“All right, I understand. But know you’re always welcome back.”
Right now, that was only some faraway dream, but Charlie nodded. He gathered his books and lunch. Maybe he’d still have time to shove a sandwich in his face before the bell rang for the next class. On the way to the cafeteria, he passed Miranda and Rohan walking in the other direction. He tried to keep his eyes down. They passed him without saying a word.
Even though he had sealed up the passage to the other world, it still kept subtracting things out of his life. He didn’t know how to stop it.
Charlie made it home before Imogen that afternoon. Ruby was waiting for him on the porch again. Next to her was a bag from Edna’s bakery. Ruby’s teeth marks were imprinted in the fold.
“Did you bring these for me?” He was pretty sure Ruby nodded. She seemed especially excited to see him today and kept bumping into him with her whole body.
He opened the bag. Double chocolate chip cookies. Edna must have sent them.
He looked up when he heard a voice. “Charlie!” Elliott ran down the sidewalk, waving at him. She arrived on the front porch out of breath and collapsed onto one of the steps. “I ran all the way home and then all the way here. I’m not used to running with a heavy backpack.” She caught her breath for a moment and then added, “Hey, Ruby.”
Ruby licked her face in answer, and Elliott laughed.
Charlie handed her one of the cookies. “Thanks,” Elliott said. “Now what’s going on?”
Charlie didn’t know how Elliott was going to react. Maybe she’d think he was crazy. Maybe she’d think he was making things up. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had to tell someone.
“I know where Frank is.”
Elliott stopped mid-chew; she sprayed little cookie bits on his face. “I’m sorry, what?”
So Charlie told her the story from the beginning—starting when Imogen had told him she had seen Mom to finding the hatch and spending time with Mom in the world below. He told her about the missing memories and seeing Frank on the street and Imogen wanting to stay there forever. He showed her the pictures in the hallway with the fading Imogen and Charlie.
And at the end of the story, Charlie held his breath as Elliott said the exact thing he hoped she would. “Well, let’s go get Frank back.”
THE THING ABOUT PROMISES
For the next two days after that, Charlie would burst out of the school doors when the final bell rang and race through the neighborhood, sneakers flapping. It was only when he got to the familiar red door that he would stop, put his hand out on a porch post, and take a breath.
He’d wait for Imogen on the old swing. He first saw her in the distance, running as fast as she could to the house, probably hoping to beat him there so she could go visit Mom. That was until she saw Charlie. Then she slowed to a jog and then to a walk. When she was close enough, he could see a storm cloud across her face.
He tried to talk to her but she only brushed past him. Then she stomped through the house, threw her books around, and refused to eat anything Charlie or Dad made for dinner. He left her a note, explaining everything he was worried about, but he only found it crumpled in the trash later that night. He had thrown his Mathletes permission slip in next to it. The hardest thing was that Dad had actually remembered to sign it.
On the evening of the second day, though, things seemed to take a turn for the better. Imogen actually smiled a bit when he asked her about her school day. And she sat down with him at the kitchen table for dinner.
“There’s a picnic tomorrow after school. Do you want to go?” Even though Charlie didn’t plan on giving her an option, he tried to make it seem like she had one. “They’ll have hot dogs and potato chips—”
“Sour cream and onion?”
They were the first words Imogen had spoken to him in two days. He had to hold on to this.
“Probably! And you’ll get to see the decorations that we made, and there’ll also be—”
“I’ll go.”
Charlie couldn’t believe it was this easy to convince her. “Really? Great! You promise?”
Imogen nodded.
Charlie’s shoulders relaxed, a grin spreading across his face.
Maybe this was a good time to bring up something about Not-Mom. “So there was something else I wanted to—”
“I know. You want to talk about Mom.”
Yes! This was the moment Charlie had been waiting for.
“Let’s talk about her tomorrow, after the picnic.”
Charlie tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, just slightly, to study her. Had she really turned around this quickly? Maybe, but he couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that had settled in his stomach. Or maybe it was the chicken surprise Dad had left them for dinner. He couldn’t quite tell.
Still, the universe kind of owed him. Maybe this turnaround was the one good thing in a line of terrible, awful things that had happened to him and his family.
He pushed aside his doubt and speared another bite of chicken. They’d talk about Mom tomorrow.
On Friday, Charlie didn’t run home quite as fast. He stopped for a moment on the steps outside school to talk with Elliott. They had been working each day at lunch on a plan to save Frank. Elliott had turned it into some kind of logic problem and took notes on everything he said. They hadn’t worked through everything yet, but they were making progress. Then he stopped outside Crusty’s. He waved at Edna, who stood behind the counter. He thought for a moment about going in, but instead he ran on.
That is, when only three blocks from home, he heard his name.
“Charlie!”
He paused and looked around. A woman with curly hair waved at him and ran over from her car. Charlie couldn’t quite see her face behind her sunglasses, but she looked a little bit familiar.
“Charlie. How are you?” she said when she reached the sidewalk. Charlie took a step back and held on a little tighter to the straps of his book bag.
