The Lost Lullaby

by Jason Segel

  —

  When Charlie crossed back through the portal, he didn’t say a word to Charlotte or Jack about Ms. Abbot’s dream. What he’d witnessed was far too private to share. But he knew he needed to act fast, and he was glad the next day was a Saturday. When morning arrived, Charlie was up and dressed before the rest of the family opened their eyes. By the time his dad came down to make breakfast, he was already halfway out the door.

  “Where you going?” Andrew Laird asked. “I’m about to make waffles.”

  There were few things on earth for which Charlie would have missed his dad’s waffles. The task before him just happened to be one of them. Charlie pulled his backpack on and adjusted the straps. The pack was unusually heavy. “I have to make a quick delivery,” he told his dad. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Charlie didn’t wait around for a response. He hurried outside, grabbed his bike, and was off before anyone in the purple mansion could stop him.

  He rode his bicycle all the way up to Ms. Abbot’s front door; then he dropped it beside a yellow jessamine bush. Standing next to a small brown box that someone had left on Ms. Abbot’s doorstep, Charlie pressed the doorbell. He pressed a second time when he got tired of waiting for an answer. And again and again. Until, at last, he heard her shuffling toward the door.

  “Charlie.” Ms. Abbot looked terrible. There were streaks of mascara running down her face, and her eyes were tomato red. “That’s so weird. I just—”

  “—had a dream about me,” Charlie finished the thought for her. “Yeah, I know. Can I come in?”

  The teacher hesitated. “I don’t think so. It’s a bit of a mess in here,” she said.

  “I know that too,” Charlie said as he squeezed past her.

  The house was even more of a disaster than the last time he’d seen it. Half-filled cardboard boxes cluttered every room.

  “What’s with all the boxes?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m moving,” Ms. Abbot explained with a sigh. “Cypress Creek just isn’t for me.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say,” Charlie said. “But tell me the truth, Ms. Abbot. The problem isn’t really Cypress Creek, is it? Someone stole the belladonna, and now you think your cover is about to be blown. You’re running away again, aren’t you? How long are you going to keep doing that?”

  “Pardon me?” Ms. Abbot asked. She looked astonished to find herself being lectured by a kid.

  Charlie wasn’t going to back down. “I was in your nightmare last night. I saw the people chasing you with torches and pitchforks. It was a witch-hunt, and I know what that means. You’re worried that the same thing that happened to you in Brooklyn is going to happen here in Cypress Creek. Am I right?”

  Ms. Abbot gasped. “Charlotte told you about Brooklyn!”

  “My friends and I read about it online,” Charlie said, managing to tell the truth without getting his stepmother in trouble. “I know people up there said some terrible things about you. They even claimed you killed your brother. I bet you don’t even have one, do you?”

  “Actually, I did,” Ms. Abbot said sadly. “My brother Joseph died when he was your age after he ate some yewberries and swallowed the poisonous seeds.”

  Charlie let the information sink in. “So your brother really was poisoned?” he finally asked. He didn’t think it would be polite to ask Ms. Abbot where her brother had gotten the berries that killed him. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

  “Yes,” said Ms. Abbot. “Joe and his friend were camping and they found the berries in the woods. It happened almost twenty years ago, and ever since that day, I’ve been trying to turn Joe’s death into something good. I’ve been experimenting on my own, trying to find ways to use chemicals like the one that killed my brother to save people’s lives. But now it looks like it’s over.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe I can help you.”

  Ms. Abbot shook her head. “No, Charlie,” she said. “You can’t. You’re only twelve years old. You can’t get involved in my grown-up problems.”

  “I’m already involved,” Charlie told her, remembering Medusa’s words. “I’m supposed to help you. I think that’s why I was able to visit your nightmare last night.”

  Ms. Abbot rubbed her face with her hands. “This is all so strange,” she said.

  “You’ve got a garden filled with poisonous plants,” Charlie pointed out. “And you think what I just told you is strange? Here.” He shrugged off his backpack and unzipped the top. “I brought you something to look at.”

