Butler's Apprentice(On hold)

Chapter Two--Searching

Amber, in her new-found identity as Ambrose Misfield, set out wearing her father's old clothes she'd kept after he had died. She'd just had to alter the size with her sewing kit. She wore a newsboy cap pulled down over her hair as she walked down the busy London street. She walked with a bit of a swagger and larger steps than usual, since this was how she supposed boys walked. Today, she was confident she would finally land herself a job with enough pay to get her and Johnny plenty of food. Maybe she could even surprise him with a bar of chocolate. That though put a smile on her face.

Amber pushed the brim of her cap back with her thumb and caught a group of girls huddled outside a show staring at her. They saw they were caught looking and turned away, giggling, hands covering their mouths. Amber was surprised. Did she make a better boy than girl? Or did they just think she was a pretty boy?

She noticed one of the girls was still staring at her, so she smiled and waved at her, throwing her a wink. The girl squeaked and blushed, ducking her head. Amber chuckled and continued off down the street. She could get used to this. It was more attention than she'd gotten as a girl.

Through the course of the day, Amber stopped at shops and business to see if thet were hiring. None of them were. Either that or they didn't want some "urchin" reeking up their stores. Amber took great offense at that thought, though she knew she wasn't the most beautiful smelling person in the world. Certainly not. But it still stung.

Just as Amber was getting discourage again and beginning to think her plan had failed, she stumbled upon the docks. She spotted a gruff man with a grey beard yelling loudly at a young man, who was cowering under the older man's harsh finger-shaking and word thrashing. The man certainly sounded angry at him. With one last angry bellow, the older man, waved the boy away. He quickly scrambled away, disappearing down a street leading away from the harbor.

Maybe he'd been fired! Amber thought hopefully. She quickened her pace and approached the man.

"Ah, excuse me, sir, but are you, perchance, looking for a hand of help?" She asked in her altered boy's voice. She hoped it didn't sound fake. The man turned on her, his nostrils still flared in anger, his hands planted on his hips. He gazed her up and down.

"Maybe, why?" He asked gruffly. Amber forced herself not to flinch at the sharpness with which he spoke. He's just still angry, she reminded herself.

"I'm looking for work, sir." The man scanned her body again. He grunted.

" I s'pose you'll hafta do. I'm Derick. You?" Derick said 'you' more like a command.

"Ambe- er, Ambrose Misfield, sir." I replied, hurriedly correcting myself.

"No need for last names 'round here, boy." He snapped. He jerked his head behind him. "Can ye lift a box?" I nodded eagerly.

"Oh, yes sir!" Derick surprised me and gave one barking chuckle. "When do I start work?"

"Can ye start now?"

" Yes, sir!"