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alone, to use the solitude to think.
     After dinner, Ms. Kobayashi and Mr. Schafer led the children to their rooms. Just as they made it to the doors, one child asked the question everyone wanted the answer to. “Where is Mr. Gloome?”
     “He is...” Mr. Schafer said. He glanced over at Ms. Kobayashi.
     “In his office,” she finished. She said no more on the subject.
     
    * * * * *
     
    After she was in her room, Olivia pulled the journal from under her mattress and lay on her bed. She felt a strange need to help everyone. She wanted to walk out of her room and reassure everyone that everything would be just fine, despite how it appeared. But she knew it wasn’t true. No matter how hard we try, we are always going to be doomed here . The thought weighed heavily on her mind. She felt like crying, but she had already done so much of that lately. Suddenly a knock on her door jarred her. She jumped up and scrambled to tuck the journal under her mattress. “C-come in.”
     The door opened and Mr. Dewberry stepped into her room. He carried a tray of Crud and had a few papers tucked underneath one massive arm. Despite his sickly state, Mr. Dewberry was still a hefty man and dwarfed Olivia as he stepped closer. Olivia didn’t know what to think, but she was happy to see him. She offered to let him sit on her bed, because he was bent slightly forward from pain.
     “No, no, lass,” he said softly. “If I sit, I may never get back up.” He tried to laugh, but he stopped suddenly with a grimace. “As ye can see, I’m not in the best o’ shape. Wanted to come up here to give ye a little somethin’.”
     Olivia felt tears forming in her eyes. She could tell that he wasn’t planning on living much longer.
     “Thought ye might be interested in seein’ these,” he said, handing her the stack of papers. “They were torn from yer father’s journal. I’m so sorry that I didn’t give ‘em to ye before. Thought ye’d get the wrong idea about yer parents if ye read those papers at such a young age.”
     Olivia looked down at the papers and saw they were filled with what must have been her father’s handwriting. She couldn’t wait to read them.
     “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Mr. Dewberry. He was smiling at her, his usually jolly red cheeks now just as pale as her own skin. She laid the papers on her bed, walked over to him, opened her arms as wide as they would go, and threw them around his waist. She had never done something like that before, because contact with staff was against the rules, but she knew she needed to do it now. Mr. Dewberry was like a father to her, and she felt close to him.
     “Oho! Look at ye,” he said, patting her back with his free hand. “Ye’ve gone and made me cry.” He sniffed loudly, and Olivia felt a warm tear fall onto her face. “I love ye, lass. Just like ye were one o’ my own. Don’t ye forget that.”
    Olivia was stunned. She had never heard the word love  in her entire life, except when she had read about it in an encyclopedia article that explained the concept of human affection. She began to weep as she felt a new sense of belonging. Her heart ached almost unbearably at the fact that she would soon lose Mr. Dewberry. However, no matter how painful the ache seemed, it was tolerable knowing that he loved her. Mr. Dewberry backed away and looked at her, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his beard. A wide smile spread across his face.
     “Yer lookin’ more an’ more like yer mum, Olivia. Tore her apart to give ye up to this place.” He sighed and shook his head.
     “What was she like?” Olivia asked.
    “Oh, she was a wonderful  person—quick-witted and carin’. She would go to the end o’ the world for you an’ Will.” A fresh stream of tears rolled down his face and his voice broke as he continued. “I miss ‘em lass. If it weren’t for the construction o’ these bloody vaults, I would’ve never had to part ways with ‘em. But