The Memory Keeper

by Jennifer Camiccia

  Gram blinks. I wonder if her memory is anything like mine at all. If she has to flip through scenes of the day before she finds the right one. Or are the scenes out of order—with some erased altogether?

  “Did I leave him alone?” Her voice is small and scared, so un-Gram-like that her fear leapfrogs to me.

  “I have it under control,” I say. “You need to stay with us until I have this figured out, okay? And you need to help me put the pieces together. Can you do that?”

  “What pieces?” She lets me lead her back inside the house. Her feet shuffle as if she’s even forgotten how to walk.

  “Of your past, Gram. I need to help you remember.”

  I bring her to the couch, where Clay is curled up with his blanket. He scoots over to Gram and climbs into her lap. “Hello, sweetheart,” she coos. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  I motion to Olivia to follow me to the kitchen. I don’t need to scare Gram more than she already is.

  “What just happened?” Olivia asks.

  “She doesn’t remember things sometimes.” I shrug and try to act like it’s no big deal, even though my eyes still burn with unshed tears. Telling her feels like a betrayal to Gram. Can I really trust Olivia with this?

  “Like she’s losing her memory?” Olivia gasps and twirls around. “What if Yakov finds out? What if he, like, tries to shut her up before she says the wrong thing?”

  “Why would he do that? We have no idea who he even is. He could just be a friend.”

  Olivia snorts. “A friend? You’re kidding, right? He’s way too scary to be a friend. He’s definitely threatening her or something. Or maybe he’s her handler, like Max said.”

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone.” My heart thunders as if we’re still running from Yakov. What will I do if she says no? What will happen if everyone finds out? How will I protect Gram then?

  She doesn’t say anything for a long minute. I bite my lip.

  Olivia finally nods. “Of course I won’t. I promise.”

  Gram calls to me. I motion for Olivia to follow. Maybe with her here, I can put the puzzle together faster.

  I sit next to Gram and reach for her hand. I try to show her with my smile that she’s safe, that I love her. I need her to tell me what she knows, and I can’t let my fear get in the way of finding the truth. “Let’s talk about Jacob. You walked on the icy lake with him.” I try to keep my voice from shaking. “Gram, was that in… Russia?”

  I hold my breath as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  20. Dendrites

  We have trees in our cells called dendrites. Well, not real trees, but they look enough like them. They’re like tiny computers, multiplying the brain’s processing power and bringing information to the cell body. If they aren’t activated, then a memory might not be stored. The neurons (or brain cells) fire up depending on the thought or action going on, and an electric spark activates the neuron. If the dendrite doesn’t receive this nerve impulse, then the memory isn’t stored. We experience something, but we might not remember it.

  * * *

  Gram nods automatically, her eyes out of focus. “Yes. In Moscow.”

  Olivia gasps, her eyes wide. It’s one thing to make a guess and another thing for it to be true. Finally I’m getting somewhere.

  “What happened with Jacob in Moscow?” I squeeze her hand.

  Gram’s voice takes on the same singsongy quality as before. “My mama worked at the American embassy. Sometimes she brought me so I could practice my English. She insisted I learn, but I couldn’t tell Papa. He hated everything American—but he liked the extra money she made there.

  “Her American boss, Mark, let me borrow as many books as I wanted. He was a good man—so kind. When Mama worked, I would read to her. I asked her if she thought Mark was nicer than Papa.

  “ ‘There is no one like your papa,’ she said.

  “It was true. My papa was so handsome that women stopped and stared at him when he walked by. But he never looked back. He only had eyes for Mama.

  “After I helped Mama clean the last room that day, Mark got me ice cream and let me look at all the books in his library. They left me alone for a long time. Afterward I asked Mama where they were. She told me it was a secret—a secret from everyone—and the look she gave me was one I’d never forget. The other questions froze inside me, thicker than the ice on the lake.

  “But I told Jacob—even though I wasn’t supposed to—because I always told Jacob everything. He’d brought me cookies his mama made, the powdered-sugar ones I loved best. They melted in my mouth and made all the frozen secrets melt with it.”

