Chapter 3
The safe room was in a small building I didn’t know.
It had a front desk, two soft chairs, and a bowl of wrapped crackers beside a water cooler. The walls were painted a color that was supposed to be calming. I didn’t know what color that was. It looked like gray mixed with a little yellow.
Ms. Alvarez showed me the room before she let me enter.
“There’s a bed, a bathroom, and a night-light,” she said. “You can leave the door open or closed.”
“Who else is here?”
“Staff members. No one will come in without telling you, except for an emergency.”
I stood in the doorway.
The bed had a blue blanket folded at the foot. There were no bars on the window. There was a small table with a cup and a plastic pitcher of water. The ordinary things made me more nervous than an empty room would have. It looked like someone expected me to sleep.
“Do I have to?”
“Not tonight.”
She said it plainly. Not like a trick.
I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress sank under me. My backpack was still beside my chair from school. I had forgotten it was there.
Ms. Alvarez placed a paper bag on the table. “A staff member brought food. You can eat now or later.”
Inside were crackers, a cheese sandwich, an apple, and a carton of milk. I ate the crackers first because they made the least noise.
Ms. Alvarez sat in the chair near the door.
“Your teacher wanted you to know she’s going to check on you tomorrow,” she said.
“Is she coming here?”
“She may call. We’ll ask before we share anything.”
I held the red sleeve over my bruised arm.
“What happens to my stepmom?”
“That depends on what the investigation finds. Right now, our job is to keep you safe and understand what happened.”
I watched the night-light glow beneath a little plastic shade. It was shaped like a moon, though it didn’t look like the moon outside.
“Will she be mad?”
“She may be upset.”
“She gets mad when people make her look bad.”
Ms. Alvarez didn’t argue with that. “You are not responsible for protecting her image.”
I didn’t know what image meant, but I knew what protecting meant. It meant saying I was tired when she asked why I had dark circles under my eyes. It meant pulling my sleeves down. It meant cleaning the kennel before she checked.
After dark, a staff member brought pajamas and a toothbrush. The pajamas were too big, so the cuffs covered part of my hands. I changed in the bathroom and folded my uniform on the counter.
There was a mirror above the sink.
My pigtails had come loose. One hung lower than the other. I fixed it with my fingers, then stopped. My face looked younger without the classroom around it.
A telephone rang somewhere outside the room.
I froze.
Ms. Alvarez answered it in the hall. I couldn’t hear the first words, but I recognized my stepmom’s voice when it came through the receiver. It was sharp and fast, even from far away.
I stepped toward the door.
Ms. Alvarez turned her back to the room. “I can’t discuss the child’s location.”
My stomach twisted.
A pause.
“No. You’ll need to speak with the assigned investigator.”
Another pause.
“I understand you’re upset. I’m ending this call now.”
She came back inside and closed the door halfway.
“Was that her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she wanted to know where you were.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
I sat on the bed and pushed my feet under the blanket.
Ms. Alvarez remained by the door. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I need to ask one more question. Is there anything at the house that would help us understand what happens at night?”
I pictured the kennel.
It stood behind the house near the fence, with a metal latch and a roof that rattled when the wind moved through it. The smell clung to my clothes even after I changed. I pictured the place where the blanket never reached the corners.
“There’s a red bucket,” I said. “She makes me use it.”
Ms. Alvarez nodded. “Would you be willing to help us find it later?”
I pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“Will I have to go inside?”
“Not unless you choose to. We can talk about other ways.”
I looked at the night-light. The door was still open. Nobody had locked it.
“I’ll tell you where it is,” I said. “But I’m not going inside.”
“That’s a boundary we can keep.”
The word sounded solid.
I lay down without taking off my socks. Ms. Alvarez switched off the ceiling light and left the night-light on.
For a while, I listened to the building settle. Pipes clicked in the wall. A car passed on the road. Every sound made me expect the kennel door.
Then my phone-less hand tightened around the teacher’s pen.
May you like
I had told the truth once.
When morning came, I would have to decide whether telling more of it could keep the truth from being changed.
