The Secret Room Read Free

help but smile a little.
    Downstairs in the kitchen there was a big, old table full of termite holes. I sat down on a chair carefully.
    â€œWhy did you want a kid?” I asked.
    Ines set three plates with eggs and bread on the table.
    â€œYou like fried eggs?” she asked. Apparently she hadn’t heard my question.
    â€œFried eggs are my favorite,” I answered, to make her feel good. But during the meal I could scarcely keep my eyes open.
    I yawned even though I knew that it wasn’t polite. I felt embarrassed.
    But then Ines yawned.
    A moment later, Paul joined in.
    And we all laughed.
    Later, lying in bed in my striped pajamas, I remembered my question again. It was right when Paul came in to say goodnight—just the way Maria and the other women at the orphanage had done.
    â€œWhy did you want a kid?” I whispered as he leaned over my bed.
    Paul sighed.
    â€œYou know,” he said finally, “we had one once. A little boy.”
    â€œAnd?” I whispered in the darkness. “Where is he now?”

    â€œWhen he was four, he walked out into the street at the wrong moment.” Now Paul was whispering too. His voice sounded a little hoarse.
    â€œA truck hit him. He died immediately.”
    I didn’t know why, but I reached for Paul’s hand. “How old would he have been now?” I asked.
    â€œEleven,” whispered Paul. “Just like you.”
    That night, for the first time, I padded over the soft carpet down the hall, looking for the bathroom. I didn’t want to turn any lights on since I didn’t know where the right switches were. There was a little green lamp plugged into the wall. That would have to do.
    It was so strange to use a toilet that didn’t have five other kids waiting in their stalls next to it! On the way back to my room, I forgot the way.
    The hall went around a corner. Somehow I found a door and stood in front of it for a while, listening to the sounds coming from inside. It had to be the Ribbeks’ bedroom because I heard someone snoring softly and someone else breathing calmly.
    Behind another door I found a broom and a bunch of junk. The next door had to be the one to my room. I really wanted to crawl back under the blankets and leave the darkness of the hallway behind me.
    The door was right next to the little green lamp. You couldn’t miss it.
    I reached out for the handle—then I stopped in my tracks and hesitated for a moment. I was certain that I had left the door open behind me. Of course it was possible that a gust of air had made it swing shut, but there was something else that kept me from opening it: It was definitely not the right door. The one to my bedroom had a rectangular frame and a red plastic handle like all the other doors in the house. But the door in front of me was rounded at the top like the doors in palaces and castles. Instead of a plastic handle, it had a nicely curved, shiny silver handle with plant-like flourishes. And there was no keyhole.
    I ran my hand over the wood—it was rough and cracked.
    It simply couldn’t be. I was absolutely certain: This door hadn’t been there a few hours ago.
    I pressed my ear against it and listened.
    And then I heard the sobbing.
    It swelled from time to time; sometimes I could barely hear it, and sometimes I thought that Paul and Ines had to be able to hear it in their room.
    I wasn’t the only one who was unhappy. Right here, behind this door, there was someone else who was also feeling that way.
    But who could it be? I raced down the hall till I came to an open door—my door—and I leapt into bed, hid under the blanket, and pulled Lucas close.

CHAPTER 2
In which I create shards and
someone is standing at the window

    Funny , I thought, when I woke up. Why hadn’t the alarm clock gone off?
    Usually it rang until I was awake enough to turn it off. And why was it so quiet in the house?
    â€œHey, Karl,” I said drowsily,