She sits by the wall with her bear in her lap and her shoes pressed against her chest. The big voices have stopped, but Mommy has not come looking. She knows this spot belongs only to her now. No one else knows about it. She decides right then that when the baby comes, she will keep it secret. The wall is made of different colored bricks that feel rough when she touches them. Some are dark red, some are lighter pink, some are brown like dirt. She counts them sometimes when her tummy hurts. There are three loose bricks near the bottom where the wall meets the floor, and behind them is a space just big enough for hiding things. She pulls one brick out and reaches into the dark. The doll is in there, the one with the cracked face that Grandma said was too broken to play with. She pulls it out and holds it next to her bear. The doll's eyes look at nothing, not like the bear who watches her when she cries. She puts the doll back in the hole and pushes the brick into place. That is where the doll lives now. Only she knows it is there. She looks at the playpen across the room where the baby will go when she comes home. That is where babies belong, in that pen with the soft blanket. But there is also the spot by the door where someone left a mess on the floor that no one has cleaned up yet. She stares at the brown pile and decides. The baby can have that spot too. The baby can have the playpen and the dirty floor, but the wall belongs to her. She holds her bear tighter and puts her shoes back on her feet. The wall will always be hers alone.