by Elise Allen
“I’ve recalled every hockey memory I can think of,” I told Anger and Disgust. The three of us were practically swimming in hockey-oriented memory spheres. I figured one of them could work in place of the core memory. I just had to load them into the core memory holder and see which ones took. I waited until Riley was about to play, then I started shoving the spheres inside the holder.
It worked! Oh, sure, Hockey Island was struggling and sputtering, but it was starting up and Riley was playing!
“We did it!” I cheered. “It’s working—”
That’s when the core memory holder blew out the memory spheres, slamming one into Anger’s stomach.
I still thought we could make it work. I tried jamming another memory into the holder, but that one shot out like a cannon and slammed me into a wall. I was hurting, but I could see on the screen that Riley was doing even worse. Nothing worked for her on the ice, and the coach was really coming down on her. Anger didn’t like it one bit. He stormed to the controls.
No good would come of Anger taking the console right then.
“Wait,” I said. “No, no, no! Use your words.”
He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. I threw myself on him to keep him away, but he’s a lot stronger than I am, and he has that fire brewing on the top of his head, and that rage of his packs a lot of power, you know? Plus, I bruise very easily. I have to be careful.
What I’m saying is, I didn’t win the battle for the controls. Anger steered, Riley raged at the coach, at Mom, at the entire sport of hockey…and the next thing I knew, Hockey Island was sinking like the Titanic.
By that night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to quit, and I said as much to Anger and Disgust. “Sure, it’s the coward’s way out,” I admitted. “But this coward is gonna survive.”
I stomped on the memory flush button and a vacuum tube lowered. I wasn’t sure where the tube would take me, but if it had whisked Joy and Sadness away from Headquarters, it could whisk me away from my troubles, too.
Unfortunately, the tube sucked up a memory sphere at the same time it sucked me. And it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us. I ended up mushed against the side of the tube, the memory squeezing into my back. Then the tube spit me out onto the floor where I landed in a crumpled heap.
Ow.
“Aha!” Anger cried. He had been rummaging through a bunch of idea bulbs, and now he held one up triumphantly.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing…just the best idea ever,” Anger declared.
“What?” Disgust scoffed.
“All the good core memories were made in Minnesota,” Anger said. “Ergo, we go back to Minnesota and make more. Ta-da!”
“Wait, wait. You’re saying we run away?” I asked in disbelief.
That was exactly what Anger was talking about. I couldn’t believe he was serious!
“Hey,” said Anger, “our life was perfect until Mom and Dad decided to move to San Fran Stinktown.”
“But it’s just so…drastic! Shouldn’t we sleep on it or something?” I asked.
I was on Dream Duty that night, and I honestly figured something pleasant from Dream Productions would help calm my nerves, and I’d be able to handle everything better in the morning. Anger and Disgust agreed we wouldn’t decide anything until then, so later that night, after Riley shut her eyes and went to sleep, I settled in with a nice hot cup of tea—not too hot, wouldn’t want to scald my tongue—for some relaxing viewing.
The dream that night wasn’t one of the studio’s best. They were reenacting Riley’s meltdown in front of the class, but the woman playing the teacher was totally unbelievable. While the dream was supposed to be scary, and believe me, I know scary, this was nothing. It was full of old clichés I could see coming a mile away. The actress playing Riley was speaking in front of the class…and then her teeth fell out.
Of course they did. “Who writes this stuff?” I asked. “Let me guess, we have no pants on.”
Sure enough, a second later, someone cried, “Hey, look! She came to school with no pants on!”
Amateurs. They should get me down there to write and direct. If they could only harness the intensity of my fears, they’d have an endless supply of scares.
I leaned back, eager to make fun of the rest of the dream, when something unexpected happened. A puppy came flouncing out onto the set. I was intrigued. The writers usually stayed pretty literal. This was a nice departure.
“Woo!” cried the dog—also a nice touch, making it a talking dog—“Let’s party! Let’s dance. Woo!”
