The Remarkable Journey of Charlie Price

by Jennifer Maschari

  “Let’s go around back.” He motioned to Elliott and Ruby, who crouched under the sight line of the windows, just in case Not-Mom was watching for them. They kept close to the house like shadows, slinking along the perimeter.

  Charlie peeked in one of the back windows first, hoping that he’d see Imogen and Not-Mom sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner. The table sat empty, but the chairs looked like they had been moved just a bit. Maybe they had finished dinner. Maybe they were somewhere else in the house.

  The flutters in his chest alternated between hope and panic.

  He pulled the picture out of his pocket to show Elliott. Her face was grim. She didn’t have to say anything. They could both see it: Imogen was a little more faded still.

  The key felt slick in Charlie’s hand, and he struggled to fit it in the lock of the back door. Ruby’s tail beat against his leg, like she was trying to reassure him. Finally, it slipped into place and he inched open the door. This time there were no good smells of meat loaf and spaghetti, no steam-filled kitchen or music from the radio.

  Charlie, Elliott, and Ruby tried to keep their feet quiet.

  They canvassed each of the rooms—the kitchen, the laundry room, the family room. All the bedrooms both upstairs and down. They even looked in the garage. Everything was quiet and still. Everything was in its proper place. Except for Imogen and Mom. They were nowhere to be found.

  The only signs that they had been there were two mugs in the kitchen sink—one ringed with chocolate along its rim and one completely clean, as if it hadn’t been touched. The clean one was Mom’s mug, covered with flowers on the outside. The other was Imogen’s. Mom had gotten it for her special one Christmas. It had a picture of Imogen on it from her first play—it had been in kindergarten, and Imogen had been a baby bluebird. Charlie missed that smile on her face.

  “So what do we do now?” Charlie asked. He held Imogen’s mug in his hands like it could somehow bring her back. He hadn’t expected them not to be here. They had nothing to go on now. Mom and Imogen could be anywhere.

  Charlie wished he would have watched more detective shows instead of monster movies. Maybe then he’d know what to do. He knew enough about monsters, he decided. There were no monsters scarier than the one in his life.

  “Okay, let’s think,” Elliott said. She tapped her fingers against the counter. “We have to put ourselves in Imogen’s place. If I was down here and I thought I was really with my mom, I’d want to do all my favorite things with her.”

  That jostled loose something in Charlie’s brain. About spaghetti and meat loaf and Scrabble and things Imogen had wanted to do. “The list! On our last night here together, Mom wanted to do some of our favorite things. And we left before Imogen got to do one of hers. She told Mom she had made a list.”

  “That’s a start,” Elliott said. “If everything’s pretty much the same here, maybe we can find it in her room.”

  Charlie stumbled back down the hallway and into Imogen’s room. Time was wasting, and this was the only kind-of clue they had. First, he yanked open the drawers on her nightstand—just a bunch of hair ties and charm bracelets and random art supplies she had stuffed in there. He paged through books and magazines and the script that still sat on her dresser. He even shook them out to see if anything was lodged in between the pages. Nothing. Elliott unzipped Imogen’s backpack and dumped out the contents. She rifled through folders and sheets of loose leaf and her social studies notes. Ruby nosed through them for good measure. Still nothing.

  Imogen had boxes of mementos in her closet. They went to those next. Light-blue boxes labeled on the outside with rectangular white stickers and precise little handwriting. Kneeling down, Charlie started in on the box that said Photographs. He hadn’t looked through these in a long time.

  Each picture was like ripping a little piece of Band-Aid off a cut. Mom and Imogen and Charlie out in the snow, looking like overstuffed marshmallows. Halloween one year when they were all different colors of M&Ms. The family picture with the giant mechanical dinosaur in Michigan. In each of these pictures, just like those in the hall, in this world both Imogen and Charlie were more solid versions of themselves. Imogen, even more than before.

  And then Charlie looked at the next picture.

  “Oh no,” Elliott said, looking over his shoulder.

