Lost in the Moment and Found (Wayward Children, #8)

by Seanan McGuire

She had the vague feeling that sometimes good things were only as good as they were because all the pieces had managed to line up just so, and if you took any of them away, it wouldn’t be good anymore. Maybe not good at all.

It would be years before she realized losing him had taken something less tangible and less provably important away at the same time: the feeling of safety and security in the world, like it was a kind place.

That was the fourth thing she lost: the belief that if something made her unhappy or uncomfortable, she could tell an adult who loved her and they would make everything better.

When Antsy made the lists of things she’d lost, to justify being Lost herself, she didn’t include her belief that adults could be trusted. That thing, out of everything, had been so small and fundamental that she couldn’t even see that it was gone.

She was starting to feel that change was like cookies. One a night would be wonderful, but if you ate too many at one time, you’d wind up making yourself sick and not getting any cookies for a week.

Somewhere in the time between her father’s collapse and now, she realized, she had lost the belief that her mother would always protect her, and somehow that burned the worst of all.

Crying was like anything else; it didn’t matter whether it started all at once, it never stopped that way. Even when the tears were gone and dried and over, there was always snot.

“You’re a child. If an adult hurt you, that’s on them, not on you. Being bruised doesn’t make you bad, unless you’re a peach, and even a bruised peach is good for making jam.”

It’s a terrible thing, to be found.”

That’s one of the things about living in a body. It can change, but the ways it changes today will be the ways it has always been tomorrow. If the modification isn’t noted in the moment, then it can be all too easily dismissed.

“No. Only the ones who aren’t made right for the worlds where they started out need Doors. All children may want them—who doesn’t want a grand adventure? But needing and wanting aren’t the same, and the Doors can see the difference. Some children need to escape from places that will only hurt them, or grind them away until they’re nothing. And some children need to go somewhere else if they’re ever going to grow into the people they were meant to be. The Doors choose carefully.”

Just looking for something lost doesn’t make you Lost yourself.”

This girl didn’t know what it was to be lost herself, to feel like the world was set against her, to be hurt.

The great tale of her being shall be extended no more; she is gone to the Library where all of us must one day be Returned, and she will pay no overdue fines on her soul.