A Clatter of Jars by Lisa Graff Page B

right here.” She pointed to the spot on the floor where, mere moments ago, Jo had finished sweeping. “And I dropped the jar. And the frog swallowed the bracelet, and then he was . . .
Talented
. The glass shattered all over my green high—”
    Even as she spoke the words, Lily seemed confused by them. As though she’d begun watching a movie halfway through and couldn’t quite piece together the plot. She frowned at her faded brown sneakers.
    â€œ
You
broke the jar?” Jo asked, hope rising in her chest.
    â€œYes,” Lily said. “I was standing right there.” But she seemed less certain with every word. “Wasn’t I?”
    Jo placed an arm on the girl’s shoulder. “Honey,” she said, with all the sweetness she could muster, “I think you’re having some sort of episode. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?”
    â€œAn episode?” Lily asked.
    â€œIf it persists, have Nurse Bonnie take your temperature.” And she pressed Lily out of the office.
    Well, how about that?
Jo thought, patting Grandma Esther’s harmonica in her sweater pocket. After all this time, after all her searching, Fate had sent her a Recollector.
    Jo quickly got to work.
    Dear Jenny,
she wrote.
Of all the letters I’ve written you, this is the most important.
    A Recollector could take memories from one person—the way Chuck had had her memory taken, right before Jo’s eyes—and, if he or she wanted to, give those memories to somebody else—the way Lily had been given a memory that most certainly wasn’t hers.
    No matter what may have happened between us, I need to you to come now. It’s crucial that I see you.
    It wasn’t so much the giving of memories that Jo was interested in.
    Next Sunday,
she wrote, in her neat blocky letters.
After my campers’ Talent show.
That ought to give her plenty of time.
    I’m begging you, Jenny. Please come. I want nothing more than to be a family again.
    Your sister,
Jo
    Jo folded the letter into thirds and slid it into an envelope for Del’s next mail run.
    Jenny would come. She had to. And when she did, she’d forget why she’d never come before. All Jo had to do was ensure that the Recollector, whoever the person was, took a good, long dip in the lake.
    Passing beneath the moose head keeping guard above the lodge’s double doors, Jo stepped into the sunlight and pulled Grandma Esther’s harmonica to her lips.
    Turquoise, plum, salmon, teal. Marigold, coral, slate, snow. With every camper Jo played for, she saw colors. An abundance of Singular Talents.
    â€œRenny, that’s her again,” Jo heard a camper whine. “She’ll make us go in the lake.”
    â€œYou don’t have to go swimming, Miles,” came the reply.
    â€œ
No water!
”
    Miles shouted the words just as Jo turned to face him, her harmonica at her lips.
    Pearl, alabaster, porcelain, frost. She drew in a breath of surprise, making the colors even more vivid. She never would have guessed if she hadn’t seen it for herself.
    Miles Patrick Francis Fennelbridge, the disappointment of his family, was a Recollector.
    â€œ
No water!
” Miles flicked his fingers.
Flick-flick-flick-flick-flick!
    Jo stopped playing. Pulled her harmonica down from her mouth. Blinked at the bright afternoon sky.
    There was an itch, just below her ear.
    She glanced at the harmonica in her hands, certain she’d been playing it only moments earlier, but befuddled as to why.
    â€œJo?”
    When she looked up, Jo saw Del, her head counselor.
    â€œTeagan asked me to give this to you,” Del said, holding out a thick white envelope. Jo took it and peeked inside. It was the money Caleb had given her earlier. She scratched below her ear. “Got anything for the mail run?”
    There was a hint of something lingering in her mind. A memory, perhaps, although Jo could only catch the flavor of a