Another night of shitty sleep. Only this time, my lack of sleep wasn’t because I was worried about myself, or even worried about what made Charlie and me lose our memories. My lack of sleep was strictly because I had two things on my mind: our kiss, and Charlie’s reaction to our kiss.
I don’t know why she walked away, or why she preferred to take a cab over riding with me. I could tell by the way she responded during the kiss that she felt what I was feeling. Of course it wasn’t like the kisses in fairy tales that could end a curse, but I don’t think either of us really expected it to. I’m not sure we really had any expectations for the kiss at all—just a little bit of hope.
What I certainly didn’t expect was for everything else to take a backseat once her lips pressed against mine, but that’s exactly what happened. I stopped thinking about the reason we were kissing and everything we had been through all day. All I could think about was how she was clenching my shirt in her fists, pulling me closer, wanting more. I could hear the small gasps of air she was sucking in between kisses, because as soon as our mouths met, we were both breathless. And even though she stopped the kiss and stepped away, I could still see the dazed look on her face and the way her eyes lingered on my mouth.
Despite all of it, though, she still turned and walked away. But if I’ve learned anything about Charlie in these last two days, it’s that there’s a reason for every move she makes. And it’s usually a good reason, which is why I didn’t try to stop her.
My phone receives a text, and I almost fall as I scramble out of the shower to get to it. I haven’t heard from her since we parted ways last night, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t beginning to worry.
My hope bleeds out of me when I see the text isn’t from Charlie. It’s from the kid I talked to at the diner last night, Eller.
Eller: Amy wants to know if Charlie rode with you to school. She’s not at home.
I turn off the water, despite not even having rinsed off yet. I grab a towel with one hand and respond to his text with the other.
Me: No, I haven’t even left my house yet. Has she tried her cell?
As soon as I send the text, I dial Charlie’s number and hit speaker, then set the phone down on the counter. I’m dressed by the time her voicemail picks up.
“Shit,” I mutter as I end the call. I open the door and stop by my bedroom long enough to get into my shoes and grab my keys. I make it downstairs, but freeze before I reach the front door.
There’s a woman in the kitchen, and she isn’t Ezra.
“Mom?”
The word comes out of my mouth before I realize I’m even speaking. She spins around, and even though I only recognize her from the pictures on the wall, I think I might feel something. I don’t know what it is. It’s not love or recognition. I’m just overcome with a sense of calmness.
No…it’s comfort. That’s what I feel.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says with a bright smile that reaches the corners of her eyes. She’s preparing breakfast—or maybe she’s cleaning after just finishing up breakfast. “Did you see the mail I put on your dresser yesterday? And how are you feeling?”
Landon looks more like her than I do. His jaw is soft, like hers. Mine is harsh, like my father’s. Landon carries himself like she does, too. Like life has been good to them.
She tilts her head and then closes the distance between us. “Silas, are you okay?”
I take a step back when she tries to touch her hand to my forehead. “I’m fine.”
She tucks her hand to her chest like it offends her that I backed away. “Oh,” she says. “Okay. Well, good. You already missed school this week and you have a game tonight.” She walks back into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t stay out so late when you’re sick.”
I stare at the back of her head, wondering why she would say that. This is the first time I’ve even seen her since all of this started. Ezra or my father must have told her about Charlie being here.
I wonder if Charlie being here upset her. I wonder if she and my father share the same opinion of Charlie.
“I feel fine now,” I reply. “I was with Charlie last night, that’s why I was home late.”
She doesn’t react to my baited comment. She doesn’t even look at me. I wait a few more seconds to see if she’s going to respond. When she doesn’t, I turn and head for the front door.
Landon is in the front seat already when I reach the car. I open the back door and throw my backpack inside. When I open the front, he reaches his hand out to me. “This was ringing. Found it under your seat.”
I take the phone from him. It’s Charlie’s.
“She left her phone in my car?”
Landon shrugs. I stare at the screen and there are several missed calls and texts. I see Brian’s name, along with Amy’s. I try to open them, but I’m prompted for a password.
“Get in the damn car, we’re already late!”
I climb inside and set Charlie’s phone on the console while I back out. When I pick it back up again to try and figure out the password, Landon snatches it out of my hands.
“Did you not learn anything from your fender bender last year?” He slaps the phone back down on the console.
I’m uneasy. I don’t like that Charlie doesn’t have her phone with her. I don’t like that she didn’t ride to school with Amy. If she already left her house before Amy got there, who did she ride to school with? I’m not sure how I’ll react if I find out she caught a ride with Brian.
