"Three Chickens, four mangoes, Three chickens Four Mangoes, threechickensfourmangoes, Four Mangoes Three Chickens..." I murmured to myself trying to get it striaght as I sauntered towards the market. Mr. Bartly can be quite a fright when I forget to pick up the groceries on my collection runs. I mean, I know I'm sixteen years old, and I know that I've been a working adult for four years, and yes I understand that being a member of the C's comes with responsibilities, but I still get distracted when I'm sent to the market. I finally got to M street, M, the first letter whose members may grow things for market. I smiled as the spicy sweet smells hit my nose and the tang from a nearby food stand hit my eyes, which promptly started to water. I closed my eyes for a moment, not long enough to dawdle, but just long enough to take in the sounds. Women gossiping, teenagers flirting, children running and shouting and playing, so different from the orderly sounds in the memories that I have of growing up. I walked to the first booth and sighed, sometimes I wished taht things were different and that these lovely market people didn't hate me just because of my job, just because of the higher letter that I had been born into. I sighed, remembering that I was lucky, remembering all of the things they told me about how wonderful it is to be a C, and collected the fee from the first booth. I went along to the next, this one selling rainbow scarves in every color and pattern imaginable and looked down at my plain gray and navy uniform. Simple and dignified. It was the same for about four more booths: walk up, announce the numbers, collect the fee. Then, all of the sudden, a girl who had to be about my age came running through the booths, and she knocked me over. "Ooopsie!" She giggled and helped me up. I asked her name, as it is my duty to report all those citizens running through the market. Then I looked at her, really looked, she looked about the same as me: Curly copper hair, and dark green eyes, but the resemblance stopped there. Where I had pale dignified skin, she wore a smattering of ffreckles. She was dressed in a flowing white top, and a bright skirt that carefreely brushed her knees. Around her waist was wrapped one of the rainbow scarves I had admired so much, in her hair was another. A boy, who might have been her brother, or might have been a friend, caught up with her, and they both laughed and smiled. "Rita" She said happily, though she must have known she was in trouble. "Spencer" the boy added, I noticed how good looking he was. They ran off down the busy market street, for some exotic desination unknown and I was left alone to go about my everyday duties, wondering what it would be like if I were born into another letter. We could be friends, wandering the markets, dressing how we like, no work till we were older, twenty at least! Running around discovering lige while the sun was up, and laughing and gossiping when it was down. Going to school, and maybe having other friends or enemies, with no stuffy rooms and boring tutors for us. It would be fabulous, it would be amazing, it would be free, eating magoes and watching the sunrise over the busy stalls. Just the three of us, Spencer, Cate and Rita, Rita, Spencer, and I.