The air filled with balloons and confetti. A puppy party in the middle of what was supposed to be a nightmare? I liked it! I bounced around in my seat to the music, then took a big happy sip of my tea…
…which I spit all over the console when the cute puppy split in half!
“Aaaaaah!” I screamed.
I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. The confetti and balloons were still everywhere, but now the front half of the bisected puppy was racing around and chasing the bottom half. I felt the tea churn in my stomach.
“It’s just a dream,” I told myself. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream…”
A second later, a huge animal that was part cat and part elephant bounced in front of the screen. He leaned in close, like he was trying to steal my soul. “Hi, Riley, it’s me!”
“Bing Bong?” I said in disbelief. That was Riley’s imaginary friend from when she was little. Okay, now the director was just getting crazy, which she proved by panning over a second later to Rainbow Unicorn eating a donut at a buffet table.
“Boo!” I yelled at the screen. “Pick a plot line.”
Well, it didn’t get any better. The dream turned into an inane dance party full of glitter, sheep, cupcakes, and that ridiculous Rainbow Unicorn. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…they did.
I was dozing off when a giant clown with a bloodthirsty red mouth and piercing evil eyes crashed through the set with a giant hammer.
“WHO’S THE BIRTHDAY GIRL?!” it roared.
I screamed so hard I blew out my voice…then I passed out. I don’t even remember coming to. The next thing I knew, I was tucked under the console, rocking back and forth and hugging myself. That’s where Anger and Disgust found me. I guess my screaming woke them up, and they were both so annoyed that they couldn’t even get a good night’s sleep anymore that they didn’t want to wait until morning to decide about running away. They made the choice immediately. I didn’t say no.
Anger plugged the idea bulb into the console, and that was that. Riley sat up in bed and pulled out her laptop to check bus schedules. Of course, she needed money to buy a ticket, but Anger reminded us that Mom had left her purse downstairs in the kitchen. I would have been far too afraid to take money, but Anger was driving now. He led Riley downstairs, had her pluck out Mom’s credit card, and then snuck her back upstairs.
That made Honesty Island collapse. I was too overwhelmed to even flinch.
The following morning, as we loaded up Riley’s backpack for school, I had second thoughts. “Hold on, guys,” I said. “Are we really doing this?”
Anger pushed me away from the console. He thought running away was the only answer, and since I didn’t have a better one, I let him steer. Riley left home without a single word to Mom and Dad and began walking toward the bus station. As she walked, I just couldn’t stop thinking of all the terrible things that happen to kids who run away. We didn’t even know where we were going! Getting lost was almost inevitable. Once we got off at the bus stop in Minnesota, where would we go? What would we do? Riley needed to get some maps of Minnesota—stat!
As she approached a public library, I took the console for a while. She walked right into the library and began looking for the maps. She didn’t find a map, but she did find a Minnesota tour guidebook that had a ton of small maps and big pullout one. It was perfect! She headed for the checkout desk, but along the way I
pushed a few buttons on the console. One more stop: the library catalog computers. Riley typed in “runaways” in the subject field and, moments later, the screen had a long list of book titles. I had no idea there were so many books about runaway kids! We went to the stacks to look at some of them. They were all so scary! Even the covers were terrifying…all these young boys and girls with terror in their eyes, backpacks slung over their shoulders, walking along shadowy roads…did we really want to be like them?
The worst part was the librarian. She kept coming over and asking if Riley needed help. And when she saw what kind of books we were looking at…I just knew she had our plan figured out, and she’d call Mom and Dad.
Incredibly, that didn’t happen. Riley didn’t waste another second and headed straight for the desk to check out the guidebook. (I was going to make sure she mailed it back to the library before the due date—we didn’t want to get thrown in jail for overdue fees.)
