The Boy Named No: Inklet, #46

By Liana Brooks

Matron Rus, stern but kindly head of the orphanage, is vexed. A child is gone. Justice missed roll call—again—and this time, she can't find hide or hair of him on the orphanage grounds.

She desperately wants him to give up his search for the family that abandoned him, to let himself belong here. But raising Justice takes more wisdom than she could ever have imagined.

A wistful story about the importance of family and belonging, for everyone who knows—or can imagine—the complications of raising children.

 

1700 words / shapeshifter science fiction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkprint Press
• Release date: Nov 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393444459

Liana Brooks

Liana Brooks once read the book GOOD OMENS by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and noted that both their biographies invited readers to send money (or banana daiquiris). That seems to have worked well for them. Liana prefers strawberry daiquiris (virgin!) and will never say no to large amounts of cash in unmarked bills. Her books are sweet and humorous with just enough edge to keep you reading past your bedtime. Liana was born in San Diego and in addition to there has lived in Illinois, Colorado, Florida, Texas, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Kansas. We'd like to tell you where she is right now, but last we checked she was researching books on both Alaska and Africa. Not only are the bookstore algorithms breaking trying to track this lady, but we can't tell you where to mail that daiquiri. Your best bet is to try Twitter where you can often find @LianaBrooks talking about her four kids, her giant dog, and plans for world domination.

Book preview

The Boy Named No

INKLET #46

––––––––

AMY LAURENS

www.InkprintPress.com

The Boy Named No

Two straight lines of unwanted waifs stood at military attention by their cots. Matron L. R. Rus’ heels clicked as she marched down the rows, inspecting hospital corners, checking under the beds for debris, ordering hands held out so she could verify they were properly scrubbed.

The last cot stood alone, blankets folded at the end of the bed where the orderly had placed them the night before. The cot’s tow-headed owner was missing.

Again.

Matron Rus scowled. Justice Saber Rus, get out here this instant! Not expecting much, she checked under the bed. Nothing. A twinge of clan pride kept her from screaming. He was a Rus; even if he was unwanted, at least he was intelligent.

She eyed his footlocker, then, with practiced ease, overrode his lock code. Shredded uniforms and a shredded gray bag.

Frustration boiling over, she turned to the boy across the aisle. Where is Justice?

He left last night, ma’am.

She scrolled through her mental list