I crawl across the room, exhausted, since I fell asleep leaning against the wall, waiting for another carriage to come by.
“What’s it say?” I ask.
Teeny hands me the yellowed paper and my eyes try to focus on the tiny script. God, how did she write this small and neat?
And sure enough, she goes into great detail about the summer heat and how other girls who had come from France with her weren’t handling the conditions here well and were getting very ill. I drop the letter and look to the ceiling. There wasn’t air-conditioning back then, but there is now. So there has to be a vent, right? Maybe that’s how we can get out of this room!
But all I see are rough wooden beams and plaster.
Running to our small bathroom, I flip the light and see a small grate in the corner, painted the same color as the ceiling. It’s not very big but I might be able to squeeze through it. I never noticed it there. Judging by the walls, the bathroom was a later addition to this room and this space was probably part of the bigger room at one point. I can barely reach the grate.
Teeny follows me back into the bathroom once I’ve gotten the wooden plunger and watches from the opposite corner.
“Where’d you get that?” she asks.
“From the other bathroom with the shower.”
I jab the grate until one corner pops out. Continuing around the edges, the entire thing breaks free. One more jab and the grate falls to the floor.
I’m so excited it’s hard to breathe. “I’m going up.”
“What?” Teeny squeals.
I put one foot on the sink and use it to push myself in the air, grabbing the edges of the opening. There’s a white air duct fitted to the hole, but when I touch it it feels like fabric, and I unhook it from the opening, pushing it aside.
“Teeny, push my feet up.”
With the extra help, I’m able to pull myself inside the hole and get my elbows braced inside. It’s dark up here and bigger than I thought it would be. I heave myself all the way in then turn and look down at Teeny. She’s got her arms raised like she wants me to pull her up.
“You stay. I won’t be long—just taking a look around.”
She nods and I move away before that disappointed face makes me change my mind about leaving her.
The area is big enough for me to stand and only duck my head a little bit. It’s dark and the only thing I can really see is the maze of white ducts worming their way through the space. I head directly across from my room, hoping to find Ethan. It’s super dusty up here and I’m terrified about the little creatures that call this space home.
At the spot where the air duct dives into the floor, I move it to the side and peer in. Pure relief. There he is.
But something is wrong with him. He’s lying on his side, curled in a ball. His shirt has inched up and his side is black and blue.
Oh God! What happened to him?
“Ethan,” I whisper. I pull on the grate, trying to get it open but it won’t budge.
He doesn’t move.
“Ethan,” I say a little louder.
His head lifts off the mattress and he looks around the room.
“Up here. In the ceiling.”
He turns over, letting out an awful moan. It must be so painful to move. “Anna?”
“Yes. Up here. Look for a painted grate.” I’m still pulling and pushing on it but it’s stuck. I’ve never felt so desperate to touch him…to be near him.
By the time he’s standing underneath me, I want to cry. Pain is etched across his face.
“What happened to you?”
