The Secret Room Read Free Page A

“are you awake? What time is it? We’re missing our breakfast shift... Karl?”
    Karl didn’t answer.
    I opened my eyes and saw why he wasn’t answering me. Because he just wasn’t there, that’s why. And I wasn’t in my bed at the orphanage, and there was no alarm clock and no breakfast shift.
    The bed I was sleeping in belonged to the Ribbeks, and the room did too, and the house and everything.
    I sat up on the edge of the bed, letting my legs dangle, and wrapped my arms around Lucas the toy dog, who I was actually already too old for.
    And all of a sudden I felt cold and stiff with fear.
    What was going to happen today? What did Paul and Ines expect of me? Would I mess anything up?
    The daylight crept through a blue window shade with stars on it and made its way over the wooden floor to the bed. As if it secretly wanted to take over the whole room.
    It was a nice room.
    On the floor there was a colorful, woven rug, and on the walls next to a big, old wardrobe there were a bunch of wooden shelves full of books. They looked like books for adults, but still, they made the room seem cozy. I imagined how in the winter you could take a book and lie on the colorful rug and read while it was snowy and freezing cold outside ...
    Next to the book shelves there were more empty shelves. There were just a couple of shells and stones lying on them. They were waiting, those shelves. For someone to fill them.
    And then I felt a little colder and even more anxious.
    I knelt down in front of my suitcase in my pajamas and took out everything that I owned. The wardrobe opened its jaws and swallowed my clothes. I put an article of clothing into every compartment so it looked like more.
    But when I stepped back, the wardrobe looked just as empty as before.
    With great care, I set my four CDs, three books, and my mp3 player on the shelves. They looked back at me sadly and hungrily.
    I sat down on the bed and squeezed Lucas hard against my eyes so no tears would come out. Everything was nice and pleasant and wonderful; it was just me—I just didn’t fit in here.
    They were going to notice and give me back.
    After I got dressed, the wardrobe was even emptier.
    I stood in the hallway and listened. There was music playing downstairs. It didn’t sound sad like the music on the radio. Instead it was music you wanted to dance to.
    I brushed my teeth until you could see your reflection in them.
    Then I wanted to go downstairs to where the music was, but something made me hesitate.
    Because on the way to the stairs, I passed the door. The door with the frame that made a half circle at the top.
    Now I saw that it was the only door on this side of the hall. To the left and right of it there were two large windows, and through those windows I saw the yard with its fruit trees and behind that, far in the distance, a streak of blue: the ocean.
    But that was impossible.
    I opened one of the windows and stuck my head out. I could see the second window. Between the two there was only the side of the house and, climbing up it, a plant with light and dark flowers.
    Astonished, I pulled my head back inside. There was no room behind this door.
    It led right into midair. Why would you need a door without a room? I touched the handle. It was silvery and cool to the touch.
    At that moment the music downstairs cut out and I heard Ines curse at the record player. Right after that it starting playing again, a different song this time, not quite so wild and lively—but I was already on my way downstairs. Maybe I’d open the door later.
    Ines was in the kitchen watching a huge cooking pot.
    â€œGood morning, Achim,” she said and nodded toward the pot. “Jam. Whenever a record starts skipping, I run over to it, and the jam boils over. As soon as I’ve cleaned everything up, the record starts skipping again.”
    â€œMaybe you shouldn’t make jam and listen to music at the same time,” I