I don't own the characters of organizations in this story. They belong to Lemony Snicket and Daniel Handler, but you already knew that.

Chapter One

Though the words hostile and hostel sound very much alike and are easy to confuse, they have entirely different meanings. Whereas hostile means characteristic of an enemy, hostel refers to a supervised, inexpensive lodging for young travelers. It was Klaus who had named Lemony Snicket's two-bedroom apartment "the hostel." After publishing the books that cleared both his and the Baudelaires' names and sent Count Olaf into hiding, Lemony had offered his apartment to the Baudelaire and Quagmire orphans. Though the apartment was still kept in Snicket's name and he paid the rent; for him it was more of a storage area than a permanent dwelling. He would often stop in to pick up important papers or drop of photographs and maybe even spend a couple of nights on the couch. However, his work, tracking down Count Olaf while researching various varieties of villainy kept him away most of the time. Justice Strauss used to spend every free moment at the apartment to act as a supervisor to the children, but she soon realized that these young ones had taken care of themselves in more dire circumstances than a small apartment with a leaking sink. So her visits soon became much less frequent and much more lighthearted. All in all, the hostel was a cozy place. Though it was difficult for five teenagers and a very mature child to share the same bathroom, the place was warm, dry and quiet, and the company was wonderful. Nonetheless, the children knew it was merely a stopping point and not a permanent dwelling. Soon they would be moving on from this lodging, and this particular day signified that very event.

If you've ever been to a birthday party you know that there are three essentials that are almost always at hand: cake, singing and presents. If you have never been to a birthday party then I am very sorry. Four of the children at this party were singing loudly and slightly off key. Violet was looking modestly at her lap and Sunny was carrying a large chocolate cake that she had just frosted that morning. At the young age of five, Sunny was easily the best cook at the apartment. This is not to say that the others were terrible; in fact Isadora Quagmire could whip up the most wonderful tuna noodle casserole, but rather that Sunny had spent so much time and effort on her art that she had turned herself into quite the prodigy. She proudly laid the cake on the table before Violet. There were no candles as fire was viewed with suspicion and fear by everyone at he hostel.

Once the song was over Quigley read the letters scrawled in purple script, "Happy 18th Birthday, Violet!" The children cheered as Isadora cut the cake and Klaus plopped ice-cream onto plates.

"Sunny, this cake is delicious," declared Violet.

"Ummm Hmmm," mumbled Klaus in between bites, "And your writing is really coming along. We could all make out the frosting letters this time, and not just because we knew what they should say."

As Sunny replied with a confident, "thank you," the conversation shifted to the birthday girl and her many achievements. There was much to talk about. Violet had been named head inventor in charge of new machinery at V.F.D. just that day. She would graduate from High School soon and had received scholarship offers from many prestigious universities. Though the children knew she would study at V.F.D. and dedicate herself full time to the Volunteers, the scholarships triangulated Violet's intelligence and hard work. Triangulate is a word that means proved something that many people already knew. It comes from nautical language describing a situation in which navigators at two locations are used to judge the location of a ship. One navigator would triangulate the findings of the other; just as each new honor Violet received triangulated the children's high opinion of her talent. These wonderful events kept the young people from mentioning an enormous change that would affect all of them this day, the change they had been anticipating for quite some time.

Once everyone was full of sugar they moved to the living room to lounge on couches, and more comfortable chairs while Violet opened her presents. Klaus and Sunny had gotten her a tool kit that she had been eyeing for quite some time. Duncan had found a great book on the life of Thomas Edison.

"You probably already know everything in that book," he added sheepishly.

"No," countered Violet. "I'm sure there's some new information. I can always pick up something new. It really is a great book."

Isadora had found a wonderful black purse that was large enough to carry a novel and the oldest Baudeliare's commonplace notebook. She began to keep the notebook after her work with V.F.D. became more official.

Quigley's gift was perhaps the most surprising. It was an amethyst necklace and matching earrings. "Oh, Quigley, you shouldn't have."

"Do you like them?"

"Of course. They're beautiful, but they must of cost a fortune."

"Well. . ." Quigley smiled and looked down. Though each of the children had a fortune tucked away for them, no one could access it until he or she turned eighteen. Violet wondered if Quigley had managed to save his bank allowances, or had been working to earn extra money on the side. He was often missing from the hostel, but with school and training, no one was ever there all the time. The oldest Baudelaire looked down into the small box and noticed a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Oh, it's just a poem I ran across in the library," remarked Quigley casually. "I thought you might like it."

"Read it," demanded Isadora.

"Okay," Violet unfolded the paper slowly and began to read.

Alone

By Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking

Last night

How to find my soul a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don't believe We're wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out away alone.

Now if you listen closely

I'll tell them what I know

Storm clouds is gathering

The wind is gonna blow

The race of man is suffering

And I can hear the moan,

Cause nobody,

But anybody

Can make if out here alone.

Alone, all unaided

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

"I love Maya Angelou!" exclaimed Isadora.

"Yeah, that was great," said Sunny.

"Sounds like you got a typo in the second to last stanza," Duncan piped in. "It should be it, not if."

"Oops, my mistake," said Quigley, but he was looking hard at Violet as if he was trying to tell her something. The oldest Baudelaire had always had a felling that the Quagmire triplet liked her, but since that afternoon, years ago when they had climbed the frozen waterfall, nothing had happened between them. Maybe it was the others that made him nervous, or maybe their close living quarters were problematic. Still, Violet thought Quigley might be trying to tell her more than the poem indicated.

At that moment the ring of a doorbell jostled Violet from her thoughts. Klaus walked over to the call button and pressed it.

"Hello?"

"Hello. . cough. . . cough," came the voice over the intercom system.

"Mr. Poe," smiled Klaus, "just a minute, I'll buzz you in."