The Unlocked (Charlie Hartley Series Book 1) (2 page)

“Nothing in particular. I
always wondered if she would sense it. She’s never asked.”

“Remember when she first
exhibited her power a couple of weeks after we got her?” Carl began.  “She
was in her crib reaching for the milk bottle by her feet. I saw her motion the
bottle to come to her. And roll it did! Oh my God, it scared me to death!”

Sarah smiled at the memory.
“Yes, it’s still so fresh in my mind. When the bottle reached her hand, she
just broke into a big angelic smile, looked at you and called you Dada for the
first time.” Sarah went on. “Her rattle moved towards her, remember? She was in
her playpen, holding on to its sides and walking around it. Then she pointed to
the rattle that was on the high chair. Would have been nice if we had phone
videos then. I bet people would still be amazed seeing a baby point to a rattle
that jumps off the high chair, lands on the floor, and rolls toward the
playpen.”

Carl acknowledged and added,
“And what about the time we found Charlie giggling in her high chair, making
her plastic spoon dance by twirling her index finger above it?” Sarah eagerly
finished the story. “Yes, I was so awed by that, but when Charlie realized I
was staring at her, she burst into a fit and threw the spoon at me.” The two
laughed in glee at recounting those special moments.

Both agreed Charlie’s arrival
in their life was the best thing that ever happened t
o
them. Sarah reminisced how she used to be unfamiliar with cooking. But when
Charlie arrived, she became the mother who loved to experiment with recipes to
satisfy her daughter’s tummy. “I think I’ll try something new for tomorrow’s
dinner,” she whispered to Carl.

On most nights, the family
would spend their evenings getting together for dinner with Sarah doing most of
the cooking.  To her surprise, cooking became a passion, and like a mad
scientist with pans instead of beakers, she enjoyed trying out new dishes with
Carl and Charlie as her eager guinea pigs.

Carl and Charlie then cleaned
up the dishes; with Sarah’s supervision, of course. Often, the family would
spend their evenings after dinner watching a movie or playing cards.
 Other nights, they would each go their own way to enjoy solitude.

Tonight, though, was their
traditional family baseball night. The Hartleys sat around their 52-inch flat
screen to watch the Boston Red Sox play against the Toronto Blue Jays. Over
Sarah’s mouthwatering Philly Cheese Steaks, they watched the Blue Jays fall
behind 7-0 in the second inning.

“Lester jammed his right hip,” reported Carl as Sarah came
back from the kitchen with her slices of strawberry cheesecake.

“Tazawa is a good player too,” commented Sarah upon learning
he’d replaced the injured player.

“Mmmm… this is so yummy, Mom,” Charlie said in between
mouthfuls, her eyes not leaving the screen.

The Red Sox jumped all over Chien-Ming Wang, tagging him for
seven runs. As expected, the Red Sox won 7-4. The Hartleys cheered together,
elated that their favorite team had won after having lost twice to the Detroit
Tigers.

After saying good night to her parents, Charlie lay in bed,
looking at the shadows the full moon made on her floor. Although she wouldn’t
leave for college for quite some time, the worries already gnawed at her
mind. 

I’ll surely miss Mom and Dad in the fall. Living in a dorm
won’t be like home at all.  Charlie winced at the thought of arguing with
her college roommate on whose turn it was to clean the bathroom or vacuum the
carpet.
I wonder what it’s like to be at Harvard. I imagine the pressure to
excel will be intense. Will there be enough time to forge friendships and
socialize? Will it be even half the fun high school afforded me?
Charlie
tossed and turned, feeling pangs of nostalgia about leaving home, her friends,
Foran High School, and Milford.

Writing was always close to Charlie’s heart. She dabbled in
poetry as a child and contributed feature articles in the school paper. She had
a good share of subscribers on her online blog and had won a number of online
essay and vignette writing contests. Becoming a journalist was something else,
though.
Will I be a Barbara Walters, a Kate Couric or a Gloria Steinem? It
sure would be cool to be an investigative journalist like Eileen Welsome and
win the Pulitzer Prize for reporting on human radiation experiments done on
people during the Cold War.
She imagined her life as it could be, smiling.

