Jessica, Tessie, and Amy live in a place where everybody wears a color-coded tasseled identification braid from their right sleeve, signaling what they do for a living. The system works well, except for the people wearing yellow identification braids. These people sell illegal braids to those with bad reputations, so they could appear as someone better and make a living. The people wearing yellow braids are the one problem in this otherwise perfectly organized system.

Read part one of this story here!

Amy, Jessica, and Tessie had been friends for a long time. Since they were seven. They met at a playground, where Jessica was squatting over an ant pile, crumbling bits of Giraffe Bread onto the ground and watching the ants haul it away. Amy and Tessie were also playing, and ran over to see what Jessica was doing. Then they were all feeding the ants, and their parents started talking to each other because that’s what you do when your kids play together.

Tessie mused on this as she tagged behind her friends as they walked home from the bakery. She wondered if the people with the yellow or black identification braids had ever had a friend. She wondered if the tall lady would have a friend now that she isn’t wearing the mark of a criminal.

Coincidentally, all three children lived on the same block—Jessica faced East, Tessie faced West, and Amy lived in a house facing North. If they were all going to their separate houses than Jessica would lead and go inside her house first, then Tessie and Amy would turn the corner and walk to Amy’s house, where Amy would go inside, and then Tessie would turn the corner and walk to her house. But this time Tessie walked to her front door and invited them to sit on the porch for a while, because her father had opened a watermelon and was eating it there on the porch, but he needed help finishing it.

Tessie’s father flicked the seeds out of his slice with his fingernail.

“Why don’t you eat the seeds, Dad?” suggested Tessie. She bit into her own piece and chewed the seeds along with the rest.

“Won’t a watermelon plant grow in my stomach if I eat the seeds?” he asked worriedly.

“No, there’s no dirt in your stomach,” said Jessica, who knew about plants.

“There’s water. That’s all it needs to get started, right? Times are hard. I can’t afford to grow a watermelon plant in my stomach.”

“We got a bracelet for Mom,” said Tessie quickly, not about to get her dad started on a “times are hard” speech.

“It wasn’t too expensive, was it?” he asked. “Times are hard,” he repeated.

“Not too expensive. I got it with my spending money,” she assured him.

“It wasn’t too expensive because it was made out of gum wrappers. I keep telling ‘em but they don’t believe me,” said Jessica.

“No, it’s real silver, and Mom’s going to love it.”

“You can’t tell anymore. All them people with yellow braids.” He sighed.

“What about the people with the yellow braids?” Jessica asked, feeling angry that those people should even be in a conversation. She grabbed some watermelon and gnawed at it.

“Well, it’s like this,” he began, his identification braid waving as he gestured. It was purple, signifying that he owned a company. “Before the people with the yellow braids became a problem, the vendors were vendors for a reason. There was a reason they sold stuff—it was because they were good at it, or had a talent for making things, or were inventing something to sell. There was a reason they were at the market or the shops and not sweeping streets somewhere.” He sighed and flicked the seeds off the last piece of watermelon. “But now, because of some people appearing as vendors or owners of companies or just housekeepers when they’re not, because those people with the yellow braids are in our society,” his voice rose, and he nearly shouted at them, “is why we can’t be sure that a bracelet is silver or gum wrappers, is why you can’t go to the bank without making sure you haven’t been cheated, is why we have to check for dust under the rugs because our cleaning people aren’t good at their job—somebody should do away with all the wretched brats with yellow braids! Do away with them!” He flicked the last seed contemptuously. “Good day, ladies.”

The next morning the three friends were walking down the street, peering into shop windows and peeking around the market stalls, not looking to buy, but thinking of what Tessie’s father had told them. Each of them wondered, quietly, which of the people behind the counters were vendors, and which of them were posing as one. On the way they passed the same woman with the yellow braid that had sold the green braid to the tall lady from the market. They crossed to the other side of the street and walked quickly, looking to the front, as if their life depended on getting to the end of the block. But just before they turned for home, Amy looked back at the woman sitting in the shade with her tablecloth and her braids, and at the cashbox beside her. A rather large cashbox. With a string tied around it to hold it closed. And she thought it might not be so bad to wear a yellow braid.

To be continued!