For six days, I had learned to move through the house without making much noise.
That morning, I barely touched the curtains.
The dark vehicle was gone.
I checked twice.
Then I checked again.
Nothing.
I told myself I had imagined someone sitting there.
That was easier than believing somebody had been watching.
I made the last piece of bread and spread peanut butter over it so thinly that I could see the bread through it.
I ate half.
The other half went into a napkin.
I wanted something left for later.
That was when I heard footsteps outside.
I froze.
A woman appeared beyond the kitchen window.
Sarah.
She wasn't at the front door this time.
She was looking directly inside.
I dropped behind the counter.
I could hear her voice through the glass.
“Maya?”
I didn't answer.
She moved closer.
Then she stopped.
I knew what she could see.
An empty kitchen.
A child hiding on the floor.
No adult.
Sarah pulled out her phone.
I heard only fragments.
“Yes.”
“No, I'm looking through the window.”
“She looks frightened.”
I pressed my hands against my ears.
I didn't want the police.
I didn't want Mom to find out.
I didn't want anyone to know.
Sarah crouched beside the window.
“Maya, look at me.”
Slowly, I lifted my head.
Her face was worried.
Not angry.
Not disappointed.
Worried.
“The sheriff is coming,” she said.
My stomach dropped.
“You're not in trouble.”
I shook my head.
Children who weren't in trouble didn't hide behind kitchen counters.
Children who weren't in trouble didn't count crackers.
Children who weren't in trouble didn't put chairs beneath doors.
I whispered, “Don't call my mom.”
Sarah couldn't hear me.
I crawled closer.
“Don't call my mom!”
This time she heard.
Her expression changed.
“Why?”
I looked toward the hallway.
“She'll be mad.”
Sarah stayed silent for several seconds.
Then she placed her palm against the glass.
“Adults can be angry, Maya. That doesn't give them permission to leave you unsafe.”
A siren sounded far away.
I stood.
“No.”
I moved toward the front window.
A sheriff's vehicle turned onto the street.
Behind it came another car.
I recognized it immediately.
Mrs. Henderson.
Our next-door neighbor.
Mom had told me she was visiting family in Texas.
But Mrs. Henderson was getting out of her car.
She hurried toward Sarah.
“What happened?”
Sarah pointed toward our house.
“Maya is inside.”
Mrs. Henderson stared at the windows.
“Alone?”
Sarah nodded.
“Where is Valerie?”
“Hawaii.”
Mrs. Henderson's face changed.
“She told me Maya was at summer camp.”
I stopped breathing.
Summer camp.
Another story.
Another lie.
Deputy Collins stepped out of the sheriff's vehicle.
He was older than I expected, with gray at his temples and a calm manner that somehow made me more nervous.
“I'm Deputy Collins.”
Sarah pointed toward the house.
“She won't open the door.”
He nodded.
Then he walked toward the front entrance.
Three firm knocks sounded.
“Maya?”
I stood in the hallway.
“My name is Deputy Collins. I'm with the sheriff's office.”
I didn't answer.
“I need to make sure you're safe.”
Still nothing.
“I won't force my way in unless there's an emergency.”
I looked at the lock.
My fingers touched it.
Then pulled away.
He waited.
Finally, I moved the chair.
The deadbolt turned.
I opened the door only a few inches.
Deputy Collins stepped backward instead of forward.
That surprised me.
He crouched.
“Hi, Maya.”
I stared at him.
“Is your mother home?”
I shook my head.
“Any other adult?”
Another shake.
“When did she leave?”
“Six days ago.”
His expression changed.
“When is she coming back?”
I swallowed.
“Twenty-four days.”
He stared at me.
“You mean twenty-four more days?”
I nodded.
He glanced toward Sarah.
Then toward the kitchen.
“May I come inside?”
I hesitated.
“Am I going to get arrested?”
“No.”
“Is my mom?”
He didn't rush to answer.
“I don't know what happens next. Right now, I need to make sure you're safe.”
I opened the door.
He stepped inside.
His eyes moved around the room.
The chair.
The empty refrigerator.
The knife I had kept beside the couch.
The notebook.
He didn't say anything for several seconds.
Then he asked, “When did you last eat?”
“Today.”
“What?”
“Bread.”
“And before that?”
I thought.
“Soup yesterday.”
He looked at Sarah.
“Could you get her something?”
Sarah immediately went to her car.
Mrs. Henderson remained near the door.
“Maya, why didn't you come to me?”
“I thought you were in Texas.”
“I came home three days ago.”
I stared at her.
Mom hadn't mentioned it.
Deputy Collins noticed my notebook.
“Can I look at that?”
I pulled it against my chest.
“No.”
He immediately stepped away.
“Okay.”
I stared at him.
Adults usually argued when I said no.
“That belongs to you,” he said. “I won't touch it without your permission.”
