The Keeper of Lost Things Read online

“I love it,” I lied. All those girls prancing around were not my idea of fun. Give me a pair of ballet flats over pointed shoes any day. I wasn’t going to ruin the little girl’s dream and tell her how much work went into staying in that kind of shape.

  Someone else could crush her dream.

  “I always wanted to have a big sister,” April said. I instantly felt bad about misleading her. She didn’t deserve to have a big sister that wasn’t going to really be a big sister. This dinner was probably going to be the first and last one.

  I held my tongue instead of lying to her. She could interpret that any way she liked. Samantha could field all the questions about why I wasn’t visiting in the future.

  April insisted on showing me her entire My Little Pony collection, introducing the horses one at a time and telling me their background story.

  When it started to get late I excused myself and April followed me downstairs. Samantha was folding laundry, it looked like such a motherly thing to do that I stared at her for a while as the words left my head.

  It took a bit of stuttering before I could speak. “I should go, it’s getting late. I have school tomorrow and everything.”

  “Would you like a lift home?” Of course she would ask that question, everything about Samantha screamed that she was an excellent mother.

  “There’s a bus stop just down the road,” I replied, pointing in the general direction.

  She waved my words away like she was playing tennis. “Don’t be silly. I’m not going to let a teenager walk the streets in the dark. Anything could happen.” She grabbed the keys off the hook by the door and was out before I could argue.

  We all piled into her minivan–of course–and I gave her directions home. She took me all the way to the door, pulling up on the curb. “Thank you for the lift,” I said as I got out.

  “Bye, Emmy!” April called out from the backseat.

  “See you, April.” She held up her doll. “And you too, Molly.”

  Samantha gave me the parental look, the one that said she was about to say something meaningful and I should listen. “It was a pleasure having you over tonight, Em. If you need anything or just want to stop by, our door is always open. Okay?”

  I nodded and thanked her again before closing the car door. Samantha only left when I was inside the house safely, watching my every move until she could no longer see me.

  So that was what having a mother felt like.

  Protected, loved, wanted, needed, cherished.

  All were words that didn’t apply to me.

  “Em, is that you?” Uncle Marvin called out.

  I stepped into his line of sight. “Yeah.”

  “I heard a car pull away. Who was it?”

  “One of the teachers dropped me home after the study group,” I said, sounding so convincing I would have believed it myself if I didn’t know the truth.

  Uncle Marvin just gave an undecipherable grunt in reply. It was his usual dismissal. I went upstairs and tried to get Samantha and April out of my head. If I spent any more time with them it might feel too natural, like I was actually a part of their family.

  I wasn’t the big sister type.

  I wasn’t the daughter type.

  My place in this world was as a perpetual burden/domestic slave for an uncle that was counting down the days until I was legally not his problem anymore.

  That was who Emmeline Grace Gabrielle was.

  The piping-hot shower didn’t turn around the melancholy coursing around my blood. Nor did the homework that I tried to finish because it was due the next day.

  I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw a montage of my dad, Samantha, April, and Uncle Marvin. They were there, painted on the backs of my eyelids and refusing to budge.

  Sleeping definitely wasn’t going to be an option.

  I crawled out of bed and threw a hoodie on over my pajamas. The house was in complete darkness when I crept down the stairs. Until I reached the living room. Uncle Marvin had gone to sleep in his favorite chair, slumbering in front of the night time infomercials.

  Picking up my shoes from beside the door, I slipped out and then put them on my feet. I wasn’t sure where I was going or why, but I knew I couldn’t continue to stare at the ceiling in my bedroom.

  I started walking.

  And ended up somewhere completely unexpected.

  Chapter 13

  Frankie’s house was all in darkness. I shouldn’t have expected anything else. Real families all went to bed at a reasonable hour, not having horrible problems to mull over.

  The stone was in my hand before I realized what I was doing. I launched it at Frankie’s window and waited. When he didn’t appear, I did it again.

  Once more.

  His confused face appeared, framed by the white windowpanes. I ducked into the shadows at the side of the entrance steps, my heart thumping out a frantic beat.

  What was I doing?

  I was supposed to be pushing Frankie away so he didn’t get close. And I was throwing pebbles at his window in the middle of the night?

  If it wasn’t for the overwhelming need to spill all the words held on my tongue, I would have continued to hide there in the dirty corner of the sidewalk.

  I crept out again and saw the window empty once more. Another stone left my hand and pinged against his window. This time he appeared quickly, searching the street for the source of the tapping.

  Everything told me to hide again but I didn’t.

  I waved.

  Frankie spotted me easily, the crazed lunatic in blue pajamas and a red hoodie was pretty hard to miss. He returned my wave and then pointed downwards before disappearing again. I wasn’t up on my sign language but I guessed it meant he was on his way down.

  I didn’t feel so bad in my getup when Frankie joined me. He was wearing pajamas of his own–Star Wars ones. If there was anyone who could pull off Star Wars pjs, it was Frankie Bolero. His hair was messy on one side and flat at an odd angle on the other, supreme bed head. He looked adorable.

