(Price)

His fists clenched: a warning sign. Blood was already underneath his fingernails, dark red and flaking. “For the last time…” He said, teeth clenched. “Move.”

“No!” Atticus was grinning at him, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. At nearly four feet shorter, with curls like Jewel and the temperament of a wild animal, he was at once charming and impossible. He waved a picture book in the air, triumphant. “I found it first! And now you have to read to me!”

With a sigh, Price knelt. His back already ached from speaking down to his little brother. “Kid, we don’t have time to read another book.”

“No!” Atticus was shrieking now. He threw the book on the floor and stomped his feet, lower lip quivering. In about five minutes, Price predicated a full scale meltdown. Category four. A librarian stocking shelves, hands full of picture books, shot them both a warning look.

“Inside voices.” She hissed. Her long plaid skirt swung as she turned, marching briskly down another aisle. Price glared at her retreating figure. Inside voices. Classic. He thought bitterly. Atticus was still teary-eyed, and his cheeks were slowly flushing red. They didn’t have long now – only about two minutes.

“Atti,” Price pleaded, picking the book up from the floor, “I’ll read it when we get home.”

“I want it now!” Atticus started stomping his feet. The lights imbedded in the soles of his Sketcher’s sneakers started flashing red.

“Okay, time to go.” Price stood quickly, dropping the picture back on the floor, and grabbed Atticus’s hand. He dragged his protesting little brother to the other side of the children’s section, where Jewel was sitting on a yellow beanbag, staring out the window. “Come on, kid. You get a book?”

Jewel stood carefully, movements slow. She had been like this the entire weekend, every action deliberate. Silent, downcast. Price felt his patience threatening to wilt again, with Atticus sniffling on one side, and a child of the ice queen on the other.  

“Jewel,” He repeated, “Come on.”

Jewel held up her book. I haven’t finished this, she seemed to be saying. She pushed past Price to checkout. “How come she gets to get a book?” Atticus started gulping. He scrubbed his tiny, round blue eyes with his free hand. “Price, I wanna book!”

Price marched over to the counter and grabbed Jewel. “Leaving, Jewel. Leaving.” The librarian from before, now behind the counter, gave him a sickly smile.

“Have a great day!”

He gritted his teeth as he led his siblings away. As soon as they passed into the daylight, out through the double doors of the library, Atticus started screaming.

“Price! Price!” He planted both feet firmly on the pavement and refused to move. “I wanna…I wanna…book!” His voice was a loud, shrill wail, and Price winced.

“Shut up.” He jerked Atticus’s arm. “You hear me? Shut. Up.” When Atticus refused to quiet, this time sitting on the pavement, Price bent down and scooped him up in his arms. He pointed at Jewel. “Car. Now.”

Loading an unhappy toddler into a car seat was a quite a feat. Price, straining to avoid tiny flying fists and strap the seatbelt over Atticus’s jerking body, decided that he hated children. He finally succeeded in fastening the seatbelt, only to turn around and hear a devastating click.

“Atticus!” He gripped his head with his hands. Take the kids to the library, Lily had said. Let them read. What happened when, three hours later, they were late for a play practice and still wanted to read? He slid into the driver’s seat and pointed at Jewel in the rearview mirror. “Strap your brother in, please.”

He felt like a father. This was ridiculous. Lily had taken on a night shift at work in a desperate attempt to make ends meet. Her salary right now, combined with Price’s cart pushing job, just wasn’t enough. When he had agreed to start driving Atticus and Jewel to and from school, and play practice, and soccer, and the library, birthday parties, or playdates, he had no idea what kind of commitment that required. His four weekend work days were spent rushing through his job, mind filled with a million more things than pushing carts.  

“Jewel? All set?” She gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to the window. She was staring again, fixated upon the unknown. Price gripped the steering wheel, clenching his fists. Calm. Calm, calm, calm.

Atticus stopped crying halfway home. His face was red, cheeks and eyes puffy. “Where’s Charliegh?” He could barely choke out the words, but he waited expectantly for the answer. Price stared back, brow furrowing.

How could he answer that? I hit her. She hasn’t been around because of me.

“She got really busy, kiddo.”

“Oh.” He sniffed. “I miss her.”

Price inhaled deeply. “Yeah. I’m sure you do. She told me…to tell you she’ll be back soon.”

“Tell her I miss her.” Atticus’s eyes were solemn as he regarded his older brother. “Really miss her.”

“Okay. Will do.” Of course I’ll tell the girl I beat up that my little brother misses her. What isn’t unusual about that? When they got home, Price prepared a quick snack of goldfish and apple juice. The phone rang while Atticus and Jewel were eating.

“Hello?” Price pushed the receiver under one ear, keeping a wary eye on Atticus. He looked in the mood to tip over his juice.

“Uhm, hey. Is this Price?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Who’s this?”

“This is Sylas. King. I’m friends with Charliegh.”

“Okay…” Price grabbed the bag of goldfish from Atticus, averting a minor food-drop crisis.

“Did you see her in school today?”

“No. Listen, I don’t know how you got my number, but –”

“– the reason I’m calling is because she wasn’t. You were in the church directory, and she’s mentioned you a couple times, so I didn’t know if you knew anything.”

Price rolled his eyes. Charliegh skipped school today – so what? He had been so wrapped up in coordinating the rest of his day to accommodate a trip to the library and play practice that he had forgotten to look for her. Unless…

“You think she’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I do.” Sylas sucked in his breath. “This is really weird. Unusual, man.”

What trouble could she possible get into around Redemption? Price was about to open his mouth, and then remembered. He Who Should Not Be Named. He tried to wrap his head around an unfamiliar thought: even in this tiny, dull town, it didn’t take much to fall into trouble.

But the thing about trouble was, you had to be looking for it.

“I’ll call you if I hear anything. Okay? She probably…” Price squashed his fears. “…just had a late night. It was Town Days this weekend, and she always works overtime.”

“I know that.” Sylas sounded exasperated. “I don’t think you get it – this isn’t normal.”

What wasn’t normal was how concerned this Sylas kid was about Charliegh. Unless. Price thought of the lanky, scruffy boy that had carried Charliegh into her house a few days ago. Was that Sylas? The boy who looked intimately familiar with her house, and situations such as those?

“I have to go. Call me if you find anything out.” Price didn’t wait for Sylas to reply. He ended the call and plunked the receiver onto the counter. If Sylas wanted to play babysitter for Charliegh, then so be it.

Right now, he had kids to take care of, places to be. Yet as he wiped down the table, setting empty juice glasses and plates into the sink, a thought tugged at his mind. He tried to banish it, cranking up the radio on the way to the church for play practice. He hummed as he dropped Jewel and Atticus off, taking his place among the pews of starry-eyed mothers watching their children recite lines in monotone. He couldn’t stop running it over and over in his mind, even after watching a noisy, chaotic rehearsal of God’s Game Show.

Why did he feel that somehow, this was his fault?

***