the door. The other five beds were made, each with a single teddy or doll leaned against the head board. But I couldn’t see Michael’s bunny anywhere.

The windows were open. A breeze moved the drapes and blew in the sounds of children playing from the yard. Sister Mary Sacred Heart was on minding duty. She sat in a rocking chair outside with her back facing me. I crouched behind the window drape and stared outside.

Michael wasn’t there either. There was nothing in the yard big enough for him to hide behind. Sister Mary Sacred Heart carried on rocking slowly, her chin touching her chest while she read.

I glanced back at Michael’s empty cot. The mattress had a stained rubber sheet over it. Something stuck out from underneath. It was pale and small, with worn stitch...

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