My Guardian Locked Me in the Shed, But My Real Parents Are Billionaires

The storage door opened after sunrise.

Cold white light poured into the shed, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I was still curled around Button.

My fingers had gone stiff around his body. When I tried to stand, my legs shook so hard I had to put one hand on the concrete floor.

Grant stayed in the doorway.

He did not help me.

He nudged a plastic cup toward me with his boot. Water splashed over the rim.

“Drink.”

I reached for it with both hands because one was not steady enough.

My head felt heavy and hot. That scared me. The rest of me was freezing, but my face burned.

Grant crouched just enough to make sure I was listening.

“If your teachers ask where you slept, you say your room.”

I stared at the water.

“If you tell them about this shed, I’ll call social services myself. They’ll put you in a strange house with strangers. You won’t take anything from here with you.”

My arms tightened around Button.

Grant noticed.

His mouth pulled into a thin smile.

“Yes,” he said. “That means the bear too.”

I nodded.

The diner opened an hour later.

Usually the smell of bacon made my stomach growl. That morning it made me feel sick.

Tessa gave me a wet rag and pointed toward the booths.

“Edges too. We don’t keep you here for free.”

I wiped syrup from the tables and carried coffee cups to the kitchen. Every time I bent down, black dots danced in front of my eyes.

After Lorna died two years earlier, chores at the diner had become my payment for being allowed to live upstairs.

At least, that was what Grant called them.

I never knew how much rent a six-year-old was supposed to pay.

By lunch, every booth was full.

I carried a stack of dirty plates toward the swinging kitchen doors. My arms ached, and the dishes felt heavier with every step.

Brooke came toward me with two mugs of hot chocolate on a tray.

I moved to the side.

She moved the same way.

I tried the other side.

So did she.

Then she smiled.

Her shoulder slammed into my chest.

The tray tipped.

Hot chocolate poured over my left forearm.

For one second, I could not even make a sound.

Then the pain hit.

I dropped the plates. Ceramic smashed across the floor.

I grabbed my arm and cried out.

Brooke screamed louder.

“She tried to burn me!”

Grant pushed through the customers.

He went straight to Brooke.

“Did it touch you?” he asked, turning her hands over.

Brooke pointed at three brown drops on the cuff of her thick sweater.

“She pushed me on purpose!”

Grant stood and caught my good arm.

“Grant, look.” I held up my left arm. My wet sleeve clung to my skin. Bright red patches were already rising underneath it. “It hurts.”

He barely glanced at me.

“Stop stealing attention from your sister.”

He shoved me through the kitchen doors.

Tessa was waiting beside the fryers.

She pushed a mop handle into my hands.

“Clean the dining room, then do the kitchen. And no lunch.”

My burned arm throbbed so badly that I almost dropped the mop.

I made it to the deep sink in the back and turned on cold water. I pushed my sleeve up carefully.

Blisters were starting to form.

I held my arm under the tap.

Tears slid down my face before I could stop them.

Maybe I should have moved faster.

Maybe I should have known Brooke would not move.

Maybe—

“Why are you the one trying to figure out what you did wrong?”

I jumped.

Ruth Bell, one of the older waitresses, stood behind me.

She looked toward the kitchen doors, then set a small bowl on the counter.

Chicken noodle soup.

Steam curled up from the broth.

“I’m not allowed,” I whispered.

“I know.”

Ruth slid the bowl closer. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat.”

I stared at her.

Adults usually said rules first. Even nice adults.

I reached for the spoon.

“What is this?”

Tessa’s voice cracked across the kitchen.

I froze.

She rounded the corner and saw the bowl.

“Stealing food now?”

“I gave it to her,” Ruth said.

Tessa ignored her.

Her eyes dropped to Button, who was tucked under my good arm.

“You care more about that filthy toy than learning respect.”

She grabbed him.

“No!”

The word flew out of me before I could swallow it.

Tessa lifted Button out of reach.

“He’s going in the trash.”

I lunged.

I caught both of Button’s legs.

“Give him back!”

Tessa pulled.

So did I.

The old fabric ripped with a loud tear.

I fell backward onto the wet tile.

Tessa stumbled into the counter.

Button landed between us.

His left ear had split along the seam.

My heart dropped.

I grabbed him and peeled the torn cloth back.

There was almost no stuffing inside the ear.

Instead, a crooked yellow star had been sewn into the lining.

Under it were two tiny black letters.

M.A.

Ruth made a sound behind me.

Not a gasp exactly.

More like she had forgotten how to breathe.

I looked up.

Her face had gone pale.

“Maisie,” she said very softly. “Has that always been there?”

“I don’t know.”

I touched the star with one finger. “I never saw inside his ear before.”

Ruth crouched beside me.

“Can I take a picture?”

I pulled Button against my chest.

“Why?”

Her eyes flicked toward Tessa.

“Because I think somebody might recognize it.”

That answer made no sense to me, but Ruth looked scared in a way I had never seen before.

I nodded once.

“Okay. Just don’t tell Grant I stopped working.”

Ruth took out her phone. Her hands shook while she photographed the yellow star and the letters.

Tessa snorted.

“Enough drama. Back to work.”

By evening, my fever had climbed higher.

The diner lights looked too bright. Sounds came from far away and too close at the same time.

I carried four empty water glasses from a booth.

My knees folded.

The floor rushed up.

Ruth caught me under the arms before my head hit the table.

“I’ve got you.”

“Put her down,” Grant called from the register. He did not even stop counting bills. “She’s faking.”

Tessa came over and pulled me upright by the back of my apron.

“Go upstairs. You look awful. Customers don’t need to see that.”

I wanted to tell her I could not feel my feet properly.

Instead, I walked.

The hallway wall kept me from falling.

As I passed the pantry, I heard Ruth’s voice.

She was hidden in the shadow near the shelves, whispering into her phone.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “A little girl. Red bear. Yellow star. Initials M.A.”

I stopped.

My shoulder pressed against the wall.

Ruth lowered her voice even more.

“Send the photo to the Vale family now. Don’t wait until morning.”

Vale.

I had never heard the name before.

But Ruth said it like it mattered.

Like maybe somewhere, someone had been waiting to hear it with mine.