Page 25 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Nineteen

A Bird Behind Glass

Five days in the House of Quiet, and Birdie’s no closer to getting into the House Wife’s room.

No matter what Birdie does, Rabbit is the only one the House Wife ever takes.

Birdie can’t understand why, either. That night when Rabbit seemed drunk and Birdie, Minnow, and Forest went out of their way to protect her?

That’s just Rabbit’s demeanor. The bright-eyed, eager attitude when they first met was a performance.

The real Rabbit is withdrawn and lethargic.

She sleepwalks through meals, barely says or eats anything, and does no work for the rest of the house.

Maybe the House Wife’s demands are so strenuous that it’s all Rabbit can do to stumble to bed afterward, but Rabbit won’t say anything about what she does in there.

She always pretends to be too tired to remember.

Birdie knows bone-deep exhaustion. She’s worked until her fingers cramped and wouldn’t move.

She’s scrubbed on hands and knees on floors so cold she couldn’t walk after and had to crawl to bed.

She’s still never been too tired to remember what she did that day.

Birdie regrets protecting Rabbit, and now she’s lost her chance because the House Wife doesn’t seem to care how incompetent Rabbit is.

The House Wife herself is so strange, she probably doesn’t even notice.

And if she’s slipped into Birdie’s room in the middle of the night again and found Birdie absent, well, she doesn’t seem to care about that, either.

Other than Rabbit, Sky’s the only person who gets through the House Wife’s door.

Birdie wouldn’t have asked him questions about his treatment regardless, but he gives her the same wide berth he has since that second morning.

Nimbus had a science lesson once with magnets.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get two of the ends to stick.

They repelled each other with too much force.

It’s like Birdie is that opposite magnet forSky.

She knows opposite magnet isn’t the right term. Hawthorn would correct her with a single raised eyebrow. But he’s not here. If only Birdie could write to Dr.Bramble and tell him about the opening for a tutor. Doubtless Hawthorn could get Sky to tell him all about the treatment.

Then again, maybe not. Because Sky’s different in general. Birdie watched this morning as Minnow accidentally touched Sky’s arm. He barely flinched, and he didn’t yell at her at all. He doesn’t seem exhausted so much as drained. Whatever the treatment is, it isn’t easy on him.

If Birdie could just see the treatment, maybe she’d have some answers.

About what was wrong with Magpie when she came here, about what was done to fix it, about where Magpie went afterward.

But whomever the House Wife treats after Sky will be someone who likes Birdie.

Someone who will gladly answer her questions. She’s made sure of it.

She pauses sweeping to peer in on Nimbus and Dawn.

Dawn spends most of her time with him, happily reading aloud or drawing or telling her endless stories.

Birdie can’t tell if it’s helping, but it’s not hurting.

Nimbus hasn’t scared them again since that last time, and he hasn’t been wandering around at night.

Dawn notices Birdie and waves.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on him,” Birdie says. “And please save a story for this afternoon when I’m cleaning in here. I want to know what happens to Princess Solstice’s flying horse after her evil sister Hurricane used her terrible mind-control powers to convince the horse to be hers instead.”

“You won’t believe it!” Dawn promises.

Spurred by the girl’s borrowed happiness, Birdie sneaks into the greenhouse for the best part of her day.

Other than Sky and Rabbit, they’ve all become a strange sort of society in just a few days.

Dawn has taken Nimbus under her wing. Everyone watches out for Lake and helps her when she does things like walk into walls and then angrily shout that there isn’t a wall there at all.

River took over the kitchen—Cook is always drunk now—and the older teens sneak out every night for companionship and card games.

That isn’t the only sneaking, though. Every day around this same time, River and Minnow steal outside for walks. They think no one notices, because they don’t know that every day around this time, Birdie meets Forest on their bench in the greenhouse.

He holds out the candy tin as she sits next to him.

“Did I miss them?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“Oh, good.” Soon, the mist swirls, announcing the arrival of their friends. River dances in circles around Minnow in contrast to Minnow’s utilitarian march.

Birdie shifts into her Minnow voice, low and impatient. “Please don’t interrupt me; I need to concentrate on walking.”

Then she switches into her lilting, musical River voice. “But you look so pretty when you’re cross! And you’re always cross, so you’re always pretty, which is why I simply must always look atyou.”

Back to Minnow’s voice. “If you insist on being in love with me, the least you could do is make it worth my while by cleaning the toilets.”

This earns a surprised laugh from Forest. It fills Birdie more than Dawn’s contagious emotions. That’s her real goal here. Not making up conversations between River and Minnow, but trying to get Forest to laugh. He still hasn’t said a word, but his laugh is enough.

Minnow and River are past them now, her game won for the day. Birdie leans back with a sigh.

“So,” she says, continuing her one-sided conversation from the day before.

