Earth to Charlie

by Justin Olson

  “Isn’t that right, Charlie?” asks Seth.

  I look over. “Huh?”

  “The weeklong camping trip?”

  “Uh-huh. Wait. What about it?”

  Seth laughs. “We’re going on one. Remember?”

  I nod.

  Jennifer looks excited. “Oh, that sounds like such a good time. What are you two going to do?”

  Seth’s eyes go wide. “Oh, uh . . .”

  My heart races. “We’re just . . . going camping.” I can’t have her knowing about the alien thing.

  “That’s all,” Seth says.

  Jennifer sits back. “Riiiight.”

  My face burns. She suspects something. Oh god.

  The manager/owner/cook/cashier brings the large pepperoni pizza (with anchovies) out to our table. Seth sniffs. “Smells goooooood.”

  “It smells like cat breath,” I say. But I still grab a slice.

  RADIO SILENCE

  • • • • •

  When I get home, I see that my dad is still not home from fishing. Usually he’s home by this hour. Especially because the guys don’t usually fish in the dark.

  I call my dad, and it goes straight to voice mail. I don’t have any of my dad’s friends’ numbers. He might just be at the bar, I figure. My phone rings.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello to you too, Charlie,” Seth says.

  “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”

  “By what?” asks Seth.

  “Nothing. What’s up?”

  “Some bad news . . . My mom isn’t too keen on me being gone for the whole week. She said one night at first, but I got her up to two.”

  “Two nights?” My heart sinks. “That’s hardly anything.”

  “I know. But it took everything I have just to get her up to two nights.”

  Looking around, my kitchen feels so cold and dark. “Okay,” I say. “Two nights.”

  “Everything okay?” asks Seth. “You sound upset.”

  I am upset. First, I think you’re trying to take Jennifer Bennett from me. But second, maybe it’s less about losing Jennifer Bennett than it is about losing you, which confuses me. Third, it feels like everywhere I turn, someone or something is against me. Two nights? How will we ever find aliens? “I’m fine. See you tomorrow morning?”

  Seth starts to say something, but I hang up. The kitchen now looks colder.

  I leave my phone on the counter because I don’t want to talk to Seth. I know he’s going to call repeatedly, which makes me feel guilty for leaving him hanging. I don’t like knowing that someone is worrying or thinking about me if I disappear. It’s a responsibility I don’t think I asked for. Then again, maybe being someone’s friend is pretty much all about responsibility. And if that’s the case, I’m the worst friend in the world, which only makes me feel guiltier.

  I can’t stand being in this house alone, so I head out the back door.

  I see a yellow light coming from Geoffrey’s house.

  * * *

  “Hi, Charlie,” says Geoffrey, sitting on his green couch, TV blaring. “Come on in.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Oh, great. Great.”

  “Been doing the exercises you’re supposed to do?”

  Geoffrey nods. “Every day.”

  A little bell is getting louder, and I smile. “Tickles, come here, boy.”

  Tickles runs in, and I kneel down and pet him. “Missed you,” I say in my doggie/baby voice.

  Geoffrey smiles. “Someday soon I’ll be taking him for a walk.”

  “That’d be great.” I pet Tickles a little more before standing up and brushing my hands off on my pants. “Oh, so I’m going camping this week. Can I take Tickles for two nights? I think he’d like getting out and about.”

  “Tickles would love that.”

  “Cool. Thanks.” I sit on the recliner. “Whatcha watching?”

  “Oh, just this show on World War II pilots.”

  “Can I watch it with you?”

  “Stay as long as you’d like—I’ve got no one to see and nowhere to be.”

  As I watch the black-and-white images of the pilots flying the fighter planes, my mind drifts to Seth. He’s probably calling. And I want to ask him about Jennifer Bennett. They seem so close that I can barely stand it. When did that happen? Where was I? Does he have this whole unknown side to him?

  When I get home, I check my phone. Three calls from Seth and four texts. Nothing from my dad.

