Deep beneath the squeaky floorboards of Grandma Rosa’s house, where the air smelled of old books and cinnamon, there was a secret. A creaky, crackly secret—Santiago had found the door to the Underground World of Lost Objects.

One rainy afternoon, while hunting for his missing toy dinosaur (the one with the wonky tail), Santiago’s fingers brushed against something cold. Clink! A tiny brass knob, hidden under the rug. He tugged. The floor groaned like a sleepy bear, and—WHOOSH!—a gust of wind smelling of wet wool and bubblegum rushed up, ruffling his hair. Down he tumbled, landing with a plop on a pile of something squishy. Socks. Hundreds of them. Striped, polka-dotted, and one with a hole so big it looked like it had been gnawed by a very hungry mouse.

"Welcome, Santiago," said a voice, soft as a kitten’s purr. A single sock—bright red with yellow stars—unfurled from the pile and wiggled toward him. It had googly eyes stuck on with what looked like dried glue. "I’m Captain Stripe. We’ve been waiting for you."

Santiago’s mouth hung open like a drawbridge. "You—you talk?"

"Of course!" Captain Stripe did a little jig, the googly eyes bouncing. "We’re all lost things here. But we’re not just lost. We’re waiting. For someone brave enough to tell the truth." The sock’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Even when it’s hard."

Santiago’s stomach did a flip. He knew exactly what truth the sock was talking about. Yesterday, he’d accidentally knocked over Grandma Rosa’s favorite vase—the blue one shaped like a swan. He’d hidden the pieces under the couch, and now his insides felt like they’d been stuffed with wriggly worms. Squirm. Squirm.

"But—what if the truth is bad?" he asked, kicking at a lone button with his toe. It skittered away like a frightened beetle.

Captain Stripe sighed, the googly eyes drooping. "Then it’s bad. But hiding it? That’s like trying to stuff a hippopotamus into a teacup. It just makes everything worse."

Just then, a CRASH! echoed through the cavern. A teacup—pink with gold edges—came flying out of the shadows, followed by a very flustered-looking spoon. The spoon was bent in the middle, like it had been sat on by an elephant. "I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T DO IT!" the spoon shrieked. "I was in the drawer the whole time! But noooo, everyone blamed me for the missing cookies!"

Santiago gasped. "That’s not fair!"

"Exactly!" The spoon jabbed the air with its handle. "And now I’m bent! I’ll never stir tea properly again!"

Captain Stripe nodded. "See, Santiago? Lies and blame—they twist things up. Like a yo-yo with its string all tangled."

Santiago’s fingers curled into fists. The wriggly worms in his stomach were now doing somersaults. He took a deep breath—the air smelled like burnt toast and honesty—and said, "I broke Grandma Rosa’s vase. I hid the pieces. I’m sorry."

The Underground World of Lost Objects fell silent. Even the socks stopped wiggling. Then—POP!—a tiny light bulb flickered to life above Santiago’s head. Not a real one. A feeling one. Warm and bright, like sunshine on a winter morning.

Captain Stripe grinned. "There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

The bent spoon clapped its bowl against its handle. Clink-clank! "I forgive you! Now, let’s get you home before Grandma Rosa notices you’re gone!"

With a whoosh and a squeak, Santiago was lifted back through the floorboards. He landed with a thump in Grandma Rosa’s kitchen, the smell of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapping around him like a hug. Grandma Rosa was humming, her back turned as she stirred a pot of something delicious.

Santiago took a deep breath. "Grandma? I have to tell you something."

She turned, wooden spoon in hand, and smiled. "Yes, my little explorer?"

"I broke your swan vase. I’m really, really sorry."

Grandma Rosa’s eyebrows lifted. Then she set down the spoon and knelt in front of him. "Oh, Santiago. I knew it was you." She tapped his nose. "But I’m proud of you for telling me."

"You… you’re not mad?"

"Mad?" She chuckled. "I’m relieved! I thought the cat had done it. Now, help me find the glue, and we’ll fix it together."

As they pieced the swan back together, Santiago’s heart felt light as a feather. The Underground World of Lost Objects had taught him a secret: the truth wasn’t a monster under the bed. It was more like a lost sock—awkward at first, but once you found it, everything fit just right.

And somewhere below the floorboards, Captain Stripe and the bent spoon high-fived. Clink!