Gran was frantically throwing various foods in pots and pans when I arrived back home. She looked frazzled, her usual neatly combed gray hair was scrunched up in a clip.

"Is there a method to your clear madness?" I asked with a smile, taking a seat at the wooden kitchen table.

From my seat, I couldn't quite decipher what Gran was concocting up in her kitchen. She was known for her pies — especially her pear pies because she had grown up making them since she was just five years old.

Secretly, I hoped she was going to make her delicious chicken noodle soup. It may have been the dead of summer, but I was always craving the creamy soup, no matter what season it was. I had long given up begging for the soup in summer, though. She'd huff that it was in not season and that she could cook so many summer recipes that she didn't want to go to waste.

"Oh, my flower, thank goodness you're here. I was about to send Pop out to our garden to bring in some cucumbers, but they're never as good as Wendy's. I've been saying for years that I think she pays one of the witches to enchant her soil. Annita thinks so too," Gran started to ramble off, scuttling over to the table to take the bag of vegetables from me. "Oh goodness, I've forgotten to give Wendy her pear pie. I'll make sure Pop brings it to her tomorrow — unless he's too busy, but I don't see what he could possibly be doing. He's been retired for five years, but somehow he's always busy. Men, I tell you. Stay away from them, Sage."

A loud chuckle was heard down the hall. "I've been telling Sage that for years, but I don't think her Pa's bedtime stories of how men are bad have been exactly working out too well."

Pa clamored into the kitchen, dirty from working at his forge. Ma used to tease him about how dirty he'd come home. She'd say some days he looked as dirty as one of those beasts on the Outside.

"Pa, you say that like I'm already engaged to be married," I shook my head. Pa was quite protective when it came to me. He'd always been protective, but once Ma disappeared — died — his watchful eye became almost unbearable. Gran had to slap some sense into him when he wouldn't allow me to go on a school picnic because he was frightened something would happen.

Gran had told Pa he was being ridiculous. The Borderlands was the safest place on this green earth. We didn't even need a police force, just a highly civilized court that dealt out justice, but we'd only ever needed the court once when Old Henry started to grow old with dementia and was stealing people's chickens.

"My little girl is turning twenty—"

"—she's not so little, Chuck." Gran liked to test the waters with Pa. She always said that Pa was a hellion growing up and that it would serve him right to have a child just as unruly as himself. Unfortunately for Gran, they got me, so Gran, in return, had been the one trying to make up for it.

"She'll still always be my little girl. I was only a couple years older than Sage was when I married her Ma," Pa moved behind me, his hands resting on the back of my chair.

Pa hardly ever spoke of Ma. At first, I thought he was truly heartbroken over her death. I'd never seen him cry, but I sure did hear him cry for the first couple of days after Ma was gone — it broke my heart.

After enough time passed, I think Pa was a little resentful of Ma. She left without a word, without a warning. Ma was taken over the Border, but why had she put herself in such a position? I think most of all, though, he resented that I had to grow up without a mother.

Pa looked like he was made of steel, but he had a heart of gold.

"Hm, I think she will marry soon. Maybe give you some karma for making me an empty nester at such a young age and leaving me all alone with Pop," Gran started to run around the kitchen, throwing spices here and there.

"So, what's on the agenda for the birthday girl tomorrow?" Pa tapped my head lightly.

"Well," I started, "I have a shift with Sandy in the morning, but then Memphis said he had something planned. I'm not sure what it is — I mean, he's probably not even sure what it is, either."

"I swear that boy is nothing but trouble, Sage," I could hear the disdain in his voice. Pa didn't like the idea of me hanging around boys, but he especially did not like the idea of me hanging around Memphis.

His family, while quite prominent in the Borderlands, was not known for being upstanding citizens. They definitely benefited from the lack of enforcement around the town.

"Pa," I warned. No matter how many times I told him Memphis was a friend — a good friend — Pa would not listen. Of course, if he heard Memphis was giving me contraband, Pa would be enraged, but Pa didn't need to know that.

I felt guilty, lying to Pa about Memphis and what we really got down to when we hung out. I shouldn't delight in something so wrong, but getting a glimpse at the Outside made the inside not feel as small.

"Oh, hush, Chuck. I know you're all in a huff about me saying Sage will be getting married, but you can't go off scaring every boy the girl encounters," Gran turned to face Pa, pointing her wooden spoon at him.

"I can try," he said shortly.

"Chuck," Gran was stern, "there is a limited number of men in this town, and I don't like the idea of my granddaughter dating a cousin like those Leroys, so you will be nice to any boy Sage brings home. I swear, I thought I was done parenting you when you became a parent yourself. I also quite like the idea of being a great-Gran. Annita would absolutely be beside herself."

Gran went back to stirring the contents of one of her pots. I was quickly munching on Gran's homemade bread left on the table. I could tell by the dwindling light that I should be heading to bed soon. I had work early in the morning, and I really didn't want to sleep in again.

"Ew! Pa!" Pa had tried to give me one of engulfing hugs, but I scooted away, not wanting to have to bathe before work since he was covered in soot. It was always such a hassle to get a bath going. "I'm going to head to bed. I don't think Sandy will take it very lightly to me being late again."

✷ ✷ ✷

"I don't understand you sometimes, Sage. You're usually always late, but on a day I would tolerate you being late, you're actually early," Sandy greeted me, as she got her stall in the market ready for opening.