“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Landon says. I glance over at him—at the cautious look on his face. “But…is Charlie pregnant?”
I slam on my brakes. Luckily there’s a light in front of us that turns red, so my reaction appears intentional.
“Pregnant? Why? Why would you ask that? Did you hear that from someone?”
Landon shakes his head. “No, it’s just…I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you and that seemed like the only justifiable answer.”
“I miss practice yesterday so you assume it’s because Charlie is pregnant?”
Landon laughs under his breath. “It’s more than just that, Silas. It’s everything. You fighting with Brian, the practices you’ve missed all week, you ditching school half a day Monday, all day Tuesday, half a day Wednesday. It’s not like you.”
I ditched school this week?
“Also, you and Charlie have been acting strange when you’re together. Not like your usual selves. You forgot to pick me up after school, you stayed out past curfew on a school night. You’ve been really off this week, and I don’t know if you want to tell me what the hell is going on, but it’s really starting to worry me.”
I watch as the disappointment fills his eyes.
We were close. He’s definitely a good brother, I can tell. He’s used to knowing all my secrets—all my thoughts. I wonder if these rides to and from school are when we normally share them. I wonder if I were to tell him what I’m really thinking—if he would even believe me.
“The light’s green,” he says, facing forward.
I begin driving again, but I don’t share any secrets with him. I don’t know what to say or how to even begin telling him the truth. I just know I don’t want to lie to him because that doesn’t seem like something the old Silas would do.
When I pull into a parking spot, he opens his door and gets out.
“Landon,” I say before he shuts the door. He leans down and looks at me. “I’m sorry. I’m just having an off week.”
He nods thoughtfully and turns his attention toward the school. He works his jaw back and forth and then locks eyes with me again. “Hopefully your week is back on before the game tonight,” he says. “You have a lot of pissed off teammates right now.”
He slams the door and begins walking in the direction of the school. I grab Charlie’s phone and head inside.
I couldn’t find her in the halls, so I went to my first two classes. I’m headed to my third now, still with no word from her. I’m sure she just slept late and I’ll see her when we have class together fourth period. But still—something doesn’t feel right. Everything feels off.
She could just be avoiding me, but that doesn’t seem like something she would do. She wouldn’t go out of her way to let me know she doesn’t want to speak to me. She’d throw it in my face.
I go to my locker to find my third period math book. I would check her locker to see if any of her textbooks are missing, but I don’t know the combination to her lock. It was written on her schedule, but I gave that to her yesterday.
“Silas!”
I turn around to see Andrew fighting his way through the crowded hallway like a fish swimming upstream. He finally gives up and yells, “Janette wants you to call her!” He turns and heads in the opposite direction again.
Janette…Janette…Janette…
Charlie’s sister!
I find her name in the contacts in my phone. She answers on the first ring.
“Silas?” she says.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Is Charlie with you?”
I close my eyes, feeling the panic begin to settle in the pit of my stomach. “No,” I reply. “She didn’t come home last night?”
“No,” Janette says. “I normally wouldn’t be worried, but she usually tells me if she’s not coming home. She never called and now she’s not responding to my texts.”
“I have her phone.”
“Why do you have her phone?”
“She left it in my car,” I say. I close my locker and begin to head toward the exit. “We got into an argument last night and she got in a cab. I thought she was going straight home.”
I stop walking when it hits me. She didn’t have lunch money yesterday—which means she wouldn’t have had cab fare last night.
“I’m leaving school,” I tell Janette. “I’ll find her.”
I hang up before I even give her a chance to respond. I sprint down the hallway toward the door that leads to the parking lot, but as soon as I round the corner, I stop short.
Avril.
Shit. Now is not the time for this. I try to duck my head and walk past her, but she grabs the sleeve of my shirt. I stop walking and face her.
“Avril, I can’t right now.” I point to the exit. “I need to leave. Kind of an emergency.”
She releases my shirt and folds her arms over her chest. “You never showed up during lunch yesterday. I thought maybe you were running late, but when I checked the cafeteria, you were there. With her.”
Christ, I don’t have time for this. In fact, I think I’ll save myself any future trouble and just end it now.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah,” I say. “Charlie and I…we decided to work things out.”
Avril tilts her head and shoots me an incredulous look. “No, Silas. That isn’t what you want, and it’s definitely not going to work for me.”
I look left, down the hall, and then right. When I see no one’s around, I take a step toward her. “Listen, Ms. Ashley,” I say, taking care to address her professionally. I look her directly in the eyes. “I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me how things are going to be between the two of us.”
