The Little Greedy Girl

The Little Greedy Girl 

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. 

Beside the annual Inglesburg Christmas Tree stood a petite, sweet-faced girl of eight years named Avery Oda Bertram. The townspeople called her Little Match Girl, but for no apparent reason. 

In her hand, she shook a tin cup no bigger than a mouse. Her rosy cheeks contrasted her blue smock while her eyes glowed with excited fervor. 

Avery loved Inglesburg. 

When the wealthy of London migrated to the countryside, they brought with them the tradition of Christmas. Every year, Avery watched as firemen erected a bright, shiny pine tree in the middle of town square. 

Red and green danced off the windows of the post office, dressmakers, and bakery, positively lighting up the sky.

The poor, Avery thought, were lucky to have the rich.

With New Year’s Eve came flake after flake of beautiful, tantalizing snow. It dusted rooftops like sugar and draped itself over the Christmas Tree. Avery’s father used to say she was a snowflake—delicate and pretty. 

If only he could see her now. 

“A penny! A penny!” Avery called out in her honeyed voice. She stopped an old lady rushing into city hall, flashing her most pitiful dog-eyes. “Anything you can spare, miss?” 

The old lady pressed a hand to her chest, clutching her baby-blue reticule. “My goodness, child! What are you doing out here in the cold all alone? Where is your mother?” 

“A penny, kind miss?” Avery persisted, holding up her empty tin cup. Her bottom lip quivered in a way she’d grown used to—like clockwork. 

The woman’s wizened face softened as she dropped some coppers into the tin. “Do you see what is over there?” She pointed behind Avery. “That’s Mahogany Row. Everything you could ever hope for can be found in those manors. I imagine that if you work your hardest, you’ll be dancing in grand ballrooms and dining with silverware worth more than this entire town.” 

The old woman patted Avery’s fair hair and walked away. 

Avery immediately emptied the bucket, pocketing the coins with the rest she’d earned that evening. 

Avery didn’t tell the woman that she had danced in grand ballrooms and dined with diamond silverware before. 

***

Avery never stayed late into the evening. No one, save for the other beggars, roamed the streets at that hour. And Avery didn’t like the dark. 

When the interior pockets of her smock sagged with coins, she knew it was time to return home. Yet, when the mayor and mayoress of Inglesburg passed by the Tree, she couldn’t resist asking them. 

“A penny, p-please?” Avery’s teeth chattered from the cold, but she knew that the feeling was solely temporary. She would soon be cocooned in the safety of hot cocoa and crackling fires. 

“Oh, you poor dear!” the mayoress cried. “There is simply too much poverty nowadays!” 

“Too right,” the mayor replied in his gruff voice. He ushered Avery into City Hall. “It is far too chilly tonight.”

Avery walked past the great gilded doors of City Hall. It transcended all other buildings in the town with its stately white body, gold trim, and layered slate shingles. 

The mayoress lit a candle, gently illuminating mottled marble floors, paintings of mysterious men, and large pillars. 

The mayor led them down a long, dark hallway and into a small office. 

The room, larger than three boutiques combined, shone with pale opulence: diamond-studded carpets, silver picture frames, and oak furniture decorated. 

But, Avery was not impressed—she’d seen better. 

The mayor handed Avery a floor-length silk dress.

She saw a dozen more similar gowns on a rack by the window. 

“These were purchased from Venice to be donated to the Red Cross, but I suppose one may be spared.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Avery said in her sweetest voice. 

“Now you go and take care of yourself, okay?” 

Avery nodded, excited to add this fine dress to her collection. It would go perfectly with her gold Egyptian bracelet 

and silk embroidered ribbon

and green leather ribbon slippers

and satin bonnet. 

Avery had everything she ever wanted, but she still craved more. 

***

Beside the annual Inglesburg Christmas tree stood a hunched-back girl with sullen eyes, limp black hair, and a tattered gray dress. She had no name. Nor a tin cup, due to her lack of money. Instead, she begged with her tiny, emancipated hands.  

No-name Girl hated Inglesburg. 

She also hated the rich. 

They swarmed Inglesburg—a simple farming town—and raised food prices, built frivolous boutiques, and plowed over crops. 

The aristocracy pushed No-name Girl’s family to poverty and they all died from hunger—at least that's what she heard from the Parsons. 

They also died a few years ago. 

No-name girl caught sight of Little Match Girl walking by the Tree with a silk robe in her arms. 

“How does one amass such wealth?” No-name Girl called out. 

The howling wind was her only response. 

Little Match Girl was not like the other beggars on the street. She didn’t sleep on the cold floor, have dark skin like No-name Girl, or pick food from trash-cans. 

Little Match Girl had clothes that covered her skin and a painfully perfect posture. 

Just like the Christmas Tree, Little Match Girl captivated everyone’s attention and pity. 

“You could share those coins.” No-name Girl shivered on the cold floor. A spider crawled up her bare feet. “I know they’re in your pocket.” 

Little Match Girl ignored her. 

“What about the rest of us, huh? We get nothing?” No-name Girl waved to the homeless people huddled together by the Christmas Tree.  

Little Match Girl skipped away. 

No-name Girl watched as her nemesis entered one of the estates in Mahogany Row. 

Little Match Girl, No-name Girl concluded, was a monster. 

***

Little Match Girl loved playing her game. 

She smiled as her Mommy brushed her hair in front of the vanity. The desk and mirror combination came with the house when they moved to Mahogany Row.  

Yes, Little Match Girl lived in one of the richest streets of England. 

Yes, she conned people out of their money. 

It was fun, as long as Avery gave the money to Mommy afterwards. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Mommy whispered. “And don’t give the money to the nasty vagrants on the street.” 

Mommy didn’t have a job, so she spent a lot of her time reading catalogs. 

She bought porcelain dolls and pretty dresses for Avery. 

Why give away money, Little Match Girl thought, when she could have it for herself?