  I go up to my room and call my dad. Voice mail again. I call Seth, but hang up before it rings. I decide to text him instead. Hey. Sorry. Was helping Geoffrey and forgot my phone. Tomorrow at 8? My house?

  I feel like you’re mad at me.

  I am. No. I’m good.

  Seriously?

  Seriously. I’d tell you if I was mad.

  Why am I such a coward? This is going to be a long two days. Unless we get visitors. Fingers crossed.

  PART THREE

  LOST POLARIS

  ALL GOOD SUMMER ADVENTURES START WITH AN ALARM

  • • • • •

  I hit my alarm clock and open my eyes. Then I reach for my glasses. It’s six thirty a.m., and the sun is shining through the window. (I stopped closing my blinds after the first time I saw the light. I figured, why close the blinds if all I want to do is see out?)

  Seth is meeting me here at nine a.m. now . . . which took some work on my part, because he wanted to meet at noon after I suggested eight.

  Downstairs I notice the silence and the coffee pot has the same amount of old coffee as the day before. Has he still not returned home?

  At this thought, I walk to his bedroom and find his bed empty. Everything has remained in the same untouched position as the night before: the bedsheets, the half-pulled-out dresser drawer, the half-closed blinds. My heart pangs, and I call him again. But this time I leave a voice mail. “Hey, Dad. This is your son. Charlie. Um. Anyway, I don’t know where you are. Or why you aren’t home. I’m going camping for a couple of days with Seth. I know you haven’t met him, but he’s a good kid. We’ll be back on Wednesday, and I’m hoping you’ll be home then too.” I stare at the nightstand on my mom’s side of the bed, the place where her pictures were, and her jewelry box and some books. Now the nightstand is completely empty as if my dad didn’t want her personal belongings around; as if he didn’t want to be reminded of her.

  I start to feel resentful at the awkwardness of his abandoned bedroom. I reach to press the end button, but stop. “I’m kind of pissed at you. Why did you just disappear? Why are you acting like Mom? I mean, I’m just a kid, for crying out loud. I think some fucking parental guidance isn’t too much to ask for. Or maybe just someone to eat a goddamned dinner with once in a while.” I hang up and slam the door to his bedroom. The old family pictures on the wall outside his room shake. We haven’t taken a new family photo since my mom left. It’s like, when she disappeared, our family did too.

  I open the cupboard and notice that the cereal box is close to empty. I pull out the milk and don’t have enough.

  This is just great.

  HINTS

  • • • • •

  I’m in the garage grabbing the tent, when I stop and think about the purpose of the trip. It’d be better if we just laid out with nothing blocking our view of the stars. So I put the tent back on the shelf.

  I’m outside sitting on the cooler, waiting for Seth. Tickles is curled at my feet. My backpack is stocked with stuff.

  Susan pulls up in her car, and both she and Seth get out. “You must have some magic power, Charlie. I haven’t seen Seth up this early since school ended.”

  Seth yawns a big, wide, attention-getting yawn. He makes a lot of noise.

  “Excited for this, Charlie?” asks Susan. “I made you both some turkey sandwiches—”

  “Lots and lots of turkey sandwiches,” says Seth.

  “I love turkey sandwiches,” I say.

  “I know,” says Seth.

 
“There’s also some chocolate chip cookies—the ones you liked so much, Charlie—and some potato salad and chips. Oh, and I bought a package of hot dogs and buns. There’s also some mustard and ketchup. Did I mention the chips?”

  “Basically we’re packing the kitchen with us.” Seth’s camera hangs around his neck.

  “Funny,” says Susan. “I just want to make sure you’re both prepared. This is actually really dangerous. I don’t want you boys going too far. Your dad knows, I hope?”

  I nod.

  “And do you have a first aid kit?”

  “Uh.” I look at my stuff.

  “I have a spare. Seth, can you grab that from the trunk?”

  “She means she bought one for us.” Seth puts his stuff down on the lawn and goes digging in the trunk of the car.