Her eyes immediately narrow. She stands silently for several seconds as though she’s waiting for me to laugh and tell her I’m only kidding. When I don’t falter, she huffs and shoves her hands against my chest, pushing me out of the way. The click of her heels begins to fade the further I sprint away from her—toward the exit.
I’m knocking for a third time on Charlie’s front door when it finally flies open. Her mother is standing in front of me. Wild hair, wilder eyes. It’s as if hatred spews from her soul the moment she realizes I’m standing here.
“What do you want?” she spits.
I try to glance past her to get a look inside the house. She moves to block my view, so I point over her shoulder. “I need to talk to Charlie. Is she here?”
Her mother takes a step outside and pulls the door shut behind her so that I can’t see inside at all. “That’s none of your business,” she hisses. “Get the hell off my property!”
“Is she here or not?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “If you aren’t out of my driveway in five seconds, I’m calling the police.”
I throw my hands up in defeat and groan. “I’m worried about your daughter, so can you please put your anger aside for one minute and tell me if she’s inside?”
She takes two quick steps toward me and pokes a finger into my chest. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!”
Jesus Christ.
I push past her and kick open the door. The first thing I’m hit with is the smell. The air is stale. A fog of thick cigarette smoke fills the air and assaults my lungs. I hold my breath as I make my way through the living room. There’s a bottle of whiskey open on the bar, sitting next to an empty glass. Mail is scattered across the table—what looks like several days’ worth. It’s like this woman doesn’t even care enough to open any of it. The envelope on the top of the stack is addressed to Charlie.
I move to pick it up, but hear the woman stalking into the house behind me. I make my way down the hall and see two doors to my right and one on the left. I push open the door to my left, just as Charlie’s mother begins screaming from behind me. I ignore her and make my way into the bedroom.
“Charlie!” I yell. I glance around the room, knowing she isn’t here, but still hoping I’m wrong. If she isn’t here, I don’t know where else to look. I don’t remember any of the places we used to hang out.
But neither would Charlie, I guess.
“Silas!” her mother yells from the doorway to the bedroom. “Get out! I’m calling the police!” She disappears from the doorway, probably to retrieve a phone. I continue my search for…I don’t even know. Charlie obviously isn’t here, but I keep looking around anyway, hoping to find something that could help.
I know which side of the room is Charlie’s because of the picture of the gate above her bed. The one she said I took.
I look around for clues, but find nothing. I remember her mentioning something about an attic in her closet, so I check the closet. There’s a small hole at the top of it. It looks like she uses her shelves as steps. “Charlie!” I call out.
Nothing.
“Charlie, are you up there?”
Just as I check the sturdiness of the bottom shelf with my foot, something slams against the side of my head. I turn, but immediately duck again when I see a plate fly out of the woman’s hand. It crashes against the wall next to my head. “Get out!” she screams. She’s looking for more things to throw, so I put my hands up in surrender.
“I’m leaving,” I tell her. “I’ll leave!”
She moves out of the doorway to let me pass. She’s still yelling as I make my way down the hall. As I walk toward the front door, I swipe the letter off the bar that was addressed to Charlie. I don’t even bother telling Charlie’s mother to have her call me if she makes it home.
I get in my car and pull back onto the street.
Where the hell is she?
I wait until I’m a few miles away and then I pull over to check her phone again. Landon mentioned he heard it ringing under the seat, so I lean over and reach my hand beneath the seat. I pull out an empty soda can, a shoe and then finally—her wallet. I open it and sift through it, but find nothing I don’t already know.
She’s somewhere out there, without her phone or her wallet. She doesn’t have anyone’s numbers memorized. If she didn’t come home, where would she have gone?
I punch the steering wheel. “Dammit, Silas!”
I should have never let her leave by herself.
This is all my fault.
My phone receives an incoming text. The text is from Landon, wondering why I left school.
I drop the phone back onto the seat and notice the letter I stole from Charlie’s house. There’s no return address. The date stamp in the top corner is from Tuesday—the day before all of this happened.
I open the envelope and find several pages inside, folded together. Across the front, it reads, “Open immediately.”
I unfold the pages and my eyes instantly fall to the two names written at the top of the page.
Charlie and Silas,
It’s addressed to both of us? I keep reading.
If you don’t know why you’re reading this, then you’ve forgotten everything. You recognize no one, not even yourselves.
Please don’t panic, and read this letter in its entirety. We will share everything we know, which right now isn’t much.
What the hell? My hands begin to shake as I continue reading.
We aren’t sure what happened, but we’re afraid if we don’t write it down, it might happen again. At least with everything written down and left in more than one place, we’ll be more prepared if it does happen again.
