Let's Get Invisible! Page 6

  “Huh?” I reacted with surprise. I had been so busy listening to my grandparents’ silly soup arguments, I had forgotten all about Lefty.

  “His soup is getting cold,” Poppy said.

  “You’ll have to heat it up for him,” Grammy said, tsk-tsking again.

  “So where is he?” Dad asked.

  I shrugged. “He was right behind me,” I said. I turned toward the dining room doorway and shouted, “Lefty! Lef-teeeee!”

  “Don’t shout at the table,” Mom scolded. “Get up and go find him.”

  “Is there any more soup?” Poppy asked. “I didn’t really get enough.”

  I put my napkin down and started to get up. But before I was out of my chair, I saw Lefty’s soup bowl rise up into the air.

  Oh, no! I thought.

  I knew instantly what was happening.

  My idiot brother had made himself invisible, and now he thought he was being funny, trying to scare the daylights out of everyone at the table.

  The soup bowl floated up over Lefty’s place.

  I stood up and lunged for it and pulled it down as fast as I could.

  “Get out!” I whispered loudly to Lefty.

  “What did you say?” my mom asked, gaping at me.

  “I said I’m getting out and going to find Lefty,” I told her, thinking quickly.

  “Get out — now!” I whispered to Lefty.

  “Stop talking about finding him. Just go do it,” my mom said impatiently.

  I stood up just as my dumb invisible brother raised his water glass. The glass floated up over the table.

  I gasped and grabbed for it.

  But I grabbed too hard. I jerked the glass, and water spilled all over the table.

  “Hey!” Mom screamed.

  I pulled the glass down to its place.

  Then I looked up. Dad was glaring at me, his eyes burning angrily into mine.

  He knows, I thought, a heavy feeling of dread sweeping over me.

  He saw what just happened, and he knows.

  Lefty has spoiled it for everyone.

  Dad glared angrily across the table at me.

  I waited for him to say, “Max, why is your brother invisible?” But instead, he yelled, “Stop fooling around, Max. We don’t appreciate your comedy act. Just get up and find your brother.”

  I was so relieved. Dad hadn’t realized what was really happening, after all. He thought I was just goofing.

  “Is there seconds on the soup?” I heard Poppy ask again as I gratefully pushed away from the table and hurried out of the dining room.

  “You’ve had enough,” Grammy scolded.

  “No, I haven’t!”

  I made my way quickly through the living room, taking long strides, climbed to the second floor, and stopped in the hallway at the door to the attic stairs. “Lefty?” I whispered. “I hope you followed me.”

  “I’m here,” Lefty whispered back. I couldn’t see him, of course, but he was right beside me.

  “What’s the big idea?” I demanded angrily. I wasn’t angry. I was furious. “Are you trying to win the stupid championship?”

  Lefty didn’t care that I was upset. He started to giggle.

  “Shut up!” I whispered. “Just shut up! You really are a dork!”

  I clicked on the attic light and clomped angrily up the stairs. I could hear his sneakers clomping up behind mine.

  He was still giggling at the top of the stairs. “I win!” he declared. I felt a hand slap me hard on the back.

  “Stop it, jerk!” I screamed, storming into the little room that housed the mirror. “Don’t you realize you nearly spoiled it for everybody?”

  “But I win!” he repeated gleefully.

  The lamp over the mirror was shining brightly, the reflection glaring sun-yellow in the mirror.

  I really couldn’t believe Lefty. He was usually a pretty selfish kid. But not this selfish!

  “Don’t you realize the trouble you could have gotten us into?” I cried.

  “I win! I win!” he chanted.

  “Why? How long have you been invisible?” I asked. I stepped up to the mirror and pulled the string. The light went out. The glare remained in my eyes.

  “Ever since you guys went downstairs,” Lefty, still invisible, bragged.

  “That’s almost ten minutes!” I exclaimed.

  “I’m the champ!” Lefty proclaimed.

  I stared into the mirror, waiting for him to reappear.

  “The stupidity champ,” I repeated. “This was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

  He didn’t say anything. Finally, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why is it taking so long for me to come back?”

  Before I could answer, I heard Dad calling from downstairs: “Max? Are you two up there?”