  “I want you two to be safe. Where are you camping, Charlie? Seth didn’t seem to know many details.”

  “Oh, uh, just up that mountain there.” I point behind me. “Not too far. Maybe a couple of miles in.”

  “Two miles in, max. I want you both to be careful. Hear me? Don’t do anything stupid.” Susan then says quietly, “I can’t believe I’m allowing this.” She turns to Seth. “Come give me a kiss.”

  Seth slouches over.

  “Charlie, I want a hug from you, too.”

  As I release the hug, I say, “Oh, can you tell my grandma what I’m doing and that I’ll see her later this week?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll tell her today. Do you boys have your phones?”

  We both hold out our phones.

  “Of course you do. Seth, I want you to call twice a day. Morning, noon, and night.”

  “That’s three times,” he says.

  Susan glares at him.

  “We might not have reception.” I look at all our stuff and back to Susan.

  “Well, find some. That’s all I ask.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mom. Bye.”

  She nods but stands there a little longer. “Do you boys need anything before I leave?”

  “I think we’ve got it from here,” I say.

  “Yeah. ALL GOOD, Mom.”

  Tickles barks. “Well, I think he’s ready to get going,” I say to Susan more than anyone else.

  “Love you both,” she says. “Be careful.”

  Love you too, Susan. I stand with my hands in my shorts pockets.

  Seth says nothing.

  She gets into her Toyota 4Runner and waves. As she drives away, she honks. Seth turns to me. “She’s literally suffocating me.”

  I laugh, and wonder why I no longer feel as angry at Seth as I did last night. Maybe it’s because he’s still my best friend and we’re getting to go alien hunting.

  “It’s not funny. You don’t live with her.”

  “You say that as if living with her is a bad thing,” I say.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “The alternative would be having no one around.”

  “Oh my god. Sign me up.”

  “Are we ready?” I ask.

  “For a nap? Yes.”

  “Dream on,” I say.

  “That’s what I’m asking for.”

  “Ha-ha,” I say. “So who’s carrying all of this food? There’s only two of us.”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell her!”

  “It’s okay. Deep breaths.”

  He exaggeratedly takes in deep breaths.

  This is going to be fun.

  * * *

  Before we even get to the forest, Seth says, “I’m tired.”

  “We just started.”

  There’s some silence as we keep walking, except for Tickles’s bell ringing, but I even tune that out after a while.

  About a mile in, Seth is complaining that his back hurts from the backpack, so we put the cooler down, since we’re each holding one side, and sit on it.

  I look out to the woods, and I hear a click. I turn and see that Seth has taken a picture of me. I pout.

  “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m the official trip photographer.”

  “No, the memo didn’t come through.”

  “Oh, darn. I guess you’ll just have to put up with me, then.” Seth lightheartedly punches me in the arm.

  “Ow,” I say.

  “That didn’t hurt.”

  “Okay, but I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Expect the unexpected,” he says.

  “What?”

  “That’s it. Expect the unexpected. It’s really the key to life.”

  “What are you, a philosopher now?”

  “Feel free to bow down to the Great Wise Master.”

  I stand up and sling the backpack over my shoulder. “How about I kick the Great Wise One?”

  “Correction: ‘Great Wise Master.’ Not ‘Great Wise One.’ ”

  “Get your great wise ass up so we can continue.”

  Seth crosses his arms and pouts. “I don’t wanna.”

  “Suit yourself. You’ll have to carry the cooler by yourself, then. Come on, Tickles.”

  Seth jumps up. “No, no. Fine. I’m ready.”

  I laugh. “I see that worked.” We pick up the cooler and begin walking. “This thing is heavy.”

  “Those damn turkey sandwiches.” Seth grunts.

  “So I think we’ll have to go more than two miles in. Your mom said—”

  “Don’t worry about that. She’s just a worrier. We have to do right by this trip.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “How would she know? I’ll just tell her what she wants to hear.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Great.”