“Oh gosh,” the woman said, her hand flying to her chest. “I’m so sorry. You don’t remember me.” She removed the sunglasses. “Sandy. Sandy Dolson. I was, I mean, I’m a friend of your parents. Well, you know.”
Charlie did recognize her now. She used to go jogging with Mom on Wednesdays and Fridays. “Hi.” He gestured toward home. “I’ve got to get going so I can wait for Imogen.”
He turned to leave when she caught him by the shoulder. “That’s why I’m so glad I saw you. Imogen got sick at school today and went home early.”
It was a full minute before Charlie’s mouth and brain could form any kind of response.
“I don’t understand. She went home early?”
“Well, the school called me. They couldn’t get ahold of your dad, and your mom had put me on her file as a secondary emergency contact. And the nurse said that Imogen didn’t feel well. So I went to school and picked her up. I offered to stay with her when I dropped her off at the house, but she told me that your dad was working from home today. I didn’t see his car, but she—”
Charlie didn’t even wait for her to finish her sentence before he turned and ran. He vaguely heard Mrs. Dolson calling after him, but the words got swallowed up as he put more and more ground between them. The pounding of his feet against the pavement echoed the pounding of his heart. He couldn’t seem to make his feet move fast enough. It was like his legs weren’t even connected to his body.
And as he ran, thoughts came at him rapid-fire.
Maybe she was really sick.
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
Maybe she wouldn’t go down there alone—she had promised him.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
He fumbled with his key when he reached the door. The sweat on his hands made the knob hard to grip, and he cursed as the door didn’t open right away.
He kicked it and then again, letting out a cry.
Finally, a click. He pushed the door open with such force that it ricocheted back off the wall with a thud.
; Imogen’s backpack stood guard in the front hallway. It wasn’t even unzipped. He ran through the family room. The couch cushion where he had hidden the hammer was on the floor.
“Imogen!” Charlie yelled. “Imogen!”
There was no response.
“Imogen, please!” His voice was strained. Tears pricked his eyes, and he roughly wiped at them with his fists. He couldn’t get emotional now. There wasn’t time.
Imogen’s door was closed. He turned the knob and pushed, but it wouldn’t open.
He forced himself to take a deep breath.
He pushed again. Something was in the way. With his back against the door, he pushed again and again. Each time the door gave way a little, and he’d hear the scratch of wood against wood. Imogen’s dresser. That thing was almost twice her size. How did she even—?
The thought made him push faster.
The door swung open.
“Imogen?” Charlie whispered. But the maybes had already faded.
She wasn’t really sick.
It was too late.
And as his eyes swept over the bed that had been pushed aside and the hammer that lay next to her stuffed dog, and the nails, half-bent and strewn all over the room, he knew.
Imogen had gone down there alone.
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
There was no time to wait to enact some carefully formulated plan now. Imogen was down there in the other world. Maybe she wasn’t far ahead of him.
Charlie dumped out his school backpack on the floor. He might need supplies, though he wasn’t sure what. He grabbed Imogen’s flashlight and a jacket out of the laundry basket and two granola bars from the pantry. He stuffed them in the bag. Then he climbed down into the hatch like he had before—his arms on either side of the hole—and tried to lower himself in. But instead of the zoom-y rush and trip to the other world, nothing happened. Nothing.
He tried again, this time lowering himself down with more force as if he could somehow rocket through to the other side through sheer will alone. But all he felt was the light bounce as the hatch rejected him.
Maybe magic words would help. He tried a bunch—abracadabra and open sesame and open up you stupid hatch—but none of them worked.
Charlie forced his shaking arms and legs to be calm. He had to think.
He couldn’t call the police—they’d never believe him. They hadn’t listened to him when they asked him about Frank months ago. Besides, he wasn’t sure he would have believed it himself if he wasn’t living it.
He’d call Dad. That was it. He’d call him and Dad would have to listen and then he’d come home and help. Charlie jumped up out of the hatch and ran to the kitchen. He picked up the phone and dialed Dad’s cell.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. He heard a click.
“You’ve reached the voice mailbox of Charles Price, certified public accountant.”
No. Charlie hung up and tried again.
He tried four times and got the same message each time. “Pick up!” Charlie yelled into the phone.
“I’m unavailable right now. Please leave a message after the beep.” Unavailable right now. Unavailable forever.
“Dad,” Charlie said, leaving a message. His voice cracked. “Dad, Imogen’s missing. I—I—I’m going to go find her.” He placed the phone back in its cradle and raked his hands through his hair and screamed. It was the sound that a caged animal makes when it realizes there is no way out.
He collapsed at the table. All the thoughts in his head jumbled together in a tangle of words and emotions. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He didn’t know what to do.
He had to get down there. But how? The only entrance was blocked. Slowly, through his thought-filled haze, he became aware of a pounding. He looked up. It was coming from the front door.
He raced through the kitchen and the front hallway, skidding to a stop in front of the door. Now, the pounding was accompanied by someone yelling his name.
“Charlie!” Pound. Pound. “Charlie!”