As Riley scurried out of the library and continued on her way to the bus station, Anger resumed control of the console. It was a good thing he had the controls, because we had to go through a dimly lit part of town that had shadows in every corner. Shadows that could hold kidnappers…or muggers…or hyenas. I had images in my head of Riley ending up dead on the side of the road or having a really bad picture appear on the sides of milk cartons all over the country.
Mom called while we were walking. I knew Riley should answer, but I didn’t want her to. I was too afraid to hear what Mom might say. Was she worried? Did she know Riley was running away? Oh, no! What if she could track us through Riley’s phone? Maybe that would only work if we answered. Better not to answer. Better to just keep moving.
The station was filled with strangers. Not just strangers—strange strangers. I made sure we stayed in the most wide-open spaces we could find, and we made eye contact with no one.
Riley’s phone rang.
“Oh…” I moaned. “It’s Mom again. What do we do?”
Family Island made a loud groan as it started to topple.
“We’re losing the last island!” Disgust cried.
Suddenly, Anger decided that running away was the worst idea ever.
Disgust reached for the idea bulb we’d plugged into the console. “Let’s get that idea out of her head,” she said.
She and Anger both tried, then Anger said, “It’s stuck!”
“Whaddya mean it’s stuck?” I asked.
Then all the controls started shutting down. A black shadow spread over the console, like an eclipse of tar.
“What is this?” I screeched.
Anger picked up a chair and manfully slammed it down on the console…but the chair bounced off and nearly hit me in the face, which wasn’t quite the effect I wanted. I tried to attack the thing with a crowbar, but that didn’t work, either. At least it wasn’t just me.
“How do we stop it?” I asked.
“Make her feel scared!” Disgust suggested. “That’ll make her change her mind!”
“Yes!” I cried. “Brilliant!”
I ran to the control panel and pushed every button. I tried to recall the scariest things she’d ever experienced: the food at camp, the cockroach she once found swimming in the toilet, that oversized Easter Bunny at the amusement park…but nothing worked. The console didn’t even respond.
“Guys,” I said, “I can’t make Riley feel anything.”
Everyone was silent for a moment, and for the first time, I think Anger and Disgust were as frightened as I always was.
“That’s it,” Anger said. “It’s over. There’s nothing more to do.”
He was right. The world was ending, and it was punctuated with a horrible banging sound against the window. It was over. Headquarters was falling apart. The walls around us were collapsing! We would all be buried alive!
“It’s Joy!” Disgust shouted.
What? Joy? Joy was back?
That was amazing! Life wasn’t over after all!
I ran to the window and saw Joy and Sadness clinging to the outside. Disgust, Anger, and I tried to open it, but the thing was made of safety glass, which I’d always loved. It wouldn’t budge—not even when Anger threw a chair at it and tried to break it. Then the wheels started turning in Disgust’s head. She insulted Anger until he fumed so violently that flames burst from the top of his head. Then she used him like a blowtorch to cut a hole in the window. Joy and Sadness were finally able to climb inside Headquarters.
“Thank goodness you’re back!” I cried.
Joy didn’t even answer. She just looked at the screen and saw that Riley was on the bus, and the bus driver was pulling away.
For the first time in ages, I wasn’t worried. I knew Joy would handle everything and make Riley happy again.
But she didn’t.
“Sadness,” she said, “it’s up to you.”
What? Did Joy go crazy as she was wandering out there in the Mind World? What was she talking about? Sadness couldn’t make things better. She’s the one who started this whole mess by turning Riley’s memories from happy to sad. Letting Sadness take control was dangerous. Yet Joy didn’t seem worried. If anything, Sadness looked nervous and worried, but she took the console.
I concentrated on my breathing as I watched the screen. It only took a few moments before Riley suddenly stood up from her seat, raced to the front of the bus, and told the driver to stop. With Sadness still at the controls, Riley ran home and told her parents exactly how she felt about the move, and how sad she was to leave behind her old friends and the home she loved.
The truth? I kind of teared up listening to her.
