy. And lo and behold, upon turning, who did I find but the handsome redhead James Goudman, standing on the opposite side of the street all by himself, looking more surprised than anything else?

I hurried to the entrance of the barber shop, beaming at him and embracing the good kind of butterflies inside me because Mr. Snatcher never said I couldn't wave. Standing on the tips of my toes, I straightened my dress, hat, and stockings, and waved left and right, making it big and joyful-looking on purpose.
"Pepper, what happened to you?" I pulled down my dress in modesty as my blush turned into that of flattery. I even twirled to give him a full view of my look. He didn't seem to notice that; his face still spelled bewilderment, by I didn't care. My heart fluttered at just his presence alone.
"Where'd you get the..." He had put his hands to his mouth to increase his volume but his hands dropped and his face turned fearful. His frightened look confused me. I wanted to ask what the matter was, but then I remembered that I couldn't raise my voice. He backed away into the shop right behind him, and though I reached out my hand, longing to say something, someone spoke for me.
"You go on home, boy. She hasn't the time to chat with you. Go on! Go!" James ran down the sidewalk and I stared hopelessly until he vanished from view. My cheeks reddened in anger, but I couldn't let him see it. He almost crushed my wrist in his hand when he pulled me back into the barber shop. Though his face looked pleasant, his tightening grip made me wince in pain.

"I'm awfully sorry about that, Mr. Crabs. When she's not being shy, she's being quite absent minded," Mr. Snatcher explained to a tall man with a large nose and ears. This man with his larger facial features was somewhere in the middle between Mr. Pickles and Mr. Snatcher; Not as lean as the former, but certainly nowhere near as thick as the latter.
"Oh, so she is yours?"

Unfortunately.

"Why yes, she is! I found the poor thing living inside a barrel of all places the other night. All alone, no place to go, hungry, tired, vulnerable to those box pests: she was a sad little sight. As most are aware, it would've been against my ethics to leave such an innocent child at the mercy of monsters," he explained grandly, the knob of his cane pointing to his torso to emphasize. "...so I felt it was my personal responsibility to take her in, and raise her properly; help her become someone of value. All it took were some negotiations. Mr. Crabs, meet Miss Pepper Snatcher."

"I see. Well, that is just wonderful, sir!" I pondered over this man's strangely cheerful nature. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Snatcher!" The barber replied offering his hand. I reluctantly took it, and he kissed it, leaving me a little surprised.
"Hello, Mr. Crabs sir, " I replied courteously. It was a little hard to, no thanks to the shaking at my knees.
"So you're a family man now, sir? You've never seemed like the type," Mr. Crabs asked as they walked down the hallway together, with me close behind.
"Beforehand, no. But these are desperate times for certain individuals, sir," Mr. Snatcher replied placing his hand on the top of my head, and glancing at me. I smiled nervously but I doubted that he believed it.
"Desperate measures are called for, it seems. Besides, the young lady makes a wonderful companion."
"I do?" I asked aloud. He gave me a convincing and I nodded. "I-I do! Thank you, Mr. Snatcher."
Mr. Crabs looked back at me, causing Mr. Snatcher to touch me with the end tip of his cane.
"Oh, you're still on last name terms, Miss?" The three of us eventually made it to a spacious room where there sat a barber's chair with a stand holding a tray of what I assumed were barber supplies. The room had a vast window and a spare set of chairs in front of it. I opened my mouth to say something.
"Oh-ho, you must forgive her, my friend," Mr. Snatcher interjected. My mouth closed in disappointment. "The dear child is still readjusting to her new life as a fortunate young lady. Precious girl had no last name before we met. But I soon remedied that." Before sitting down, he took my shoulder, grabbing my attention and showed me his cane again. "Hold onto it for me while I shave, will you?" I reached for it, but he held it back. "And try not to break it," he said with a hint of a threat. "Oh no, sir." He took my hands and positioned them on the stick itself, turned me around, and subtly pushed me away, as he took his place in the chair. "You're welcomed to have a seat in the chairs, Miss Snatcher. This might be awhile."
"Thank you."

Mr. Snatcher waved me away, causing Mr. Crabs to turn and begin work.
"The usual, sir?"
"Yes, clean shaven, but only shorten the sides. I've grown fond of them but keep them for too long and I'll start to look ill kept."
"Of course, sir. Understandable."

As I sat in the chair, I watched Mr. Crabs mix a shaving brush into a tiny container, creating a lather inside it. After he started brushing the lather onto Mr. Snatcher's face, I rested my head on the palm of my hand and sighed, while my eyes traveled to the wooden floor.
"Sit up straight and tall, Pepper. Don't be a slob," he said. My head lifted as he spoke with that usual judgmental look on his face. Sitting up straight, I focused my attention back on the clouds. "Umm, may I turn the chair around and look outside?"
"I suppose so," he replied, keeping still while Mr. Crabs shaved his face.

One might think that watching a barber shave the face of Mr. Snatcher himself of all people would at least be a little interesting, but to me, it felt like a void of boredom except for the sounds of a blade running up and down the man's face. There was no music, no color in the room, and no conversation starters for me. It was mostly just Mr. Crabs saying 'yes' and 'of course' to Mr. Snatcher's ramblings about work and the people he didn't like.
I turned my head towards the window with his cane still in my hands, and now resting on my lap. I looked down and watched some of the townsfolk pass by. A variety of people ranging in ages and assumedly classes based on their appearances alone made the town seem much more alive, and I smiled at the idea of being one of them.
I recollected a thought I'd had the other day about leaving Cheesebridge and coming back a grown woman, unrecognizable by the Red Hats. Grown into grace and beauty, I imagined being greeted in gentlemanly and ladylike ways by all who met me. I would reintroduce myself as someone different than who I was at that moment. Not 'Pepper Snatcher' but a new Pepper, a stunning Pepper who could make friends with anyone I wanted to; picnics in the daytime and parties in the nighttime (if the Boxtrolls are gone by then of course). I sighed at my fantasy.

But then I frowned because that's what it was: a fantasy. The reality of the matter was that I was Pepper Snatcher, not of my choosing but of the choosing of a man, whose demeaning comments were making me feel worse and worse with each new word spoken.

The thought of it put a scowl on my face. Just because Mr. Snatcher was an important member of this society didn't mean that he had the right to belittle me...right?

I turned back to Mr. Snatcher, his face now clean and smooth, and Mr. Crabs. The latter was delicately snipping Mr. Snatcher's sideburns with a silver pair scissors, careful so as to avoid making a mistake. With a sweep of the shoulders from a brush different from the lathering tool from before, Mr. Crabs held up a mirror for Mr. Snatcher to look at his work.
"Satisfactory, sir?"
"Hmm...as usual." He gave Mr. Crabs two silver coins and stood up from the chair. Brushing his shoulders and pushing his hair behind his ear with his hands, we made eye contact.

"Come, Pepper. We're leaving."