He yanked open the door. It was Elliott, hand raised mid-knock, her eyes startled. Charlie couldn’t blame her—he was certain he was red-faced and disheveled and his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on one thing at a time. Elliott wore her cross-country jacket and pants from her earlier practice, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. A small star glinted right above her ear, a remnant of the decorations they were supposed to put up together.
Her words tumbled out, tripping over one another. “I was worried about you when you didn’t show up to help hang our decorations. And with everything that you told me about Frank and stuff, I thought I should come see if you were okay.”
Charlie couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.
In a smaller voice, she added, “Are you okay?”
And with those words, all the ones that Charlie had been holding back for months and months bubbled to the surface. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the burning sensation away and the tears back, and shook his head. He wasn’t okay.
He wasn’t okay.
He hadn’t been okay for a long time.
With all the words that surfaced, he chose only two. “Imogen’s missing.”
A SIGN
Charlie showed Elliott the hatch. It was one thing to talk about it and another thing to see it. She marveled at it, running her hands along the sides, opening and closing the little hatch door, scanning every crevice with Imogen’s flashlight. She approached it like she might a frog under glass—something to study. Charlie showed her how to position herself in it with her arms on the side and how he’d hold his breath the moment before letting go.
Elliott tried to lower herself down into the hatch. They both hoped that maybe she’d be let through. But she experienced the same spring back that he had. This hatch didn’t want her either.
“Magic,” she whispered. Charlie agreed. He had once thought that magic died when Mom did. Maybe the good kind. But this magic he was dealing with now? The kind that stole Imogen? It didn’t die.
It woke up.
They sat on the porch in silence, Charlie and Elliott together, just staring out at everything and nothing at the same time.
Charlie didn’t know what to do. And maybe even worse, Elliott didn’t know what to do. No matter how they tried to treat this like some logic puzzle to solve, there didn’t seem to be any answers.
He closed his eyes and a memory popped into his head. It was as vivid and as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Mom had been lying on the couch, covered up to her neck with a blanket, and her forehead was warm and feverish. She was going in and out of sleep, but when she was awake, Charlie would feed her ice chips on a spoon.
“I need you to listen to me, Charlie,” she said. Her voice was soft. He had to lean in closer to hear her, her breath hot against his ear. She grabbed his hand and held it in hers. “I’m leaving soon—”
“No,” Charlie said, even though he knew it was true. Tears trailed down his face.
Mom nodded. He could tell the movement was painful from the grimace on her face. “But I’ll always be here for you and Dad and Imogen. You’ll see signs of me everywhere. Little reminders when you need them.”
Charlie hadn’t understood what she meant at the time, and she had fallen right back asleep after that. He didn’t get the chance to ask her. But he needed her right now. He needed her to be there for him and so he whispered, underneath his breath so that not even Elliott could hear, “Mom, send me a sign. Please, Mom.” His voice grew more desperate. “Please.”
The next thing he knew, Elliott was shaking his arm. “Look, Charlie.”
He opened his eyes.
Ruby raced toward them. The tags on her bright-red collar jingled, and her nails clicked on the sidewalk, and her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth. The white spots on her fur seemed even brighter, if that was possible. Charlie thought she was going to run him over as she bounded up the porch steps, and he braced himself. Instead, she grabbed hold of his pants leg
with her teeth and pulled Charlie to his feet. Then she turned and raced back in the direction that she’d come.
Charlie and Elliott stared at each other, jaws open, eyes wide. Ruby turned back to them and barked impatiently. Once, and then again.
“I think she wants us to follow her,” Charlie said. And at this point, it was the only thing they had to go on.
“Let’s go then,” Elliott said.
As their sneakers slapped against the road, Charlie hoped that this was the sign he had asked for.
HAROLD AND EDNA
Ruby led them past the Leaning Tower of Pizza, past the little hardware store on the corner, and through Skyline’s concrete patio, where they had just eaten lunch on Saturday. She always remained close enough that they could follow her but far enough that she was just out of grasp.
She skidded to a halt in front of Edna’s shop and slipped inside the open door.
Charlie and Elliott followed. They stopped right at the counter, hands on their knees, trying to catch their breath.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Edna said, and she ushered them to the table in the back where Frank and Charlie used to sit to do homework.
“You have?” Elliott asked, confused. “I don’t understand.”
Charlie didn’t have time to waste. “Imogen’s missing.” Panic beat again in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t a sign after all. How could Edna possibly help? Ruby placed her head on Charlie’s knee to still him. “She’s in the same place Frank is.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected her reaction to be. Surprise, maybe. Disbelief, for sure. But instead Edna nodded and said, “I was worried that might happen.”
“What? You know about the other world?” Charlie looked at Elliott and then back at Edna. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s a long story. I think it’s best to start at the beginning.” Edna unclasped a locket from around her neck. It was simple and gold with a constellation of tiny jewels on the front. She popped it open. “Meet Harold.” In it was a black-and-white photograph of a man, maybe a little younger than Edna. He wore a bow tie and a flower in his lapel and stared at the camera like he really loved the person behind it.
The Remarkable Journey of Charlie Price Page 11