  Charlie pulled out a large black binder with the word Nightmares painted on the front in gold. Inside were illustrations of monsters of every imaginable variety—and all the information you’d need to conquer them if you happened to meet them in your dreams. “Charlotte wrote this,” he told Ms. Abbot. “I helped her with some of it.”

  Ms. Abbot sank down on a sofa covered with trash. “This is remarkable,” she said as she flipped through the pages. “What a wonderful imagination Charlotte must have.”

  “She does have a great imagination,” Charlie agreed. “But this book isn’t fiction.”

  Ms. Abbot looked up at Charlie with an indulgent grin. “You’re kidding.”

  Charlie shook his head solemnly. “You might want to put on a pot of coffee, Ms. Abbot. I’m about to let you in on the truth about Nightmares. I know your secret. Now I’m going to tell you mine.”

  An hour later, when Charlie stepped out of Ms. Abbot’s house, he noticed there was still a little brown box sitting on the doorstep.

  “The mailman must have left this for you,” he said, picking it up and handing it to Ms. Abbot.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took the box. “And thank you for sharing Charlotte’s book with me.” When she’d first opened Nightmares and began to read about the Netherworld, it had been clear to Charlie that Ms. Abbot found it all hard to believe. But he’d patiently answered her questions and taught her everything he knew about battling Nightmares. Now hope seemed to be spreading through her, and the color was finally returning to his teacher’s pale face.

  Then Ms. Abbot glanced down at the box in her hands. “That’s odd. There’s no address on this package. Someone must have delivered it by hand. But why didn’t they ring the bell? I’ve been here at home all day.”

  Ms. Abbot ripped apart the brown paper wrapping and tore into the cardboard. She pulled out a little bottle filled with a milky white liquid. The teacher’s eyes slowly left the bottle and rose to meet Charlie’s. The fear was back again. It was written all over her face.

  “Do you think this could be from India Kessog?” she asked. Charlie had told Ms. Abbot about ICK and INK. He’d also warned her that INK had created a poisonous potion from the belladonna she’d stolen and had tried to give a bottle of it to Jack. It seemed likely that she’d attempt to poison other people as well.

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t drink it if I were you,” Charlie told the teacher.

  He took the box out of Ms. Abbot’s hand. When he checked inside, he found a folded note written in neat cursive handwriting.

  “Thank you very much for the Atropa belladonna,” the note read. “I used it to make this elixir for a girl I met at the local school. As a fellow scientist, you might like a sample of it for your studies.” It was signed India Kessog.

  Charlie’s head was spinning, but he did his best to stay calm. “May I use your phone?” he asked Ms. Abbot.

  She reached a trembling hand into the pocket of her robe and passed her phone to Charlie. He quickly punched in Rocco’s phone number.

  “Hello?” Rocco answered grumpily. It was early in the morning, and he wouldn’t have recognized Ms. Abbot’s number.

  “Rocco, it’s Charlie. Do you know where Jancy Dare lives?”

  “Huh?” Rocco replied. “Sorry, I mean, sure. The Quarterback Killer’s house is a few blocks from mine.”

  “Great. Head over there right away,” Charlie told him. “Don’t let Jancy eat or drink anything. After
you get to her house, call Alfie and Paige and tell them to meet us there as soon as possible. INK’s finally made her move.”

  —

  Even in an emergency situation, with a classmate’s life on the line, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Jancy Dare’s family had the perfect lawn. The front part alone was almost as big as a football field, and the grass was a carpet of rich, dark green. The blades appeared to be about an inch tall, which the football team’s new water boy had once informed Charlie was the ideal height for sports.

  Charlie also noticed that the Dare family yard appeared particularly stunning when compared to the neighbors’ lawns. Those on either side of the Dare residence were brittle and brown, with large patches of bare dirt where the grass had died. Charlie had cared for enough sickly plants to know exactly what the problem was: something was eating the grass’s roots. But whatever was destroying the neighbors’ lawns had somehow steered clear of the Dares’ property.

  From the car, Charlie spotted Rocco’s bike lying on its side near the sidewalk, where the boy must have dumped it in a hurry. As Ms. Abbot slowed to a stop, Paige rode up beside them and a wailing ambulance rounded the corner and screeched to a halt.