  It was the same one he had in his pocket. But different. In this one, Frank and Imogen were solid, Charlie and Elliott were faded, and the other birthday party attendees were missing. A reminder of what would be if they didn’t save Imogen and Frank.

  He looked through the other boxes. Still no list.

  He stood up and arched backward, stretching out his limbs, which seemed too tight and tense. The room was now littered with pictures and little notes and books and papers. They had found lists about Imogen’s favorite Disney characters and Imogen’s favorite foods and one entitled “Imogen and Lily’s List of Best Actors in the School Play,” and only Imogen and Lily were on the list. But there was still no list of things Imogen had wanted to do with Mom.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby tugging at a piece of paper he must have overlooked. It was wedged under Imogen’s stage, partially hidden by the puppet that she insisted Mom had given her only a few days ago.

  Ruby pulled the paper free. Charlie took it from her and turned it over in his hands. A few of the words were smeared where Ruby’s mouth had held it, and there were tooth marks in a couple of letters but he could still understand every word.

  FAVORITE THINGS TO DO WITH MOM

  • Drink hot chocolate wearing our favorite slippers.

  • Go to the library and sit in the fun chairs reading books together.

  • Play at the park and eat giant pretzels with mustard.

  • Look at the night sky at the observatory.

  Charlie’s heart hurt looking at the list. These were all memories that Imogen was going to lose.

  “Remember, there are two mugs in the sink,” Elliott said. Ruby trotted over and dropped a slipper at their feet. One of Imogen’s favorite flowery ones that had practically been worn through the sole. “And a slipper. So we know they’ve done at least one of her favorite things. If they’re sticking to this list, I’d say they’re probably going to the library or the park next.”

  “Why do you think that?” Charlie asked.

  Elliott gestured toward the window. “It’s not dark out yet.”

  She was right. Unfortunately, the park and library were in opposite directions entirely. He didn’t know what to do next.

  But at least they had something to go on.

  MEMORIES FOR SALE

  When they stepped onto the front porch, Elliott grabbed Charlie’s shirt sleeve. “It’s Jack.” Her voice was fluttery, not steady like usual.

  Jack was just beyond the driveway. He bounced a big red ball up down, up down and grinned at them. One of his front teeth was still missing. Charlie gripped Imogen’s list even tighter in his fist. Ruby growled from behind his leg.

  Charlie tried to be gentle with his words. He knew how hard it was when your heart wanted to believe one thing and your brain told you another. “It’s not him, Elliott.”

  She scrunched her eyes closed and said, “It’s not Jack, it’s not Jack. It’s. Not. Jack.” Then she opened one slowly. “Are you sure? It really looks like him.”

  “Elly, what are you doing up there? Do you want to play four square?”

  Elliott turned toward Charlie, her eyes now wild. “I want to play. He wants me to play.”

  “She can’t play now,” Charlie yelled. He tried to sound forceful. “We’re looking for someone.”

  Not-Jack bounced the ball and Elliott’s face got all crumply and Ruby’s lips drew back in a snarl. After a moment, Jack said, “Who?”

  Part of Charlie wanted to run in the other direction with Elliott and Ruby, knowing that this place was dangerous and tricky. The other part, though, whispered that maybe Jack knew something. Maybe he had se
en Not-Mom and Imogen. Maybe he knew where they had gone.

  The second part of Charlie won out. “Imogen—do you know where she is?”

  Charlie took a step forward. Ruby dropped the slipper she was still holding, grabbed onto his shoelace, and pulled. “It’s okay, girl,” he said to her, but her whining only intensified and now she pushed into him, as if trying to hold him back. He shoved her gently out of the way. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe,” Jack finally replied. “Maybe not.”

  Charlie started jogging toward Jack. Footsteps sounded behind him; he knew that Elliott and Ruby were following, only a couple of beats behind. He could hear Elliott whispering, “Not-Jack, Not-Jack,” again and again under her breath.

  Charlie’s heart beat faster against the walls of his chest. He tugged on the bottom of his shirt and grabbed a fistful of it, wringing it in his hand, tighter and tighter. He had to stay calm. He had to ask the right questions.

