Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

discriminate. It’s there for everyone who is brave enough to look up at it.
Some people lose their way, but that’s not their fault. They’re scared. My
god, of course they are. How could they not be? Everyone loses their way at
some point, and it’s not just because of their mistakes or the decisions they
make. It’s because they’re horribly, wonderfully human. And the one thing
I’ve learned about being human is that we can’t do this alone. When we’re
lost, we need help to try to find our way again. We have a chance here to do
something important, something never done before.”
“We,” the Manager said. “Don’t you mean they? Because, in case you
forgot, you’re dead.”
“I know,” Wallace said. “I know.”
The boy frowned. “I told you once, Wallace. I don’t make deals. I don’t
bargain. I thought we were past that.” He sighed heavily. “I’m so
disappointed in you. I was very clear on the matter. And you talk about the
Husks as if you know anything about them.”
“I’ve seen them,” Wallace said. “Up close. Cameron. I saw what he was,
regardless of what he’d turned into.”
“One,” the Manager said. “You’ve seen one of them.”
“It’s enough,” Hugo said. “More than, even. Because if the rest of the
Husks are anything like Cameron, then they deserve a chance, the same as we
do.” He leaned forward, gaze never leaving the Manager. “I can do this. You
know I can.” He looked around at the others at the table. “We can do this.”
The Manager was silent for a long moment. Wallace had to stop himself
from fidgeting. He barely kept from shouting in relief when the Manager said,
“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”
Closing arguments, but it didn’t come from Wallace. It couldn’t. He
looked to the one person who knew life and death better than anyone else in
the tea shop. Hugo squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it
out slow. “The Husks. Bring them here. Let us help them. They don’t deserve
to stay as they are. They should be able to find their way home like everyone
else.” He glanced at Wallace, who still held onto the table as tightly as he
could. It was getting harder to do. His rear lifted from the chair a few inches,
his knees pressed to the underside of the table, his feet off the floor. And if he
listened hard enough, if he really tried, he could hear the whispers from the
door once more. It was almost over.
The Manager stared at him. “Why would I agree to this?”