  Gram smiles, her face transforming to one of delight. She reaches in front of her as if she is touching something. She keeps talking, caught up in the story she’s reliving.

  “He said it was to make me feel better, and I pointed to his split lip and his swollen cheek. I told him I was the one who should be trying to make him feel better. I could only imagine how much his cheek hurt and his lip burned whenever he spoke.” Gram touches her cheek with a grimace.

  “He said that his papa couldn’t hurt him. And he said it almost as if he really believed it. I wanted to distract him from the pain, so I told him about learning English. I promised to help teach him, and he promised to keep my secret. I taught him the English word for ‘friend,’ and when he said it, he smiled past his sore lip. I knew then that I did the right thing, even though I’d promised Mama not to tell.

  “After that Papa took me to visit Mama in the hospital.”

  “Your mama?” I ask with a frown. “Don’t you mean Jacob’s?”

  Gram closes her eyes briefly. “Yes… yes, of course I meant Jacob’s mama. I… I barely recognized her. Her jaw was broken and her eyes swollen almost completely shut. I cried for her, but I cried for Jacob more. He was all alone with his papa. He said he wasn’t scared, but I knew he must be. I could see it in the way he flinched at every sound.”

  “Yikes,” Olivia whispers. “Poor Jacob.”

  I widen my eyes at her and put a finger across my lips, but Gram doesn’t seem to hear Olivia. She continues with her story, her gaze briefly meeting mine.

  “My mama’s boss, Mark, came to my school soon after that day. He said he needed me to give Mama a message. He made me memorize it instead of writing it down.” Gram pinches the bridge of her nose briefly, like she does when her head hurts. “When I gave Mama the message from Mark, she cried. I didn’t know why then. I’m not sure I would have told her if I knew—”

  A knock on the front door interrupts Gram. She looks up and blinks me into focus. “Answer the door, Lulu.”

  I grit my teeth and stomp to the front door. Max is on the other side with a huge grin.

  “Hey,” he says. “I found something.”

  I try to shake off my impatience.

  He looks past me and nods at Olivia. “ ’Sup?”

  Olivia pulls us into a huddle in the middle of the entryway. “Her gram is telling us about Russia. She totally admitted she used to live there.”

  I glance over my shoulder. The living room is around the corner. “We should get back in there. I want to see if she’ll keep talking.”

  “I can wait here,” Max says.

  “You might as well come in,” I say. “She’s going to ask who’s here and then probably try to feed you.”

  Sure enough, Gram tries to stand when she sees Max. “Hello, dear. Come in. Are you hungry?”

  Sorry, Max mouths to me as we follow Gram into the kitchen.

  She’s still shaky, so I stay close. “I think you should sit down,” I say softly. “I can get Max something.”

  Gram starts to argue but suddenly goes blank. She stares off into the distance before she looks back at me. “Where’s Jacob?” she asks in a little-girl voice. The one she uses when she tells me her stories.

  Max’s eyebrows disappear into his hair, and Olivia’s eyes go wide.

  “He’s not here,” I say, leading her to a kit
chen chair. “Can you get her some water?” I ask Olivia. I sit next to Gram and keep hold of her hand.

  Olivia hurries to the cabinet, whispering something to Max on her way back. I try to focus on Gram and not on what they might be thinking.

  “Jacob told me he’s going away,” Gram says in a hushed whisper. “His mama is leaving his papa. They can’t tell anyone where they’re going because Jacob’s papa works for the government. If they stay in Russia, he’ll find them anywhere they go. And he’ll kill them. I know he will. I’ve seen the darkness in his eyes.” She clutches at my arm, her nails digging so deep that I wince. But I don’t say a thing. I let her talk.

  “Jacob’s my best friend. I can trust him with any secret I have. Who will I talk to now? Who will I trust?”

  “You can trust me,” I say, but I’m not sure she hears.

  “Jacob promises to find me one day. We set up a way to find each other. A way no one will ever find out about. And one day we’ll be together again.”