  “Which is it?” Charlie asked. “Either you’ve seen her or you haven’t.” His voice shook out the last few words.

  “You have to give me something first.”

  Behind him, he heard a rustling. Then a fist thrust out in front of him, clutching a worn ten-dollar bill. “Here,” Elliott said. She stepped forward and blinked rapidly. “I’ll give you something. I have ten dollars.” She turned to Charlie and whispered, “It’s from the Pep Squad candy sale, but I’m sure they’ll understand.” The look on Elliott’s face almost split Charlie’s heart right down the middle. Here she was helping him and offering money, and this had to be the worst thing in the world for her.

  “Nope,” Jack said.

  Elliott reached into her other pocket and pulled out three lemon drops. The wrappers were extra crinkled, the candy faded. It looked like she had been saving them for a long time. “What about some candy? You love these.” She paused, catching herself. “Loved these.”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you want then?” Charlie asked, his voice more desperate now.

  Jack leaned forward so close that with only one step, Elliott could have reached out and pulled him into a hug. Charlie wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed, reminding her that he was still there. Ruby nosed in between them, pressing on both of their legs.

  Up this close, Charlie could see Jack’s eyes. They were as empty as the street. Just like Not-Mom’s. He tried to pull Elliott back, but her sneakers stayed glued to the ground below her, her eyes fixed on Jack.

  Jack’s grin grew. He smacked his lips together as if he were a dog waiting for a bone. “I want a memory.”

  UNKNOWN PROBABILITY

  Charlie liked to base decisions on numbers. For example, he had calculated that there was a 75 percent chance Mrs. Lutz would collect their Spanish homework on Tuesday, and there was a 25 percent chance he and June would get in trouble for launching her potato cannon.

  Numbers couldn’t help him now, though. He had no idea how many memories he had lost so far, since he couldn’t remember them. And how many memories did he still have left to lose?

  But Jack wouldn’t tell them what they needed to know without one.

  Before Charlie could speak, Elliott angled herself in front of him. “You’re my brother.”

  “He’s not,” Charlie whispered, but Elliott didn’t seem to hear him.

  “Take one of mine,” she said. She pulled her ponytail between her fingers, nervously twisting the strands.

  This was something Charlie hadn’t bet on.

  He shook his head. “No. I can’t let you do that.”

  “You’re not letting me do anything. I am choosing this.” Her voice caught. “I am choosing it. I’m going to help Imogen.” Ruby whined and started to pace. Elliott put a hand on her head to still her and knelt down so they were at eye level. “I’ll be all right.”

  Not-Jack grinned. “Tell me a story about us, Elly. A good one.”

  Elliott cleared her throat, grabbing Charlie’s wrist and pulling him closer. He jumped as she breathed in his ear, “Please remember what I’m going to say so you can give my memory back to me later.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that. I promise.”

  Elliott nodded and looked down as if she could see the memory played out on the sidewalk. “We were at this little amusement park called Coney Island and the sun, it was like an orange in the sky, so big and bright that you just thought you could reach up and take a bite out of it. And the sky was the bluest—no clouds in sight—and it honestly didn’t even look real. It was like we had stepped into a fancy painting you see at the museum.

  “And it was me and you”—she paused for a moment, looking at Not-Jack—“and Mom and Dad. Dad wanted some funnel cake—he only had it once a year—and the line was superlong. So Mom went and stood in line and everything smelled so delicious and fried. And you started to get antsy, so Dad said he’d take us on a ride and Mom said in her best Mom voice, ‘Anything but the Ferris wheel.’ You know, because we were small and Mom never liked heights. So, of course, that’s what Dad took us on.

  “We loaded in the cart—you were in between me and Dad, and the metal bar was snug in our laps and up we went. When we looked out at the top, you could see the Ohio River and the ferryboats and then Mom waving below, the funnel cake flying into the air when she saw us—and you just thought it was the greatest thing. You wouldn’t stop laughing.

  “By the time we got down to the ground, Dad was laughing and I was laughing and even Mom was laughing—kind of mad laughing but still laughing—and it was just the best day. And sometimes now, when I’m having a bad day, I think of you laughing on that Ferris wheel.”