On the following pages, you’ll find all the information we know. Maybe it will help in some way.
~Charlie and Silas.
I stare at the names at the bottom of the page until my vision is blurry.
I look at the names at the top of the page again. Charlie and Silas.
I look at the names at the bottom. Charlie and Silas.
We wrote ourselves a letter?
It makes no sense. If we wrote ourselves a letter…
I immediately flip to the pages that follow. The first two pages are things I already know. Our addresses, our phone numbers. Where we go to school, what our classes are, our siblings’ names, our parents’ names. I read through it all as fast as I possibly can.
My hands are shaking so badly by the third page, I can hardly read the handwriting. I set the page in my lap to finish. It’s more personal information—a list of things we’ve figured out about one another already, our relationship, how long we’ve been together. The letter mentions Brian’s name as someone who keeps texting Charlie. I skip over all the familiar information until I get close to the end of the third page.
The first memories either of us can recall are from Saturday, October 4th, around 11am. Today is Sunday, October 5th. We’re going to make a copy of this letter for ourselves, but will also mail copies in the morning, just to be safe.
I flip to the fourth page and it’s dated Tuesday, October 7th.
It happened again. This time, it happened during history class on Monday, October 6th. It appears to have happened at the same time of day, 48 hours later. We don’t have anything new to add to the letter. We both did our best to stay away from friends and family the past day, faking illnesses. We’ve been calling one another with any information we know, but so far it seems this has happened twice. The first time being Saturday, the second being Monday. Wish we had more information, but we’re still kind of freaked out that this is happening and aren’t sure what to do about it. We’ll do what we did last time and mail copies of this letter to ourselves. Also, there will be a copy in the glove box of Silas’ car. That’s the first place we looked this time, so there’s a good chance you’ll look there again.
I never checked the glove box.
We’ll keep the original letters somewhere safe so no one will find them. We’re afraid if anyone sees the letters, or if anyone suspects anything, they’ll think we’re going crazy. Everything will be in a box on the back of the third shelf of Silas’ bedroom closet. If this pattern continues, there’s a chance it could happen again on Wednesday at the same time. In case it does, this letter should arrive to both of you that day.
I look at the time stamp on the envelope again. It was mailed first thing Tuesday morning. And Wednesday at 11am is exactly when this happened to us.
If you find anything out that will help, add it to the next page and keep this going until we figure out what started it. And how to stop it.
I flip to the last page, but it’s blank.
I look at the clock. It’s 10:57am. It’s Friday. This happened to us almost 48 hours ago.
My chest is heaving.
This can’t be happening.
48 hours will be up in less than three minutes.
I flip open my console and search for a pen. I don’t find one, so I yank open the glove box. Right on top is a copy of the same letter with mine and Charlie’s names on it. I lift it up and there are several pens, so I grab one and flatten the paper out against the steering wheel.
It happened again, I write. My hands are shaking so bad, I drop the pen. I pick it up again and keep writing.
At 11am, Wednesday, October 8th, Charlie and I both lost our memories for what appears to be the third time in a row. Things we’ve learned in the last 48 hours:
-Our fathers used to work together.
-Charlie’s father is in prison.
I’m writing as fast as I can, trying to figure out which points I need to write down first—which are the most important, because I’m almost out of time.
-We visited a tarot reader on St. Philip Street. That might be worth checking out again.
-Charlie mentioned a girl at school—called her The Shrimp. Said she wanted to talk to her.
-Charlie has an attic in her bedroom closet. She spends a lot of time in there.
I feel like I’m wasting time. I feel like I’m not adding anything of importance to this damn list. If this is true and it’s about to happen again, I won’t have time to mail a letter, much less make copies. Hopefully if I have it in my hands, I’ll be smart enough to read it and not just toss it aside.
I bite the tip of the pen, attempting to focus on what to write next.
-We grew up together, but now our families hate each other. They don’t want us together.
-Silas was sleeping with the guidance counselor, Charlie with Brian Finley. We broke it off with both of them.
-Landon is a good brother, you can probably trust him if you have to.
I continue to write. I write about our tattoos, the Electric Crush Diner, Ezra and anything and everything I can recall from the last 48 hours.
I look at the clock. 10:59.
Charlie doesn’t know about this letter. If everything in this letter so far is accurate and this really has been happening to us since last Saturday, that means she’s about to forget everything she’s learned in the past 48 hours. And I have no idea how to find her. How to warn her.
I press the pen to the paper again and write one last thing.
-Charlie got into a cab on Bourbon Street last night and no one has seen her since. She doesn’t know about this letter. Find her. The first thing you need to do is find her. Please.