  “On second thought,” he says, “two miles might be as far as I’m willing to carry this damn thing.”

  FOLLOW THROUGH

  • • • • •

  Pine trees and boulders dot the land. Between the trees and boulders are tall grasses and sagebrush. Though, as we keep walking farther and farther into the deep, the trees are closing in on one another. They’re getting harder to walk through.

  “Are we almost there?” asks Seth, winded.

  “Why don’t we take a break here. Maybe have a turkey sandwich?”

  We lower the cooler. Seth takes off his backpack and crashes to the ground. “You really don’t know how much farther? Why don’t we just stay here?”

  “Why are you so tired? We’ve maybe gone two miles. Three, tops.”

  “I’m not much for all this exercise,” says Seth jokingly. He sits up and drinks some water. “How will we know when we’re there?”

  “Oh, I’ll know the spot.”

  “Ugh,” says Seth. He lies back on the ground.

  “Why don’t you stop complaining and enjoy the adventure?”

  Tickles runs over and sits next to Seth. Seth scratches him behind the ears. “I agree, boy. Charlie is totally torturing us. Yes, I know he’s mean. But we can’t say anything to him or he’ll zap our brains into mush with his alien laser. Shhh! We can’t let him know we’re onto him.”

  I unwrap a sandwich. “Really?”

  Seth looks around. “Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just enjoying the weather.”

  I can’t help but bust out laughing.

  “Throw me one of those sandwiches,” he says.

  I grab one and am turning back to toss it at Seth, when he takes another picture of me. “You need to stop that.”

  “Trip photographer. Sorry not sorry.”

  THE ONE

  • • • • •

  Now my legs are tired, but I don’t tell Seth. We keep trudging on. Deeper and deeper into the woods. Seth’s complaining mostly grew quiet after the fourth mile.

  The world is so quiet. No distant highway noise, no music, no evidence that humans have ever stepped foot on this land before.

  We reach a clearing with nothing but grass, and I stop.

  Looking around, I announce, “This is it.”

  “What?” Seth looks up at me, blinking.

  “This is the spot.”

  Seth’s
eyes spark like a struck match. “Seriously? We made it? Oh my god, I thought we’d never get here. You know? Like I was trapped in one of those circles of hell. ‘Wandering,’ or whatever it’s called.” He drops his stuff.

  Tickles starts to run over to Seth.

  “No, Tickles,” I say. “Don’t get close. You’ll catch Melodrama Fever.”

  Seth runs in a circle, shouting, “This clearing is too small! And it’s not woody enough to be woods! And the world is ending! Ahh!”

  Tickles barks. I boo. “Get off the stage.”

  “I’m hungry,” says Seth, no longer running.

  “We have sandwiches.”

  “I’m already sick of turkey,” he says. “Let’s do something fun.”

  “Okay.” I wait for a suggestion.

  “Oh, uh . . .” Seth looks around. “Hot dogs?”

  “We’d have to build a fire.”

  “Do you know how to do that?”

  “Wait. Don’t you?”

  “I’ve never been camping before. Remember?”

  It really is heretical for someone from Montana to say this, at least out loud. “Weren’t you born in Montana?” I ask.

  Seth looks at me like I’m offending him. “Yes, Charlie. But not everyone born in Montana likes the same things. And I never really had a chance to go camping. Until now.”

  “Okay, sorry.” I get quiet and wander around, collecting twigs.

  Seth comes over to me. “How can I help?”

  “Well.” I look at the ground. “Can you find some rocks to make a fire ring?”

  “Ah? Sure.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll help.”

  Seth smiles. “I trust you.”

  * * *

  Seth is bent over, watching the twigs slowly ignite and the flames grow stronger.

  “This is amazing,” says Seth once the fire is sufficiently burning.

  I add more branches to it.

  Seth leans back. “Ouch.”

  “Don’t sit too close.”

  “How about I sit close to you instead?”

  I look at him and then feel awkward again. I’m not sure why I’m having that feeling around Seth lately. Is it me or him?