  Charlie put his hand on Elliott’s shoulder as his eyes started to get prickles behind them. She had never shared that with the group before. And now she’d never be able to remember it on her own again, because Not-Jack had taken it from her. But Charlie was determined to remember it for her, and he tucked it away in the cabinet of Things I’ll Never Forget.

  Two seconds after she had finished giving the memory, Elliott winced and closed her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. Her hand flew to the back of her neck for the second time since they had been there, massaging the skin.

  “I like that story. I want another one,” Jack said.

  Elliott opened her mouth, but Charlie held out his hand to stop her. It was shaking. “She’s not going to tell you any more stories. Where did Imogen and Not-Mom go?”

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You said you’d answer our question,” Elliott said. She had her hand to her forehead now, her eyes half-closed. “Please.”

  Ruby growled and looked up at Charlie expectantly. Charlie shook his head. His heart began to beat faster. Elliott had given up one of her memories, Elliott was hurting, and Jack wasn’t going to give them anything for it.

  “I never said I’d answer any question. Try again.”

  Charlie grabbed the ball out of his hands and punted it across the street. “Hey,” Jack said. “I was playing with that.”

  “You can have it back when you tell us where Imogen went.”

  Jack paused, like he was thinking about answering, and then said, “Nope.”

  With that, Charlie snapped. “Why are you so terrible?” The minute the words left his mouth, he wished he could stuff them back in.

  “There’s your question,” Jack said. Then he laughed and laughed. But at that point, Charlie couldn’t hear anything clearly because of the violent rushing in his brain. It was as if the entire ocean were between his ears.

  He backed away, his eyes wide. He had wasted their question. He had wasted Elliott’s memory.

  He wished he could take it back. There was so much he wished he could take back.

  But he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. Not until he saved Imogen.

  A cold nose pressed into his palm and a hand gently grabbed his elbow. Elliott said, “Let’s go, Charlie.”

  JOE’S BOWL-A-RAMA

  Charlie’s cheeks burned, a
nd he couldn’t look Elliott in the eye. Ruby pushed up against his leg as if trying to keep him upright. Her touch reminded him to keep going.

  He didn’t know anything more about where they were headed, but he at least knew that they had to get there fast. Now Not-Mom wasn’t the only Echo they’d have to deal with. They’d search the entire city if they had to. Charlie flipped up the panel on the side of the garage and punched in the code. The door opened. Bikes would be the best way to get around.

  Mom’s bike hung on the wall like it was waiting for her to ride it. Charlie hoped it still had air in its tires. He handed her bike to Elliott and grabbed his own.

  “What about Ruby?” Elliott asked, brushing some of the dust off a helmet she found on the ground. She snapped the straps under her chin.

  “There should be a wagon in here somewhere,” Charlie said. He figured they couldn’t quite put Ruby in their laps when they were riding or have her stand on the back wheel pegs like Frank always had when they rode together. “Maybe we can attach it to the back of one of our bikes and pull her along.”

  Charlie and Ruby went to the back of the garage, where the wagon normally sat tucked behind a wheelbarrow. It wasn’t there. Ruby sniffed the ground around it and then dropped the slipper she had been carrying around on a little pile of dust. “What is it?” Charlie asked. He knelt down for a closer look.

  There was a pattern in the dust and dirt. Tire tracks.

  “I think I know where they went next!” Charlie said. “They must have taken the wagon. We’d sometimes walk to the library when it was nice out. Imogen always wanted to bring home, like, a billion books, so we’d bring the wagon.”

  Elliott smiled and Ruby barked. Charlie felt a little spark of joy warm his insides for a moment, the same sense of satisfaction he got when he solved a Mathletes problem. But then the spark dimmed and flickered out.

  He knew how to get to Imogen. The list and the bikes—that was figured out.

  What he didn’t know was how to get Imogen to listen to him. To choose him, her life in the real world, and what could be instead of Not-Mom and what had been. He’d have to find a way to get through to her—and right now, he didn’t have any clear solutions.