  “Yeah. We’ll be right down,” I shouted.

  “What are you two doing up there?” Dad demanded. I heard him start to climb the stairs.

  I ran to the top of the stairs to head him off. “Sorry, Dad,” I said. “We’re coming.”

  Dad stared up at me in the stairwell. “What on earth is so interesting up there?”

  “Just a lot of old stuff,” I muttered. “Nothing, really.”

  Lefty appeared behind me, looking like his old self. Dad disappeared back to the dining room. Lefty and I started down the stairs.

  “Wow, that was awesome!” Lefty exclaimed.

  “Didn’t you start to feel weird after a while?” I asked him, whispering even though we were alone.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I felt fine. It was really awesome! You should have seen the look on your face when I made the soup bowl float up in the air!” He started giggling again, that high-pitched giggle of his that I hate.

  “Listen, Lefty,” I warned, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, blocking his way to the hallway. “Getting invisible is fun, but it could be dangerous. You —”

  “It’s awesome!” he repeated. “And I’m the new champ.”

  “Listen to me,” I said heatedly, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Just listen. You’ve got to promise me that you won’t go up there and get invisible by yourself again. I mean it. You’ve got to wait till someone else is around. Promise?” I squeezed his shoulders hard.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, trying to squirm away. “I promise.”

  I looked down. He had his fingers crossed on both hands.

  * * *

  Erin called me later that night. It was about eleven. I was in my pajamas, reading a book in bed, thinking about going downstairs and begging my parents to let me stay up and watch Saturday Night Live.

  Erin sounded really excited. She didn’t even say hello. Just started talking a mile a minute in that squeaky mouse voice, so fast I had trouble understanding her.

  “What about the science fair?” I asked, holding the phone away from my ear, hoping that would help me understand her better.

  “The winning project,” Erin said breathlessly. “The prize is a silver trophy and a gift certificate to Pizza Planet. Remember?”

  “Yeah. So?” I still wasn’t following her. I think I was sleepier than I’d thought. It had been a nervous, tiring day, after all.

  “Well, what if you brought the mirror to school?” Erin asked excitedly. “You know. I would make you go invisible. Then I’d bring you back, and I’d get invisible. That could be our project.”

  “But, Erin —” I started to protest.

  “We’d win!” she interrupted. “We’d have to win! I mean, what else could beat it? We’d win first prize. And we’d be famous!”

  “Whoa!” I cried. “Famous?”

  “Of course. Famous!” she exclaimed. “Our picture would be in People magazine and everything!”

  “Erin, I’m not so sure about this,” I said softly, thinking hard.

  “Huh? Not so sure about what?”

  “Not so sure I want to be famous,” I replied. “I mean, I really don’t know if I want the whole world to know about the mirror.”


  “Why not?” she demanded impatiently. “Everyone wants to be famous. And rich.”

  “But they’ll take away the mirror,” I explained. “It’s an amazing thing, Erin. I mean, is it magic? Is it electronic? Is it someone’s invention? Whatever it is, it’s unbelievable! And they’re not going to let a kid keep it.”

  “But it’s yours!” she insisted.

  “They’ll take it away to study it. Scientists will want it. Government guys will want it. Army guys. They’ll probably want to use it to make the army invisible or something.”

  “Scary,” Erin mumbled thoughtfully.

  “Yeah. Scary,” I said. “So I don’t know. I’ve got to think about this. A lot. In the meantime, it’s got to be a secret.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said doubtfully. “But think about the science fair, Max. We could win the prize. We really could.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I told her.

  I haven’t thought about anything else! I realized.

  “April wants to try it,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “I convinced her. I told her it didn’t hurt or anything. So she wants to try it on Wednesday. We are going to do it on Wednesday, aren’t we, Max?”

  “I guess,” I replied reluctantly. “Since everyone wants to.”

  “Great!” she exclaimed. “I think I’ll beat your record.”

  “The new record is ten minutes,” I informed her. I explained about Lefty and his dinnertime adventure.

  “Your brother is really a nut,” Erin remarked.

  I agreed with her, then said good night.

  I couldn’t get to sleep that night. I tried sleeping on one side, then the other. I tried counting sheep. Everything.