My throat tightened.
“It says everything.”
“What does?”
“What happened.”
I opened the notebook.
Day 1.
Mom left.
Called seven times.
No answer.
Day 2.
Spent $19.36.
64 cents left.
Day 3.
Noise outside.
Day 4.
Mom didn't call.
Day 5.
Sarah came.
Day 6.
I think people know I'm alone.
Deputy Collins read quietly.
Then he stopped.
“Does Derek know?”
I shook my head.
“Who is Derek?”
“Mom's fiancé.”
“Do you know how to contact him?”
“No.”
Sarah returned with food.
A sandwich.
Fruit.
Crackers.
Juice.
I ate too quickly.
After three bites, I slowed down because everyone was watching.
“You can finish,” Sarah said.
I wrapped part of the sandwich in a napkin.
“For later.”
“There will be more later.”
I wasn't sure I believed her.
A woman arrived twenty minutes later.
She introduced herself as Elena Martinez from child protective services.
She didn't wear a uniform.
She sat at the kitchen table.
“Maya, I'm going to ask you questions.”
I nodded.
“You don't have to protect anyone while you answer.”
That frightened me.
Because protecting Mom was something I had been doing automatically.
Elena asked about food.
School.
Medicine.
Emergency contacts.
Relatives.
Then she asked about my father.
“I don't know where he is.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Thomas Reed.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No.”
“Has your mother ever left you alone overnight?”
I stared at the table.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Sometimes.”
“For how long?”
“Usually one night.”
“Where would she go?”
“Friends. Sometimes Derek.”
Elena paused.
“Has she ever hurt you?”
I swallowed.
“She slapped me.”
“When?”
“I don't remember.”
I did remember.
I simply didn't want to say.
Elena didn't force it.
Instead, she asked about the bedroom door.
“Mom takes it off sometimes.”
Elena stopped writing.
“The entire door?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“When she's angry.”
“How long?”
“Sometimes a week.”
Deputy Collins looked toward me.
“Could you call anyone when that happened?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She took my phone.”
“Any other phone?”
I shook my head.
Elena looked at the notebook.
“Would you let us photograph some pages?”
“Do I get it back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
I handed it over.
While Deputy Collins photographed the pages, I noticed how carefully he handled them.
As though they mattered.
As though I mattered.
Later that evening, Elena told me I would stay with Sarah temporarily.
I almost cried.
Not because I was sad.
Because someone had finally made a decision that didn't involve leaving me alone.
Sarah drove me home to collect clothes.
Before we left, Deputy Collins asked if I wanted to keep the sixty-four cents.
I closed my hand around the coins.
“Yes.”
At Sarah's house, there was soup.
There were crackers.
There was fresh milk.
There was food everywhere.
I ate slowly this time.
Then I hid three crackers in my pocket.
Sarah saw.
She said nothing.
The next morning, Derek arrived.
His face looked completely different from the photographs I had seen of him with Mom.
He looked exhausted.
“Maya.”
I stayed on the stairs.
He didn't come closer.
“I didn't know.”
I said nothing.
“I swear I didn't know you were alone.”
He pulled out his phone.
“I need you to hear something.”
Deputy Collins immediately stepped forward.
“Only if Maya wants to.”
I looked at Derek.
“What is it?”
“A conversation with your mother.”
My chest tightened.
“You recorded her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After the sheriff contacted me.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked her why she left you alone.”
I gripped the railing.
“What did she say?”
Derek looked down.
“She said you needed to learn independence.”
Nobody spoke.
Then he added, “She said something else.”
He pressed play.
Mom's voice filled the room.
“I gave her money. She has a house. There's food.”
Derek's recorded voice answered.
“She is eleven.”
“So?”
“You left an eleven-year-old alone for thirty days.”
“She can handle herself.”
“You told me Sarah was watching her.”
A pause.
Then Mom laughed.
“Nothing happened.”
Derek stopped the recording.
My stomach twisted.
There it was.
The sentence I had been afraid of.
Nothing happened.
I looked at Elena.
Then at the notebook.
Something had happened.
And now someone knew.
Derek lowered the phone.
“There is more.”
“How much?”
He looked toward me.
“A lot.”
Before he could continue, Deputy Collins' phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“What's wrong?” Elena asked.
He looked at me.
“Your mother just landed.”
My breath caught.
“Here?”
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“She flew back early.”
Derek stood.
“Why?”
Deputy Collins looked toward the front windows.
“Someone at the resort may have told her law enforcement was involved.”
The room went silent.
Then headlights appeared at the end of the street.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: My Mother Returned Furious, But the Paper Hidden Inside Her Suitcase Revealed a Secret She Never Intended Me to Know
She Said I Was Staying With Friends, But By the Third Night I Realized I Was Completely Alone
Part 2 of 20
