The House in the Cerulean Sea(117)

On the twenty-third day after his return from the island, the clacking of computer keys and murmur of voices once again fell silent as a figure appeared in the doorway to the offices of the caseworkers.

Ms. Bubblegum, snapping her gum, clutching a file to her chest.

She glanced over the rows of desks in front of her.

Linus slumped low in his chair. He was about to be sacked, he knew.

He watched as she walked toward Ms. Jenkins’s office. Ms. Jenkins didn’t seem pleased to see her, and her scowl only deepened at whatever question Ms. Bubblegum asked. She responded and pointed out toward the desks.

Ms. Bubblegum turned and made her way through the rows of desks, hips swaying delightfully. Men stared after her. Some of the women did too. She ignored them all.

Linus thought about crawling under his desk.

He didn’t, but it was close.

“Mr. Baker,” she said coolly. “There you are.”

“Hello,” he said, hands in his lap so she wouldn’t see them shaking.

She frowned. “Have I ever told you my name?”

He shook his head.

“It’s Doreen.”

“A pleasure, Doreen.”

She snapped her gum. “I almost believe you. I have something for you, Mr. Baker.”

“Do you?”

She set the file down on his desk, sliding it over in front of him. “Just came down this morning.”

Linus stared down at it.

Doreen leaned over, her lips near his ear. She smelled like cinnamon. She tapped a fingernail on his mouse pad. “Don’t you wish you were here?” He watched as her finger rose to the photograph and traced along the frame. “Huh. How about that?” She kissed his cheek, sticky-sweet and warm.

And then she walked away.

Linus could barely breathe.

He opened the folder.

There was his final report.

And across the bottom were four signatures.

CHARLES WERNER

AGNES GEORGE

JASPER PLUMB

MARTIN ROGERS

And below that was a red stamp.

RECOMMENDATION APPROVED.



He read it again.

Approved.

Approved.

Approved.

This was—

He could—

Did he have enough to see his plan through?

He thought he did.

He stood from his desk, the chair scraping loudly against the cold cement floor.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Ms. Jenkins walked out from her office again, Gunther trailing after.

Approved.

The orphanage would stay as is.

He heard the ocean.

Don’t you wish you were here? it whispered.

Yes.

Yes, he did.

But that was the funny thing about wishes. Sometimes all it took to make them come true was a first step.

He lifted his head.

He looked around.

“What are we doing?” he asked, his voice echoing loudly around the room.

No one answered, but that was okay. He didn’t expect them to.

“Why are we doing this? What’s the point?”

Silence.

“We’re doing it wrong,” he said, raising his voice. “All of this. It’s wrong. We’re feeding a machine that will eat us all. I can’t be the only one who sees that.”

Apparently, he was.

If he were a braver man, maybe he would have said more. Maybe he would have picked up his copy of the RULES AND REGULATIONS and thrown it in the trash, announcing grandly that it was time to toss out all the rules. Literally, but also figuratively.

By then, Ms. Jenkins would be demanding his silence. And, if he were a much braver man, he would have told her no. He would have shouted for all to hear that he’d seen what a world looks like with color in it. With happiness. With joy. This world they lived in here wasn’t it, and they were all fools if they thought otherwise.

If he were a braver man, he would climb up on the desks and crow that he was Commander Linus, and it was time to go on an adventure.

They would come for him, but he’d hop from desk to desk, Gunther squawking as he tried to reach for Linus’s legs but missing.

He would land near the door, this brave man. Ms. Jenkins would scream at him that he was fired, but he’d laugh at her and shout that he couldn’t be fired because he quit.

But Linus Baker was a soft man with a heart longing for home.

And so he went as quietly as he’d arrived.

He picked up his briefcase, opening it on his desk. He placed the photograph inside lovingly before closing it. There were no more files to smuggle out of DICOMY. He had everything he needed.

He took a deep breath.

And began to walk through the aisles toward the exit.

The other caseworkers began to whisper feverishly.

He ignored them, head held high. He barely bumped into any desks.

And just as he reached the exit, Ms. Jenkins shouted his name.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

The expression on her face was thunderous. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” he said simply. “I’m going home.”

And then he left the Department in Charge of Magical Youth for the last time.



* * *



It was raining.

He’d forgotten his umbrella inside.