Short Story: "Missing" (Part One)

Yay! Snow day for me today and tomorrow as well! I ended up not feeling very well this morning and, as a result, slept today away (from noon--8 pm to be precise). So, I will need to spend most of tomorrow catching up on the grading I should have done today. I am feeling a bit better now, therefore, I have decided that I will spend tonight doing things I wanted to do so I will be forced to spend tomorrow doing things I really don't want to do, like grade sophomore essays.

This is a short story I am working on for younger kids called "Missing". I envision it as a beginner chapter book. This is what I have so far and I am working on the second part right now. Please feel free to critique away; constructive criticism is good for the soul (and for improving writing!). I will post the second part as soon as I get more grading completed and have more time to write for fun.


Missing

Chapter One

"Joey! Wake up, it's Sunday!"

Those were some of his favorite words to hear, along with "How many cookies do you want?" and "You don't have to take a bath tonight."

Sunday was Joey's special day of the week. Sundays meant helping his mom conquer the house. Most kids in the third grade hated doing chores, but Joey loved it because he got to spend special time with his mom, who worked a lot during the week. On Sundays, they worked hard, but they worked together, starting with making a big breakfast of cartoon-shaped pancakes stuffed with chocolate chips or sprinkles and topped with whipped cream, of course. Joey's mom always coated hers with a layer of whip cream and the running joke was where it would end up each Sunday; sometimes whip cream got in her hair, sometimes on her face, and one time, she even managed to get it all over Joey's hair when she laughed at his joke with her mouth full.

Joey could smell the pancakes already as he tumbled out of bed and down the stairs, all ready to be his mother's protector against the dirty dishes and stinky laundry. He was proud when everything was clean and put away. The house seemed to sparkle and his mom couldn't stop smiling, plus they always ended up with their sides hurting from laughing so hard all day long. Monday always seemed a bit blue when compared with the fun of Sunday.

"Captain Joey," his mom called from the kitchen, using his favorite nickname. It made him feel strong and powerful, ready to launch a thousand armed planes (or scrubbing bubbles) on an unsuspecting enemy. As he came into the kitchen, he saw his mom armed with a giant bottle of laundry detergent and a stack of dryer sheets.

"After breakfast, Captain, we must attack the laundry first. It seems to be taking over the entire house!" she said, pointing to the giant pile of socks, underwear, pants, towels, and shirts flooding out of the laundry room into the kitchen.

"Roger, Sergeant M.O.M.," Joey replied and began wolfing down a Mickey Mouse pancake smothered in chocolate chips and whipped cream, laughing as his mom tried to spear a piece of a Pikachu pancake, but only managed to get whipped cream all over her sleeves.

Chapter Two

As soon as breakfast was cleaned up, Joey and his mom began the assault against the laundry. Load after load of dirty, stinky clothes were thrown without mercy into the steaming water of the washer and were beaten around until they came clean. Straight into the dryer the loads went, only to be tossed around like mini rag dolls. When the laundry was under control, they began to clean the rest of the house, only stopping for a quick snack to refuel their energy and for Joey to watch his favorite cartoon.

"Captain Joey," his mom called as his show was finishing, "Report for duty! The army of clothes has surrendered, and we must fold them and put them away for good now."

With a grin, Joey raced into the living room and started folding like a madman. He had a feeling that if the kids at school could see him now, they'd make fun of him for sure, but he didn't care. He loved the smell of fresh, warm laundry, especially the towels and socks. There was just something about matching the pairs and folding them up into balls together that made him feel relaxed and happy. Maybe it was more the conversations he got to have with his mom that made folding laundry so great, but whatever it was, this was his favorite part of the day.

"Uh, oh, Captain, we've got a problem!" his mom shrieked, interrupting Joey's thoughts, as she held up the old two socks left: one long green one with a hole in the toe and a little white one covered with ducks.

"I'm not holding them hostage, if that's what you think, Sergeant M.O.M.," Joey replied, pulling out his pockets to show her.

"Well, then where could they have gone, Captain? Do you think they are on a spy mission? We better find them, and quick!" she replied.

Chapter Three

They searched the house high and low.