  A tear slowly trails down one of her cheeks. I look back at Max and Olivia, and both of them stare at Gram with wide eyes.

  “Lulu?” Gram wipes at her tear. “Why am I crying?”

  “You’re crying for Jacob,” I say as gently as I can.

  She frowns and straightens into her normal ramrod posture. Her gaze sweeps around the kitchen. “Olivia and Max. How nice to see you both. If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Clay. Who knows what the little terror is getting into.”

  Before I can protest, she pulls her hand from mine and hurries out of the kitchen.

  “That was…” Olivia waves her arms around her like she’s getting ready to dance.

  “Super intense,” Max finishes. He tucks his hands in his pockets. “You okay, Lulu?”

  I shrug and pull out the notebook I keep on the counter. I begin to write down everything Gram’s just told me. Just in case I forget. It isn’t likely, but then again, I didn’t think I’d find out my gram grew up in Russia and might be a spy. I’m not too sure of anything anymore.

  I can sense Max and Olivia staring at me. I’ve tried so hard to keep this from everyone, but it’s sort of a relief to have them know about Gram’s memory. Both of them wait patiently for me to finish. Neither one makes a move to leave.

  21. Engram Cells: The Brain Instagram

  There are neurons called engram cells. Once these cells learn something new, they change, and then they go to different parts of our brains to hang out. Like when I was three and accidentally touched Mom’s curling iron. My brain took a picture of the curling iron and posted it on my brain Instagram: my engram cells.

  At first the engram cells in my short-term memory were the ones that reminded me to stay away from the long black thing plugged into the wall in the bathroom. Like when I post something on my story and it’s only there for a day. But eventually the ones in my long-term memory remind me to use a glove and take my time when I curl my own hair. Like those pictures I took last year that will be on my Instagram until I’m old and in my twenties.

  * * *

  If I can find a way to tap into Gram’s engram cells, maybe I can fix her. The trick is to figure out how to do it and keep her trust. I hope Max and Olivia will help.

  Olivia smiles tentatively at me. “I’m sorry about your gram. I feel really bad about her friend Jacob. Do you think she ever saw him again?”

  “I don’t think so. My dad’s never heard of him and I can’t find anything else about him, but I haven’t finished going through all the albums.”

  Max unfolds a paper he’s fished out of his back pocket. “This is what I found out about that dude you met this morning. If you still want it, I mean.”

  My hand doesn’t move to take it; I just stare at it like it’s a snake that might bite me. Olivia takes it instead. “ ‘Yakov Zhabin immigrated here from Moscow,’ ” she reads out loud. “ ‘He was in the Russian military, then went to college here and started a successful import business. He has a wife and two sons.’ ”

  Olivia looks up. “The army must be where he got all those tattoos. And it doesn’t say he’s a doctor.”

  “Maybe he’s in the Russian mafia,” Max says. “I’m pretty sure tattoos are their thing too.”

  “Duh, Max,” Olivia says, hands on her hips. “Of course he’s in the mafia.”

  “So, because he has tattoos he’s in the mafia, and if Gram is from Russia, she must be a spy?” I shake my head. “I need proof. This isn’t a game to me, you guys. This is my life we’re talking about here.”

  Max watches me, his forehead wrinkled. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll do. I like your gram. She’s a cool lady. I just want to help.”

  Olivia scrunches her nose. “Sorry, Lulu. But I think we need to find out more about Yakov. You have to admit he sounds sketch. Don’t you want to know for sure?”

  “We could set up a meeting with him. Ask him how he knows your gram. See what he says,” Max suggests.

  “We ran away from him this morning,” I say. “You don’t think he’s going to recognize us?”

  Olivia leans against the kitchen counter. “Max can talk to him.”

  Max shrugs, a half smile lifting up a corner of his mouth. “That’s cool with me.”

  I nod, my mind racing with possible meeting places. A detailed map of the park floats in the air above me. “If we meet at the park, I can bring Gram and Clay. They can stay at the play area, and Max can meet him at the duck pond. There’s an area we can watch without being seen.”

  “How do we get Yakov there?” Olivia asks.