That’s part of what makes being with Forest so easy—he doesn’t talk, so she doesn’t have to be reminded that she’s treating him like a friend instead of someone far above her station.

“I can’t get a coherent answer from Lake, but I know Nimbus’s mother employed a lady’s maid with abilities.

I never met his childhood nanny, and I know his tutor has no abilities.

” She holds back a scowl. She should be grateful to Hawthorn for introducing her to Dr.Bramble, but he was there when she was preparing to be picked up by the carriage.

His condescending tone informing her of what she was to do and look for—as if she didn’t already know—still makes her angry.

People like Hawthorn are too often cruel.

They can’t stand to look at someone like Birdie without remembering they’re closer in station to her than they are to the wealthy they imitate.

But Birdie might still need Hawthorn once she finds out where Magpie is. If she ever sees him again, she’ll curtsy and act as though he really is better than she is, because that’s what he needs to believe.

Birdie clears her throat and moves on. “Then there’s River.

She said there were two employees with abilities in her household.

Both worked exclusively for her father. She had minimal contact with them.

I haven’t talked to Sky—have you noticed he always has to be on the opposite side of the kitchen from me?

But we can assume his circumstances were similar.

And your household had people with abilities, but not your nanny or a nurse when you were younger, or your tutor when you were older, correct? ”

Forest nods.

Birdie toys with the stair key in her apron pocket, frowning at the greenery around them.

“That’s why Minnow’s theory doesn’t make sense to me.

Why would you catch something? Surely if it were that contagious, family members living with people who had the procedure would develop abilities.

Unless they’re hiding their abilities, which doesn’t make sense.

Once you’re on the Ministry’s registry, you get placed in jobs.

Why avoid that?” Birdie sighs, shifting to face Forest. “But I have no other theories. Unless you somehow forgot visiting the city and undergoing the procedure in the enormous Ministry building belching black smoke into the sky like a dragon?” Birdie heard once that half the coal coming into Sootcity went into the machine for the procedure.

She always wondered how much of the soot coating her clothes at the end of the day meant that some new child had the means to provide for their family.

The cost of progress , her father always said.

Smoke that got into lungs and suffocated weak babies and frail elders.

It wasn’t the only source, but it was by far the worst. And still Birdie was happy taking in lungfuls of it, imagining that someday the smoke she breathed would be the smoke that meant Magpie was extraordinary.

Forest squinches his face in a pantomime of being deep in thought, then relents and shakes his head.

“Any theories you care to share?” Birdie teases, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Forest frowns, then abruptly stands and walks out of the greenhouse.

Panic squeezes Birdie’s chest. She hasn’t touched him like that before.

It was inappropriate. And teasing him was cruel of her.

It’s inexcusable how comfortable she’s let herself get.

What was she thinking, crossing these lines?

Treating him like a friend? Maybe more than a friend.

But he’s not her friend. He never could be.

And she can’t afford to spend her time like this. Sitting with Forest makes her happy, and she doesn’t deserve to be happy, because it doesn’t bring her any closer to finding Magpie.

Her worst fear is that Magpie really did come here, and she really did get the treatment, and she really did get better.

But because Birdie never stopped at home to talk to her parents, because she hates them so much for what they did, she missed the news that Magpie was home.

They could have passed on the road, Birdie coming in and Magpie going out.

The image of Magpie sitting at home, eating supper with their parents, all of them wondering where Birdie is makes Birdie both want to laugh and scream.

She has no way of getting word, either. All her hope and striving and deception and risk, and she’s still nothing but a maid without a sister.

Maybe not even a maid, if she keeps forgetting her place.

Birdie hangs her head, defeated. A shadow looms over her. Birdie looks up to see Forest holding a thick book.

“You want to read?” she asks. That’s why he left?

He shakes his head and sits next to her. Her relief is immediate and nearly overwhelming. He’s not mad at her. She hasn’t ruined the best part of her life here.

Forest opens the book, searching. Then he points emphatically at the page number.

“Fourteen?” Birdie asks.

He’s watching her carefully, like he’s waiting for some extreme reaction or change. When none comes, he nods and moves on, looking for more words and pointing to them. Eventually, he’s built a whole sentence.

Fourteen very ill just before change

“Are you saying you got sick first? Before your ability appeared?”

He nods, relieved that she understands.

“Maybe there’s something there. Thank you for telling me. But…you can’t just write this out?” Birdie had actually assumed that Forest never learned to read or write. It would be surprising for someone from his background, but not unheard of. Most everyone in the lower quarters never learns.

Then the more likely explanation washes over her with a surprising burst of humiliation and sharp regret. He probably assumed she couldn’t read or write. And she’s just given away the fact that she can.

Forest shakes his head in answer to her question.

“Why not?” Birdie asks, tired and sad and frustrated with herself and the house and the entire world.

He looks in the book again, until at last he finds the word he needs. He taps it three times.

Dangerous.