[CHAPTER 1] - The Bread in My Pocket
The first time I hid food from Vivian, I was four years old.
It was a Tuesday morning.
Dad was already gone for work, and Vivian stood beside the coffee machine in a cream-colored dress, scrolling through her phone while I sat at the kitchen island.
My feet swung above the floor.
I remember staring at the toast on my plate.
I wasn't hungry.
But someone else was.
When Vivian turned her back, I folded the toast in half and pushed it into the pocket of my blue dress.
My heart beat so hard I thought she might hear it.
She didn't.
Adults missed things when they happened close to the floor.
I had learned that three nights earlier.
I had been coloring in the kitchen while Vivian talked upstairs on the phone.
I was making a purple dog.
It had green ears because I couldn't find the brown crayon.
Then I heard something behind the cabinets.
Scratch.
I stopped coloring.
Scratch.
I crawled closer to the wall.
"Kitty?"
Nothing answered.
I pressed my ear against the cold baseboard.
That was when I heard crying.
It wasn't the loud kind.
It sounded like someone trying to cry without getting caught.
"Hello?"
The crying stopped.
I waited.
Then a tiny voice whispered from somewhere inside the wall.
"I'm hungry."
I dropped my crayon.
I remember staring at the wall because I knew walls weren't supposed to talk.
"Where are you?"
There was no answer.
Then I saw the metal air vent near the floor.
I crawled toward it.
The space behind the slats was completely dark.
"Are you there?"
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then one small finger appeared between the metal strips.
I gasped.
The finger vanished.
"It's okay," I whispered quickly. "I'm Ellie."
The voice came back.
"She said I can't talk."
"Who?"
No answer.
I didn't understand secrets between adults.
I understood hunger.
So I asked the most important question I could think of.
"Do you want crackers?"
There was a long pause.
"Yes."
After that, feeding the girl became my secret job.
A banana disappeared after breakfast.
Crackers vanished after lunch.
One night I slipped a dinner roll under my sweater.
The girl never asked for much.
She always whispered thank you.
On Thursday evening, Vivian finally noticed.
"Ellie."
Her voice made me stop moving.
She stood beside the kitchen island, holding the empty napkin where another dinner roll had been.
"Did you take this?"
I looked at my shoes.
"No."
Even at four, I knew it was a bad lie.
"Look at me."
I slowly lifted my head.
Vivian always looked perfect.
Her hair never seemed messy.
Her lipstick never smudged.
Dad used to tell people she looked ready for a magazine even when she was buying milk.
But that evening, I wasn't looking at her lipstick.
I was looking at her eyes.
"Are you hiding food somewhere?"
I shook my head.
Her smile disappeared.
Then Dad walked through the hallway.
"Where's my favorite girl?"
I ran.
"Daddy!"
He lifted me into his arms, and for a moment I forgot the vent, the secret girl, and Vivian's questions.
Dad kissed my cheek.
"There she is."
I wrapped my arms around him.
Vivian laughed behind us.
"Your daughter is apparently stealing bread now."
Dad grinned.
"That's a serious crime."
Usually I would have laughed.
I didn't.
Dad noticed.
"You okay, peanut?"
I looked over his shoulder.
Vivian was smiling again.
But her eyes warned me.
I buried my face against Dad.
"I'm tired."
He kissed my hair.
"Then we'll get you to bed early."
He believed me.
For years afterward, he would tell me that sentence haunted him.
The next afternoon, Dad was working and Vivian went upstairs.
I waited until I couldn't hear her heels anymore.
Then I pulled two slices of bread from my dress pocket.
I hurried to the vent.
"I'm here."
The crying stopped immediately.
I broke the bread into little pieces and pushed them through the narrow metal openings.
A thin hand appeared.
The fingers were pale.
Too pale.
They grabbed the bread quickly.
"Slow down," I whispered.
The girl kept eating.
I couldn't see her face.
Only pieces of her hand.
"What's your name?"
Nothing.
I pushed another piece through.
"I'm Ellie."
The girl finally whispered.
"Nora."
I smiled.
"Hi, Nora."
"Hi."
"How old are you?"
She didn't answer.
"Are you four?"
"No."
"Five?"
A pause.
"Six."
Six sounded incredibly old to me.
"Do you have a mommy?"
The hand froze.
A soft sob came from the darkness.
I felt terrible.
"Don't cry."
"My mommy's gone."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
I pushed another piece of bread through.
Nora didn't take it.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
I knew about being scared.
Thunder scared me.
Dark hallways scared me.
Vivian's quiet angry voice scared me most.
So I put my fingers against the vent.
"You don't have to be scared. I'm here."
Nora's hand slowly returned.
Instead of taking the bread, she touched my fingertips through the metal.
We stayed like that.
Two little girls on opposite sides of a wall.
Then I heard it.
Click.
Click.
Click.
High heels against the kitchen floor.
My whole body went stiff.
Nora's hand disappeared.
I turned around.
Vivian stood in the doorway.
She wasn't looking at me.
Her eyes were fixed on the vent.
Then the crumbs.
Then the bread in my hand.
I expected her to be angry.
She wasn't.
At first she looked terrified.
She crossed the kitchen so quickly that I pressed myself against the wall.
"Ellie."
Her voice shook.
"What are you doing?"
"She was hungry."
Vivian stopped.
For one long second, neither of us moved.
Then her eyes snapped toward the vent.
"How long?"
I didn't understand.
"How long have you been giving her food?"
My throat tightened.
"I don't know."
"HOW LONG?"
I jumped.
Behind the vent, Nora made a tiny frightened sound.
Vivian heard it.
All the color disappeared from her face.
I looked at the vent.
Then at Vivian.
Something finally made sense inside my four-year-old mind.
Vivian wasn't shocked that a child was trapped behind our kitchen wall.
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She wasn't wondering who the girl was.
She knew exactly who Nora was.