  I spot Gram’s phone on the counter next to her purse and get an idea. I swipe it and quickly find Yakov’s contact information.

  “Sending him a text from her phone,” Max says with an admiring grin. “That’ll work.”

  “What should I say?”

  “See what your gram said the last time she texted,” Olivia suggests.

  I scroll down. “She asked him if they could meet. He said yes and told her to come to his office. There aren’t any details or anything.”

  “Are there other texts?” Olivia leans closer.

  “No. Just these.” I start typing and show her when I’m done.

  Meet me today at 4:30 at the Civic Center Park behind the duck pond. I’ll be on the second bench.

  “Ooh,” Olivia says. “That’s perfect. Just mysterious enough for him to be intrigued but not enough information to make him suspicious.”

  A small noise from the doorway has me looking up with dread.

  “Lulu, why do you have my phone?” Gram asks.

  22. Medulla Oblongata

  Our medulla oblongata sends messages between parts of the brain and the spinal cord. If the medulla’s message gets intercepted, it can mean our brain forgets to control our breathing or our heart rate. It can mean the difference between life and death. Every spy needs a way to deliver messages—maybe it’s a special word, a song, or a code that can only be deciphered with a particular book. If the message gets intercepted, then you’re at the enemy’s mercy.

  * * *

  By meeting with Yakov, am I putting Gram in even more danger? If she was a spy, was he the way she delivered messages to Russia? Or is it something else completely?

  Too late to back out now. Yakov walks briskly down the hill to the second bench, looking around briefly before sitting. He gets his phone out and starts fiddling with it.

  “Do you think he’s texting your gram?” Olivia asks.

  My heart leaps. “Go now,” I say to Max.

  Max walks past the bench before doubling back and sitting on the other end. Yakov glances over, and his bushy brows draw together. He sets his phone next to him on the bench.

  I’ve left Gram and Clay near the slides. When Gram caught me with her phone at home, it hadn’t taken much to convince her that I wasn’t snooping. I told her that she’d left her phone in the kitchen and I was on my way to bring it to her. If she really is a spy, then her loss of memory must b
e affecting her skills. What kind of spy believes everything her granddaughter tells her?

  “What’s he saying?” Olivia whispers.

  “How am I supposed to know? They’re too far away.” I take a picture to document the meeting. Max said it was important to record everything we could.

  “I’m sorry about your gram’s memory,” Olivia whispers. “I know how much she means to you.”

  “She’ll be okay.”

  Olivia bumps my shoulder with hers. “You know I’m always here for you, right? I’m like your Jacob.”

  I want to believe this. I don’t want to think she’d ditch me if she found out about my memory. When we’re together like this, it’s hard to remember why I was so worried. Who else would follow a possible dangerous Russian guy with me?

  I bump her shoulder back. “I know. Same.”

  But something still holds me back from telling her everything.

  “He’s waving us over,” Olivia says, her voice wobbling with excitement.

  I take a deep breath and step out from behind the tree. Olivia grabs my hand, and it makes Yakov’s ferocious glare a little less scary.

  “You girls again?” His gaze fixes on me. “I know you. You’re Tatyana’s granddaughter, yes?”

  “Sue,” I squeak. “My grandma’s name is Sue. How do you know her?”

  “Ah, yes, Sue. Of course, my mistake. Is Tat… Sue here?” He looks past me as if he expects to see her.

  I shake my head and try not to look toward the play area. “You didn’t answer my question. How do you know Gram? Why did she come and see you yesterday?”

  He slaps his giant hands together. “So, you are a detective, yes? And these are your colleagues?” He gestures to Max and Olivia.

  “We know who you are,” Max says, his chest thrust out. “You better answer our questions or we’re going to the police.”

  I catch Max’s eye and give him a look I hope he translates as, What the heck are you doing? He shakes his head like he has it all under control. But from Yakov’s smile, I don’t think Max knows what he’s doing at all. Whoever he is, this man is a professional, and we’re pests to him. Pests that he won’t have much trouble swatting away if he wants to.