  “Nice duds,” I said.

  “Like you can talk,” he replied, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. He sat on the stairs in front of his house and looked out into the street without saying anything further. I sat beside him.

  All the reasons I decided to come speak with him just seemed silly now. I should have remained in bed and counted the cracks along the wall instead. It would have been far less embarrassing.

  The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable. I picked at the skin on my fingers, trying to pretend it was the most interesting thing in the world to do. Like it was normal to be sitting on the street in the dead of the night in our pajamas.

  I had to say something.

  I had to.

  “I’m sorry I was mean to you,” I said. Apologizing wasn’t something I was used to, but Frankie deserved one. I had been horrible to him and he hadn’t done anything wrong. If I had to break the silence, I may as well say something worthwhile.

  “It’s okay,” Frankie replied.

  “No, it’s not. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way when you were just being nice to me.”

  He shrugged and looked so cute in his pjs that I wanted to snuggle against him like he was a childhood teddy bear. I’d never felt that way about anyone before. I linked my hands together so they didn’t do anything they really shouldn’t.

  “I like being nice to you,” he said. “I don’t want anything from you, you know. I just want to help.”

  “I know.”

  “Can I keep helping you?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Silence again.

  Crickets chirped in the few garden beds on the street that refused to die from all the car fumes. They were sturdy and tough, not letting anyone hurt them, kind of like me I guess.

  My mouth opened and words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I went to have dinner with my stepmother and half-sister tonight.”

  “Yeah? How’d that go?”

  �
�They seem like a nice family.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know how to be a part of a nice family.” My gaze flicked up to meet Frankie’s. His eyes sparkled even in the moonlight like he was internally have a joke about something. I wished mine didn’t seem so flat in response.

  “You can learn, you know.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll ruin it. I’ll ruin them. They are perfectly fine without me.”

  Frankie’s warm hand covered mine on my knee. I stared at his five fingers for a moment, trying to work out if I liked him touching me or not.

  I shouldn’t have enjoyed it.

  I should have pulled my hand away.

  But I didn’t.

  He was changing me and I didn’t know if I wanted to be changed yet. It seemed like the world was spinning too fast, making me nauseous and dizzy. I could either beg to be let off or run to catch up with it.

  I wasn’t sure yet what I should do.

  “You aren’t going to ruin anything,” Frankie said, keeping his hand on mine. I was acutely aware of our skin burning against one another. “It’s easy to be part of a family. All you have to do is get along, and that isn’t even a requirement sometimes. Just talk to your stepmom and sister.”

  “Half-sister,” I corrected.

  “Talk to your half-sister. Just be open and ready to let them in. You’ll work it out, I know you will.”

  “I don’t share your optimistic view of my future.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “You can do it, Em. Not everyone is like your Uncle Marvin. Most people are never that grumpy or scary. You might even enjoy being part of a family.”

  “Do you think they really want to get to know me, or are they just pretending to be kind?” I let the sentence hang in the air, my heart hanging from the end. It could either be crushed or it would fly, either way I wished I could know the outcome. I could prepare for disappointment, I was used to it. I just needed to be able to see it before it happened.

  “I bet they are really excited to know you.”

  “You really think so?”

  He nodded kindly. Perhaps he was just being nice now. “I really believe it. You’re a good person, Em. You just haven’t been dealt the lucky cards in life.”

  I liked the way Frankie put things.

  Unlucky cards, that was my hand. My father made sure of that when he lost me and never bothered to look and find me. I stood up and faced Frankie. “Thank you for the conversation.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like sleep is a requirement or anything.” For a moment I thought he was angry with me but then his lips curled into a smile. “See you tomorrow, Em. Sleep well.”

  He started moving toward the front door when I turned and started walking down the street. The way back home didn’t seem as long now. I had one person that believed in me, which was one more than I’d ever had before.

  Frankie was a miracle.

  I didn’t deserve his kind words or his friendship but I took them anyway. I would bundle them together with a tight rubber band so they would never escape and leave me.

  The front window of my house was still basking in the flickering blue light of the television when I approached. I stopped in the archway and peered in.

  Uncle Marvin was still asleep in his favorite chair. I didn’t know why he bothered to have a bed when he mostly slept in the living room anyway. I could cut down on my cleaning time by a few minutes if he did away with his bedroom.

  He didn’t look like a killer while he was asleep. A stream of drool was hanging from his mouth, vicariously close to falling on his grey singlet. He would have a wet patch there by morning.

  The police had to be wrong. There was no way Uncle Marvin was involved in my father’s disappearance. The only thing he could murder was a dozen donuts.

  Which he did.

  Often.

  The police were looking in the wrong place and that didn’t bode well for finding him. If they were too caught up in investigating my uncle they would be too blind to search for the real reason of his disappearance.

  I wanted him found.

  More than anything.

  He had answers for me that I needed. So, so many questions.

