The Quiet Room
The Extra Chair

The Ledger

The new girl's name was Dot, and she lasted four days before Vesta sent her "somewhere better suited," which was what she always said right before a kid disappeared from the house for good.

I didn't ask questions. Asking questions got you a room with no dinner, or worse. But that night, with everyone asleep, curiosity got the better of me anyway.

Vesta's office was really just a converted pantry off the kitchen, door always locked, key always looped through her belt. Except that night, for once, she'd left it hanging in the door.

I told myself I'd just look.

The room smelled like paper and old coffee. A filing cabinet stood against the wall, and on top of it sat a green ledger book, corners soft with handling. I opened it under a sliver of hallway light.

Names. Pages and pages of names, dates, dollar amounts — kids I recognized, kids I didn't. My own name was there: Toby Marsh, arrived March, monthly subsidy $612. Pip's name. Birdie's. Dot's, crossed out with today's date.

But then I turned a page and found names from a whole different list — kids I'd never heard of, addresses in towns I'd never heard of either. Underneath one entry, someone had written a name that wasn't Vesta's.

D. Aldrich — 4 children — Ridgefield County.

I stared at it. Vesta didn't live in Ridgefield County. She'd never mentioned anyone named Aldrich.

A floorboard creaked behind me.

I slammed the ledger shut and spun around, heart slamming against my ribs — but it was only the house settling, the way old houses do at night. Still, my hands were shaking as I set the ledger back exactly where I'd found it, edges squared to the dust marks on the cabinet.

I didn't understand what I'd seen. Not yet. But I understood enough to know it was the kind of secret that got people sent away.

I just didn't know yet that it might be me.

Continue the story Part 3: The Line →

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