A Hat Full Of Sky

tried!”
    “How about the salt and sugar trick?”
    Miss Level hesitated. “Well, no…” She brightened up. “He does love that one, so he’s bound to turn up, yes?”
    Tiffany found the big bag of salt and another of sugar, and poured both of them into a bowl. Then she stirred up the fine white crystals with her hand.
    She’d found this was the ideal away of keeping Oswald occupied while they did the cooking. Sorting the salt and sugar grains back into the right bags could take him an entire happy afternoon. But now the mixture just lay there, Oswaldless.
    “Oh, well…I’ll search the house,” said Miss Level, as if that was a good way of finding an invisible person. “Go and see to the goats, will you, dear? And then we’ll have to try to remember how to do the dishes!”
    Tiffany let the goats out of the shed. Usually Black Meg immediately went and stood on the milking platform and gave her an expectant look as if to say, I’ve thought up a new trick.
    But not today. When Tiffany looked inside the shed, the goats were huddled in the dark at the far end. They panicked, nostrils flaring, and scampered around as she went toward them, but she managed to grab Black Meg by her collar. The goat twisted and fought her as she dragged her out toward the milking stand. Meg climbed up because it was either that or have her head pulled off, then stood there snorting and bleating.
    Tiffany stared at the goat. Her bones felt as though they were itching. She wanted to…do things, climb the highest mountain, leap into the sky, run around the world. And she thought: This is silly . I start every day with a battle of wits with an animal !
    Well, let’s show this creature who is in charge.
    She picked up the broom that was used for sweeping out the milking parlor. Black Meg’s slot eyes widened in fear, and wham! went the broom.
    It hit the milking stand. Tiffany hadn’t intended to miss like that. She’d wanted to give Meg the wallop the creature richly deserved, but somehow, the stick had twisted in her hand. She raised it again, but the look in her eye and the whack on the wood had achieved the right effect. Meg cowered.
    “No more games!” hissed Tiffany, lowering the stick.
    The goat stood as still as a log. Tiffany milked her out, took the pail back into the dairy, weighed it, chalked up the amount on the slate by the door, and tipped the milk into a big bowl.
    The rest of the goats were nearly as bad, but a herd learns fast.
    All together they gave three gallons, which was pretty pitiful for ten goats. Tiffany chalked this up without enthusiasm and stood staring at it, fiddling with the chalk. What was the point of this? Yesterday she’d been full of plans for experimental cheeses, but now cheese was dull .
    Why was she here, doing silly chores, helping people too stupid to help themselves? She could be doing… anything!
    She looked down at the scrubbed wooden table.

    HElp Me
    Someone had written on the wood in chalk. And the piece of chalk was still in her hand—
    “Petulia’s come to see you, dear,” said Miss Level, behind her.
    Tiffany quickly shifted a milking bucket over the words and turned around guiltily.
    “What?” she said. “Why?”
    “Just to see if you’re all right, I think,” said Miss Level, watching Tiffany carefully.
    The dumpy girl stood very nervously on the doorstep, her pointy hat in her hands.
    “Um, I just thought I ought to see how you, um, are…” she muttered, looking Tiffany squarely in the boots. “Um, I don’t think anyone really wanted to be unkind….”
    “You’re not very clever and you’re too fat,” said Tiffany. She stared at the round pink face for a moment and knew things. “And you still have a teddy bear help me and you believe in fairies.”
    She slammed the door, went back to the dairy, and stared at the bowls of milk and curds as if she was seeing them for the first time.
    Good with Cheese. That was one of the things everyone remembered about her: Tiffany Aching, brown hair, Good with Cheese. But now the dairy looked all wrong and unfamiliar.
    She gritted her teeth. Good with Cheese. Was that really what she wanted to be? Of all the things people could be in the world, did she want to be known just as a dependable person to have around rotted milk? Did she really want to spend all day scrubbing slabs and washing pails and plates and…and…and that weird wire thing just there, that—
    …cheese cutter…
    —that cheese cutter? Did she