  I went to bed and tried to pretend I wasn’t tired the next day. I didn’t speak with Uncle Marvin that morning. Nor for any other morning that week. If he wasn’t sleeping on the couch he was working. So much for guardian supervision.

  Saturday was a welcome relief from school. I didn’t have a reason to visit the Tip Shop but I felt like going there anyway. Seeing the Keeper of Discarded Things always cheered me up and I was hoping for the same result this time.

  Lucky for me, Mr. Adison was in a talkative mood. “You have to see what I found,” he said, his bushy eyebrows moving up and down like a caterpillar while his one remaining eye sparkled. “You’re never going to believe it. I never thought I’d ever find one again.”

  I followed after him, eager to see what had made him so excited. I’d learned to temper my unbridled anticipation. Past great finds had proven to be not so great. Like the time he showed me a left-handed can opener. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it looked like every other can opener I’d ever seen.

  We had to move to the very back of the shop, past all the dusty aisles and through the thin towel that separated the back from the front. It was a privilege to be admitted to the area past the ‘Strictly Staff Only’ sign (Mr. Adison found that one underneath a dead rat).

  “Hold out your hand,” he ordered. “And close your eyes.” The excitement and mischief he displayed on his face was enough to make me laugh. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

  Something heavy was placed on my open palms. It was cold and had the smoothness of metal. I could only imagine what was resting on my hands.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  I opened one first, peeking at Mr. Adison’s grin before I dared to have a good look at what I was holding. Even looking at the object didn’t help. It was a round sphere of grey metal. “I give up. What is it?”

  “Press the button.”

  There was a button?

  I turned the ball over and around until I found the tiny metal button. I pushed it and the thing came alive. All sides of the ball fell away, cracks that were completely hidden before now opened up to the moving parts.

  When it finished moving, the sides of the ball were hanging open like petals on an open flower. In the middle was a dancing pug. I kid you not, it was a dancing pug. The tiny metal dog was standing on its hind legs, a tutu around its waist with his front paws in the air forming an arc.

  I still had no idea what it was. “You’ve seen one of these before?”

  Mr. Adison nodded. “Nine years, four months, and thirteen days ago. It was sitting in a box of wood scraps. I pulled it out, pressed the button, and voila! Almost gave me a heart attack when it started opening.”

  “What’s it used for?” I asked. I knew everything in this world had a place and purpose. But for the life of me I was having trouble working this one out. It was lucky we had people like the Keeper of Discarded Things to keep things in check.

  “It’s just a trinket. When I saw the first one I looked it up online, tried to find out what it was all about. The only thing I could work out was that the Higgenbottom Bakery, established 1938, gave them away with a custard tart in the summer of ’68.”

  Call me impressed.

  I handed back the dancing pug and Mr. Adison carefully placed all the leaves back in place so it was a ball once more. “It’s cool. What did you do with the other one?”

  A wide smile cracked his face into two, all his toothless gums showing in all their wonderful glory. “Come on, Em, you know me well enough to know the answer to that.”

  I did.

  He kept it.

  If I took two steps to my left in the area he reserved for ‘Things I Want to Keep’, I would have seen the original sphere. I shook my head and let my own grin take over m
y lips. “You’ve got a pair now. I bet not many people can say that.”

  He elbowed me in the ribs. “Probably only the Higgenbottoms, right?”

  “Right.”

  I watched Mr. Adison as he carefully placed the new ball next to the old. His existing one didn’t have any dust or dirt on it, it shone like it would have done when new. He was a good man, he didn’t let anything feel unloved.

  Including me.

  Someone rang the bell on his counter so my oldest friend stepped back into the store to serve them. I followed a few steps back, scanning the shelves and taking in all the newest additions. It was truly amazing what people disposed of. Just because they no longer had a use for the item, it didn’t mean nobody else did either.

  “Can you believe this place?” The woman’s screechy voice captured my attention. She had already made herself known to my periphery, her expensive clothes seriously out of place in the tip shop. Her sunglasses would have cost more than the entire store put together.

  She was accompanied by a stick-thin man. What he lacked in girth he made up for in teeth. When he smiled–or smirked–it was like staring into the Tooth Fairy’s front yard. He picked up a book and let it drop onto the table again. “It’s all junk. They should close this place down. It’s a blight, that’s all it is.”

  The woman huffed and pulled her hands together, as if they might touch something and infect her with their dirt if she let them hang loose. “I’m going to have a word with our council representative.”

  I’d had enough.

  “If you don’t like it here, you should leave. Now,” I said. I pointed to the door just to make sure they didn’t waste any time dillydallying on the way out.

  They looked like dilly-dalliers.

  The woman pouted her lips together, doing a great impression of a fish, as she glared at me. “You’d better mind your manners, young lady.”

  “Maybe you should take your own advice, old lady.”

  Mr. Adison stepped next to me, his stance protective at my side. “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

  “Are you seriously evicting us from your trash store?” the man said. “This place is a dump. Literally, we are in a tip. You’ve got to be kidding me.”