  “What happened?” Charlie heard Paige call out to the two EMTs who leaped from the front of the ambulance and began grabbing equipment from the back.

  “Report of a possible poisoning,” one told her.

  Charlie’s heart sank. “I guess it’s too late,” he told Ms. Abbot. “Jancy must have taken the stuff in the bottle.”

  With a groan of defeat, Ms. Abbot rested her forehead against the steering wheel just as Paige knocked on the passenger-side window. “Are you coming or what?” she yelled through the glass.

  Charlie put a finger to his lips to politely shush Paige and then turned to the teacher. “Ms. Abbot?” Her knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. “Please don’t drive away when I get out of the car. I know you’re scared. But if you run this time, you might not be able to stop.”

  The teacher lifted her head, took a deep breath, and threw the car into park. “You’re right,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt. “I have to tell Jancy’s parents what happened. It might be the only way to save her.”

  As Charlie, Paige, and Ms. Abbot hurried across the lawn to the house, Charlie couldn’t help but marvel at the soft cushion of grass beneath his feet. He’d never encountered a lawn like the Dares’. Under other circumstances he would have asked what their secret was, but this clearly wasn’t the time to talk fertilizer. He shouldn’t have even been thinking about it. The front door of the house was wide-open, and Charlie could see several large and worried people gathered in the living room on the other side.

  Jancy’s dad was as big as any ogre Charlie had ever encountered, and her mom wasn’t much smaller. A beefy body builder EMT was interviewing them while Rocco sat quietly in a leather recliner. Looking around, Charlie noticed that the entire living room was devoted to football. There were football trophies, framed jerseys, balls covered with signatures, and even an athletic supporter displayed in a special glass case. Every spare inch of wall space held a photo of Jancy playing football—either on the school field or in front of her house.

  “Jancy’s been sick since Monday,” her father was telling the EMT. “By the time she got to football practice that afternoon, she was already feeling dizzy and weak. Then she threw up all over the coach and got sent home. The doctor thought it was just a regular bug. But our daughter’s been in bed for the last two days and she hasn’t gotten any better.”

  “We spoke to the doctor again last night,” Jancy’s mother said. “So when the package arrived on our doorstep this morning, we figured it must be from her. There was a little bottle inside. We gave Jancy some of the stuff because we thought it was medicine.” She paused to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face. “And then the Cypress Creek Elementary quarterback showed up and told us it was poison and said we needed to call an ambulance right away.”

  “What kind of poison do you think it was?” the EMT asked Rocco.

  Ms. Abbot stepped forward. “It was extract of belladonna,” she said. “Also known as deadly nightshade. I’m afraid the plant used to make it came from my garden.”

  For the first time, the Dares seemed to realize that a new group of people had entered the room.

  “Who are you?” Jancy’s mom asked.

  The teacher looked pale, and there was still mascara smeared all over her face, but her feet were firmly planted. Charlie could tell she wasn’t going to run away. “My name is Beatrice Swanson, though I also go by Samantha Abbot. I’m a science teacher at your daughter’s school. And I need to tell you something important about your daughter’s condition.”

  Jancy Dare’s parents waited nervously for Ms. Abbot to begin. The teacher had opened her mouth to speak again when the second EMT appeared in the living room with his medical kit in his hand. He’d just come from Jancy’s bedroom, and his face was a picture of grief.

  “What’s wrong?” Jancy’s father jumped up.

  “Is our daughter…” Jancy’s mother clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What happened back there, Fred?” his partner asked.

  “It’s terrible,” the EMT responded miserably.

  “Tell us!” Charlie shouted, unable to stand the suspense.

  “I just got my butt kicked by a twelve-year-old girl,” the EMT said. “The kid challenged me to an arm-wrestling match and pinned me in about ten seconds flat.”

  Paige laughed out loud, and Charlie gave a giant sigh of relief.

  “She beat you at arm wrestling?” Jancy’s dad asked in astonishment. “But she hasn’t been able to sit up for the last two days!”