I was afraid Mom and Dad wouldn’t understand, or would be mad at her for not being the happy kid they loved…but they only hugged Riley. They said they were sad, too. At that moment, a new core memory was formed, and it created a new Family Island. Riley was healing already.
That was a while back. Now we have an amazing new view from Headquarters. We can see all the new Islands of Personality. They’re pretty spectacular. All except Boy Band Island—that one is just plain annoying. But the really great thing is that Joy, Sadness, Anger, Disgust, and I work together now at a cool new console. Sure, it can get a little crowded sometimes, and I always risk getting singed by Anger or sobbed on by Sadness, but it’s worth it. We’re a team, and there’s nothing scary about that—well, other than the possibility of a meteor striking when we’re all standing together.
Okay, listen up and listen good, because this is important. I don’t know what any of these other Emotions have said, but I’m going to tell you the real story of the disaster that was Riley’s Big Move, and I’m going to tell it exactly the way it happened so everyone knows the truth.
It started, of course, with me. I showed up in Riley’s life pretty early. You know why? Because life isn’t fair. But when people try to make it not fair to Riley, I fight back. Even when Riley was a toddler, there was unfairness to be dealt with. Take this for example: Dad used to tell Riley that if she didn’t eat her dinner, she wasn’t going to have any dessert.
Excuse me? No dessert? That move didn’t fly with me. I was not above having Riley throw a tantrum to get what she wanted. Trust me on this: sometimes a tantrum is what it takes.
I should have had her throw a tantrum when we heard about moving from Minnesota to San Francisco. But no, I believed Joy when she said Mom and Dad knew what they were doing and it would all be fine. WRONG!
The car ride to California was cramped and long; the food on the road made Riley’s stomach hurt; the music Dad played was boring and for old people; and to top it all off, when we finally got to San Francisco, the house was disgusting!
“We’re supposed to live here?” I roared to Joy.
She said the house might be a disappointment, but Riley’s room would be wonderful.
WRONG AGAIN!
“Get out the rubber ball,” I said when I saw the tiny slope-roofed cell. “We’re in solitary confinement.”
And
you know what happened from there? It got worse. The moving van with all our stuff got lost. Our brilliant leader, Joy—please note my sarcasm—thought pizza would make us feel better, which it would have if there were such a thing as pizza in that godforsaken town! The pizza place Riley and Mom went to gave us some garbage with broccoli on it and called it “pizza.” The flames were starting to flare up on my head.
“Congratulations, San Francisco,” I roared. “You’ve ruined pizza! First the Hawaiians and now you!”
Unreal. Oh, sure, Joy showed Riley and the rest of us some memories that made us feel better for a second, but that blew up in her face when Sadness touched the memory spheres and turned them blue. Yeah, that’s right—Joy tried to cheer up Riley with a memory that was suddenly a sad memory. How was that gonna work? And it wasn’t like Sadness’s blue tinge on the memory spheres was temporary. Oh, no. The blue was on it for good.
But, hey, turning happy memories sad was apparently only one of Sadness’s new skills. Know what the other one was? Destroying Islands of Personality!
Okay, not destroying them—not yet, anyway—but while Joy was trying her whole shiny-scrubby thing on the memory Sadness had tainted, Sadness decided to open up the core memory holder. She thought the memories were crooked, she said. She wanted to straighten them out, she said. Well, she straightened one out all right. She straightened it right out of the holder! It was the core memory that powered Goofball Island, and when it rolled onto the floor, the island went dark!
Guess how much good a dark island does Riley?
DING, DING, DING! That’s right, folks—NONE!
That night, I said what everyone else was thinking but was afraid to say. “I can’t believe Mom and Dad moved us here. They must suffer for this!”
Joy tried to do her little “think of the good things” song and dance, but I was having none of it.
“No, Joy,” I told her. “There’s absolutely no reason for Riley to be happy right now. Let us handle this.”
I wasn’t sure yet how we were going to handle it, although a bulldozer or sledgehammer seemed like a good place to start.