Her thoughts strayed to high school. She recalled the
Halloween when she and Liz transformed the Hartley basement into a horror room
for the Gang of Five. The memory brought a smile to her face and a twinkle in
her eyes. They’d absolutely had no idea what they were in for. The two girls
created a scary haunted house, causing Missy to freak out when her blindfold
was taken off and she was confronted by a cold metal casket that was the
Hartley’s old freezer with a half-bodied mannequin corpse sporting a stitched
cheek and garbed in a ketchup-stained dress.

Charlie’s thoughts drifted further to the bats and roaches
scurrying all around the room, chasing the girls. Joan panicked and went into
hysterics when a bat kept landing on her nape. Ginger’s paranoia escalated
after her encounter with the roach that repeatedly ran up and down her legs.
Joan, Missy, and Ginger berated them for planting live creatures, but what
Charlie didn’t admit was that she was the prankster behind the silicon toys
that petrified Joan and Ginger, secretly using her powers for fun at their
expense.

These wonderful memories stayed with Charlie as she slipped
into sleep. Her dreams were of screams, laughter, and bats.

She awoke the next day still filled with the adrenaline rush
from the previous night’s victory of her beloved Red Sox. Charlie decided to
take on a physical activity in the morning and took her bicycle for a ride.

She pedaled her way to Audubon Center to follow the
twelve-mile trail, pedaling the flat and hilly terrain with vigor. The center
has over five hundred acres of woodlands and meadows, and exploring nature in
abundance was a treat for her. Today, the scenery was breathtaking, bikers were
few, and the weather was perfect. Charlie biked for over an hour, exhilarated
and invigorated.

She stopped in a secluded and shaded spot where the stream
ran.  Kicking off her shoes and dipping her feet in the water, Charlie
took pleasure at the fluid’s movement between her toes.  A nearby old red
oak with a large trunk served as a convenient back rest. “This is the life,”
Charlie told herself. She made a mental note to remind her there was an abundance
of free things in life much more rewarding than any expensive gadget young
people her age seemed to prefer.  She took out her book and chewed on an
apple as she temporarily lost herself in John Grisham’s
Pelican Brief
.

Screams jerked Charlie out of the lawyer’s world. She looked
up to find two young boys, no older than ten, pedaling their bikes. They were
speeding downhill along the bike path when one of them lost his brakes and
careened toward Charlie.

“Look out!” shouted the other boy who got off his bike and
chased his friend’s bike in a foolish attempt to stop him. The boy on wheels,
who appeared more confused than frightened, screamed at the top of his lungs as
he headed straight at Charlie and the red oak. Charlie acted more on impulse
than anything else when she raised her hand. As she did, the bike ground to a
halt. The boy’s body flew over the handle bars and into the shallow stream.

“Are you alright?” Charlie asked as she waded into the
water. The boy let Charlie pull him up as his friend caught up with them. She
checked the visibly shaken kid for any injury, and after finding only a couple
of scratches, let him walk to his friend.

“How did you stop like you did, Marvin?” his friend
inquired.

“I don’t know,” Marvin admitted. “I lost my brakes and I
just sped towards the lady and the tree. I shut my eyes, expecting to hit the
tree. Then I landed in the water.”

The friend looked at Charlie, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I guess Marvin is one lucky guy, Jason. Now go home and get your bike fixed.
And remember not to race downhill ever again.”

They thanked Charlie and walked away with their bikes, still
mystified how Marvin escaped a near-death experience, which is exactly how they
would retell the story later.

During the bike ride home, Charlie relished the feeling of
being able to help someone. She thought, “I don’t know how I did that. I
believe when I raised my hands, it was unconsciously. Can’t wait to tell Mom
and Dad their daughter just saved a kid.”

Charlie quietly tiptoed up the stairs, noting her parents’
bedroom door was ajar and assuming they were napping. But as she passed, she
overheard them talking. She paused and eavesdropped.

Carl spoke softly. “I met this psychologist from Hartford.
He recently moved to the state from California and seems to know a lot about
telekinesis. He’s taken a keen interest in the study of advanced capabilities
of the mind such as telekinesis and telepathy, or as he called it, psi
phenomenon
,
for quite some time. Do you think
he could help Charlie?”