  “Well, your daughter’s sitting up just fine right now,” the EMT told Mr. Dare. “She’s got a pretty impressive arm—and quite a lip on her too. Told me my triceps are puny and my biceps are underdeveloped.”

  Jancy’s parents both looked like they might explode with happiness. Mrs. Dare was on her way to check on her daughter when Alfie finally arrived. His latest science T-shirt was soaked with sweat, and he was panting so hard that he could barely speak. He must have biked at full speed all the way across town.

  “Hhhis not hhhoyshhhun,” Alfie said, clutching Mrs. Dare’s arm to hold himself up.

  “Excuse me?” Jancy’s mom asked. “Where are all these children coming from? Who are you?”

  “Well, look at that—it’s the water boy!” Jancy’s dad exclaimed. “Kid’s supposed to be some kind of genius.” He bent down next to Alfie and studied him. “Is he speaking a foreign language or something? What’s he trying to say?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that the stuff Jancy took wasn’t poison!” Alfie managed to blurt out. He stopped to catch his breath again; then he found Charlie in the crowd. “I ran some tests on the liquid that was in the bottle INK dropped in the park. It wasn’t poison, Charlie. It was atropine.”

  The only person who understood appeared to be Ms. Abbot, and she couldn’t have seemed more surprised. “Atropine?” the teacher marveled. “India Kessog extracted atropine from the belladonna? That’s amazing!”

  “I know, right?” Alfie agreed. “I mean, it’s not like INK’s a real twelve-year-old or anything, so it’s not as impressive as it seems. But still! I can’t wait to find out how she did it.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Paige stepped between the two scientists with her hands raised. “Why don’t we all stop right here for one teensy little moment. What the heck is atropine?”

  Ms. Abbot smiled broadly. “It’s a chemical found in belladonna. Remember when I told you that sometimes the same plants that can make people sick can also be used to make sick people better? Atropine comes from belladonna, but it isn’t poison. It’s medicine.”

  “Medicine for what?” Charlie asked.

  “Organophosphate and muscarine poisoning, primarily,” Alfie told him.

  “Excuse me?” Rocco asked.
>
  “English translation, please?” Paige asked with an annoyed huff.

  “Emergency rooms keep atropine on hand to treat people who’ve accidentally eaten certain kinds of toxic mushrooms,” Ms. Abbot said.

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be Jancy,” Mrs. Dare chimed in, shaking her big blond head. “Our daughter never touches vegetables.”

  “Yeah, but mushrooms aren’t…,” Alfie started to say, until Charlie shot him a warning look and he sealed his lips.

  “All right, so I guess Jancy wasn’t poisoned by mushrooms,” said Ms. Abbot, staring at the floor as she rubbed her temples. “Well then, let’s see. What else does atropine treat? Oh!” She looked up. “Sometimes soldiers carry syringes of atropine so they can give themselves an injection if they’re exposed to chemical weapons.”

  Mr. Dare chuckled. “I’d say it’s highly unlikely that Jancy got caught up in anything like that here in Cypress Creek,” he said. “We’re a peace-loving town.”

  “Oooh, oooh, oooh!” It was the familiar sound of a lightbulb going on in Alfie’s head. Charlie turned to see him hopping up and down like an excited toad. “What about pesticide poisoning?” Alfie asked Ms. Abbot.

  “Pesticides?” said Mr. Dare. “You mean the chemicals some farmers put on their crops?”

  “Exactly. They’re meant to keep bugs from eating plants, but some of them can make people quite sick,” the teacher explained.

  “Well, I don’t know where Jancy could have gotten into any pesticides. We haven’t been to a farm in years,” said Mrs. Dare.

  Ms. Abbot looked stumped. “Well, then I guess I’ll need to do a little more research. Right now I have no idea what made Jancy ill—or why the atropine seems to have made her better.”

  That was when Charlie recalled the conversation he’d overheard between Jancy and INK in the school cafeteria.

  “INK definitely figured out what was wrong with Jancy the day they met. I remember she said something about Jancy sweating a lot and asked Jancy if she had been near a war. I thought INK was just poking fun at her.”