They looked in the dryer. Nothing. Joey got down on his hands and knees and looked under the dryer. Nothing--but a dime, which he pocketed, and some lint. He walked the same path Sergeant M.O.M. had walked when she had brought in the army of clean clothes for "questioning" (and folding), keeping his eyes glued to the ground, but he found nothing but a shoelace, a leaf, and an old piece of his gum that had stuck to the bottom of a chair.

He looked under the chairs and couches. Only a stale potato chip and a pen. He even checked to see if Lucky, their dog, had grabbed the missing socks. But no luck, not even with Lucky, who was just chewing an old shoe.

"It's hopeless, Captain Joey," Sergeant M.O.M. cried as she flopped into a chair. "We'll never find those socks, just like we couldn't find my keys or sweater or your dad's favorite hat. They're all just missing!"

"I won't give up, Sergeant!" Joey said stubbornly, and set out to finish his mission. He didn't want today to end on a sad note; he and his mom had such a good time, he didn't want two missing socks to ruin it. He looked high (on top of the ceiling fans and the kitchen cupboards); he looked low (under beds, dressers, and rugs), but there was nothing. Not a trace. Not even a clue.

"Wow," Joey thought out loud, "those socks are very clever, but they will not beat me. Olly, olly, ox in free," he called, hoping they might think he was playing a game of hide-and-seek and come out of their hiding spots, but nothing happened. He strained his ears to hear and his eyes to see the slightest sound or movement, but there was absolutely nothing.

Sighing, he lay down on his bed and curled up tight into a little ball. That's how he got his name; his mom thought he looked like a baby kangaroo when he was first born, as he stayed curled in a ball and looked like he could fit into a pouch.

"I always get blamed for missing things. Where does it go? What are those socks doing right now?" Joey wondered out loud. "They always seemed like trouble makers," he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Four

"Pssst. Hey, Dewey, the coast is clear! The kid's finally worn out from looking for us! Now comes the best part!"

Suddenly, a long, green sock slid out from behind Joey's bookshelf, followed closely by Dewey, the ducky sock. A tinkling sound filled the air as the socks were joined by a pair of golden keys.

"Thanks for walking me home," the keys jingled. "I've got to let my mom know I'm back from cheer leading camp, so I better get going. You boys have fun fooling the people for me," she jangled as she jumped off the shelf and out to the hook in the kitchen where she lived with her parents.

The jingling noises woke Joey, but he only opened his eyes a tiny sliver, so they'd think he was still asleep. He couldn't believe what he was hearing! There were mom's keys that had been missing for a few days and the two socks that had escaped the earlier laundry attack. He wanted to open his eyes and trap the socks, forcing them to talk, but he decided it would be best to pretend to be asleep and listen carefully to see what else he could find out about these missing things.

"So, what should we do now, Charlie?" Dewey asked. "Is this the part where we get to play tricks on the big people?"

"Yup. You have a lot to learn, little one," Charlie replied. "Now we can go hide back in the dryer, where the little boy first looked. That's always funny to see their faces! They think they are going crazy! Or, we could find a really bizarre spot, like in the bathtub or the refrigerator. That would be hilarious! A sock in the fridge!" Dewey laughed so hard at the last suggestion that he snorted a bit.

"Sshhhh..." Charlie cried, "don't wake the kid, you silly boy! We can't have any fun if the kid is on to us!"

"I-I'm sorry, Charlie," Dewey sniveled. "I want to have fun. I'll be quiet, I swear!"

"Yeah, well. Just make sure you don't wake him up. Otherwise, we can't go to the hangout."

"The hangout?" Dewey's eyes got big as he squeaked out his answer. "I've heard mom and dad talking about the hangout, but I've never been allowed to go yet. Besides when I'm worn and laundry time, I've never even been outside of my drawer before. My brother Huey might be missing me. Plus, I'm still feeling a bit dizzy from the dryer ride."

"Calm down, kid," Charlie replied, cool as ever. "You'll be fine, you'll see. Everyone goes to the hangout sometime. It's where we go when the people think we're missing. Come on, I'll show you," he said, grabbing Dewey's elastic top as he drug him away from the hiding spot of the bookshelf and towards the bed where Joey was sleeping.