Sarah was concerned about Charlie’s powers being exposed.
“We don’t want to place Charlie in a position that might embarrass her. I am
worried about her but her safety is more important.”

Charlie was upset about being discussed like she was sick or
weird. She couldn’t contain herself or wait for a more suitable time. She
walked right in without knocking.

“Dad, Mom, I’m sorry I overheard you two talking about me. I
thought we agreed to let this go. You know I feel like some kind of freak the
way you discuss me. Really, is what I have so horrible? Maybe you should
instead think about why I’m like this in the first place. Does it even run in
the family or am I the only one cursed with powers that don’t even work every
time?”

Carl and Sarah were caught off-guard when Charlie’s
outburst.

“Charlie, please don’t be offended. We want the best for you
and you know that. We’re just concerned that things may get out of hand,
especially when you go to college and we won’t be near to support or protect
you,” Sarah explained.

Carl interjected, “You’re mom is right, Princess. I met this
psychologist at poker yesterday. Bob introduced him to the group and the
conversation shifted from card reading to telekinesis. It sparked an
interesting and lengthy conversation among us; I thought I would share the
information with you and your mom.”

Charlie was clearly upset. She knew her parents meant well
but it did not stop her from being irritated. “What if he says I have an
illness that triggers this power and he wants to study me? Will you let me be
his guinea pig?”

Sarah looks astounded, “Of course not, Princess. That was
never the intention.”

Carl added, “I just thought maybe a more educated person
would help us understand better what’s going on with you.”

“Well, I’m sorry. This is just too much for me. I wish I
were born normal like you. But I don’t want to talk to any stranger and answer
his questions because he sees me as a live specimen to test his theories on.
Excuse me.” Charlie turned around quickly and went to her room. She locked the
door and isolated herself for the rest of the afternoon.

After watching her daughter walk out angrily, Sarah said,
“I’m sorry, Hun,” she said, “I shouldn’t have pushed you to find answers
elsewhere.”

Carl reached for Sarah’s hand and held it. “It’s not your
fault. Charlie is a sensible kid. She always had been. Just give her time.”

 “I hope so. Well, I’ll make us some Baby Back Ribs for
dinner and keep my fingers crossed.” She announced, hoping Charlie would cheer
up after they gathered around the dining table. Sarah sighed as she walked to
the kitchen.

As was usually the case, the dinner came out as delicious
and after the fulfilling meal
.
Charlie did
bounce back, as she always did. Theirs was such a close-knit family that minor
conflicts were easily resolved over Sarah’s culinary skills.

“Thanks for making my favorite dish, Mom.” A smiling Charlie
hugged Sarah. Carl flashed a thumbs-up sign to his wife. All was well in the
Hartley household.

The next morning, Charlie jumped into the shower as soon as
she got up. “Nothing wakes me up the way cold water does,” she thought. She
lathered her washcloth and started rubbing her left forearm. When she shifted
to her right arm, she let out a shriek, “What in heaven’s name is this?”

On her right forearm was a three-inch gash. The laceration
looked like it had already begun to heal and therefore wasn’t something she’d
sustained while in the shower. Examining it more closely, it seemed like the
incision was caused by a shard of glass, deep enough to leave a scar but not
enough to require stitching.

After her shower, Charlie dressed and went straight to
Sarah, who was mixing a fresh batch of no-bake oat bars.  “Hey Mom, take a
look at my forearm,” Charlie raised her right arm for Sarah to see.  “I’m
sure I didn’t have this yesterday or last night when I bathed… Thoughts?”

Sarah took a closer look. “Hmmm…that’s strange. Could you
have walked in your sleep last night and hurt yourself?”

Charlie raised her brow and pouted. “Mom, what do you mean?”

But Sarah was already on the phone leaving a message for Dr.
Wipperman to see if he could drop by the house on his way home.

That afternoon, the doorbell rang and Sarah got up to
welcome their long time family doctor. “Thanks for taking the time, Ray.”

The balding gentleman brushed her off. “No problem, Sarah.
Where’s good old Charlie?”

“Hi Doc!” Charlie’s face lit up when she saw the affable
doctor. She’d known him since she could remember, and, save for her special
power, he knew every major illness she’d had, including a badly bruised thigh
from a bike fall when she was seven.