Sandy was an artist. She mostly stuck to making pottery and dishware — they were the things that sold the best since they were so practical — but she did have a few paintings and knick-knacks up for sale.

Her hair matched her name, long tousles of ashen hair framed her face. Her hair was quite unruly, not that she ever tried to tame her Lion's man, as she called it. Just as she didn't like to be tied down, she didn't like to tie down her hair.

Like Memphis' immediate family, Sandy moved around the Borderlands quite frequently. Currently, she was staying over at the Eastern edge, near where I lived, so whenever Sandy needed help, I was able.

I longed to one day be like Sandy. I loved to paint and sketch, but paint wasn't cheap, so I hardly ever got the opportunity to put any paint on a canvas. It was looking like art would just have to be a hobby of mine instead of a career — that's why I liked spending time with Sandy. It made me feel like my distant dream could one day become a reality.

"I can leave for a couple minutes and then come back so that I'll be late. If that pleases you," I teased Sandy. She was like an older sister to me, so it was hard not to tease her when given the chance.

Sandy laughed, as we finished setting up some of the plates in the front of the display. "Happy Birthday! Welcome to the years of realizing adulthood sucks."

"Life is only downhill from here, I guess," I laughed alongside Sandy, taking a seat behind our booth as the market was about to open.

I smoothed down my striped dress. I wouldn't normally wear my favorite dress to the market, but it was my birthday, and I wanted to feel my best. It was quite flattering; it was one of the only dresses from the seamstress I owned, and the waist had a cute tie-around bow that accentuated my hips.

Learning from the wind yesterday, I had placed a headband made by Sandy in my hair, so it wouldn't flop all around since it was too short to tie up.

"Each day after you're born, you're closer to death, so really, life has been downhill since then," Sandy took a seat next to me, propping up her legs on a crate.

"You know how to make a girl feel special on her birthday," I nudged her lightly.

"I'm here all day. And all day tomorrow," Sandy relaxed back, her back leaning against the stone wall behind us.

As the day continued to wear on, we were able to make a couple of sales. The dishware sold quickly and the pottery was sold shortly after that. Her paintings and other various items, however, were not as lucky. She huffed, complaining that no one in the Borderlands appreciated real art — well except for me, she clarified.

While she was busy going off on a tangent, I was trying to stop the tops of my feet from getting sunburnt. I had stepped out from behind the stall to help sell some items, and I could feel the heat centralizing on my feet. It was the one downside to not wearing shoes, but I had thought that after twenty years, my feet were a little more resilient than that.

The day began to wear on, and the summer heat was becoming unbearable. I had sheltered back underneath the shade of the stall, but it did little to stop the sweat from coming full force. My dress had started to stick to my body, and it was times like this where I wished we had the luxuries of electricity.

We could have — if the isolation from the rest of the United States did not go down as terribly as it had. There were remnants of power lines that used to surge electricity through whatever city the Borderlands once was, but no outside provider would dare support us in our needs, and the Council had decided long ago that we could not enlist any witches for help.

"Hey, Cous," Memphis greeted Sandy, as he sauntered over to the stall, Gracie and Si in tow.

"Little Cous," Sandy acknowledged Memphis, "and crew."

"Happy Birthday, Sage!" Memphis exclaimed before turning his attention back to Sandy. "So, what is it going to take for you to let the birthday girl off early today?"

"Hm, I don't know. We've been awfully busy, and she's quite the saleswoman. I am, after all, saving up for some oil paints — you know, the kind your parents sell," Sandy mused over, relaxing into her makeshift seat.

"Ah," Memphis came to a realization. "The expensive kind of oil paints."

"Hm, those could be the ones," Sandy shrugged. "Them being expensive, though, I don't know anything about that."

Memphis combed a hand through his brunette hair. "Okay, you've got a deal. I'll make sure Fitz brings them over to you tomorrow."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Cous," Sandy smiled, her eyes bright with satisfaction.

Memphis turned to me. "Now, come on, Sage, we've got your birthday to celebrate."

Giving Sandy a sweaty squeeze, I promised her I would try my hardest not to be too late in the future, but even I couldn't trust the promise of my own words.

As the four of us started to exit the market, I asked, "Where's Ember?"

I had noticed her missing when Memphis first arrived. I thought it was odd — especially on my birthday. I was closest to Ember out of everyone here, and I was looking forward to seeing her today. She always gifted the most thoughtful gifts, and I'd be lying if I wasn't anticipating what mine would be.

"I didn't think she'd be up to your birthday surprise," Memphis confessed, as he led us down a dirt route. The destination was still unknown.

"It's nothing... bad, right?" My concern started to grow. I had told Gran and Pa that Memphis was up to something, but that I would be back home at a decent hour so all Gran's preparations would not go to waste.

Gran loved to serve grand feasts for each of her family member's birthdays. I was her little flower, so she always liked to put extra effort into my birthday especially, even if I adamantly told her not to. She always swatted off the notion and would tell me that while she couldn't provide a lot of gifts and presents, she could provide a meal fit for royalty, and so she wouldn't be persuaded otherwise.

"Sage, you don't want me to answer that," he patted my back as his strides became quicker.

"Memphis!" I exclaimed.

Memphis's pace picked up. When he was a good couple feet in front of us, he stopped, holding up his hand for us to stop, too. By now, we were a little distance away from the market, and no one seemed to be nearby.

Mischief filled Memphis's eyes, and I took a nervous gulp. I had an intuition that I was not going to be thrilled about my birthday surprise.

"We're going to the Outside."