  I knew I was sleepy. But my heart was racing. I just couldn’t get comfortable. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the mirror in the little room above me.

  It was nearly three in the morning when I crept barefoot out of my room, wide awake, and headed up to the attic. As before, I leaned heavily on the banister as I climbed, trying to keep the wooden stairs from their usual symphony of creaks and groans.

  In my hurry to get to the little room, I stubbed my toe on the corner of a wooden crate.

  “Ow!” I screamed as quietly as possible. I wanted to hop up and down, but I forced myself to stand still, and waited for the pain to fade.

  As soon as I could walk again, I made my way into the little room. I pulled a carton in front of the mirror and sat down on it.

  My toe still throbbed, but I tried to ignore it. I stared at my dark reflection in the mirror, studying my hair first, of course. It was totally messed up, but I really didn’t care.

  Then I peered beyond my reflection, behind it. I guess I was trying to look deep into the glass. I don’t really know what I was doing or why I was up there.

  I was so tired and pumped up at the same time, so curious and confused, sleepy and nervous.

  I ran a hand along the glass, surprised again at how cool it felt in the hot, nearly airless little room. I pushed my open hand against the glass, then pulled it away. It left no handprint.

  I moved my hand to the wooden frame, once again rubbing the smooth wood. I stood up and slowly walked around to the back of the mirror. It was too dark back here to really examine it carefully. But there wasn’t anything to examine. The back of the frame was smooth, plain, and uninteresting.

  I came back around to the front and gazed up at the light. It looked like an ordinary lamp. Nothing at all special about it. The bulb was an odd shape, long and very thin. But it looked like an ordinary light bulb.

  Sitting back down on the carton, I rested my head in my hands and stared drowsily into the mirror. I yawned silently.

  I knew I should go back downstairs and go to sleep. Mom and Dad were going to wake us up early the next morning to drive to Springfield.

  But something was holding me there.

  My curiosity, I guess.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, still as a statue, watching my own unmoving reflection. It may have been just a minute or two. Or it might have been half an hour.

  But after a while, as I stared into the mirror, the reflection seemed to lose its sharpness. Now I found myself staring at vague shapes, blurred colors, deepening shadows.

  And then I heard the soft whisper.

  “Maaaaaaaax.”

  Like the wind through the trees. The hushed shaking of leaves.

  Not a voice at all. Not even a whisper.

  Just the hint of a whisper.

  “Maaaaaaaaax.”

  At first, I thought it was inside my own head.

  So faint. So soft. But so near.

  I held my breath, listened hard.

  Silence now.

  So it was inside my head, I told myself. I was imagining it.

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

  “Maaaaax.”

  Again, the whisper.

  Louder this time. Sad, somehow. Almost a plea. A call for help. From far, far away.

  “Maaaaaaaax.”

  I raised my hands to my ears. Was I trying to shut it out? To see if I could make it go away?

  Inside the mirror, the dark reflected shapes shifted slowly. I stared back at myself, my expression tense, frightened. I realized I was chilled from head to foot. My whole body shivered from the cold.

  “Maaaaax.”

  The whisper, I realized, was coming from the mirror.

  From my own reflection? From somewhere behind my reflection?

  I leapt to my feet, turned away, and ran. My bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor. I plunged down the stairs, flew across the hall, dived into my bed.

  I shut my eyes tight and prayed the frightening whisper wouldn’t follow me.

  I pulled the covers up to my chin. I felt so cold. My entire body was trembling.

  I was breathing hard, gripping the top of the blanket with both hands, waiting, listening.

  Would the whispers follow me into my room? Were they real, or only in my head?

  Who was calling to me, whispering my name in that sad, desperate voice?

  Suddenly, I heard panting louder than mine. I felt hot breath on my face. Sour-smelling and moist.

  It reached for me. It grabbed my face.

  I opened my eyes in terror.

  “Whitey!” I cried.

  The dumb dog was standing on his hind paws, leaning over the blanket, furiously licking my face.

  “Whitey, good dog!” I cried, laughing. His scratchy tongue tickled. I was never so glad to see him.

  I hugged him and pulled him up into the bed. He whimpered excitedly. His tail was wagging like crazy.

  “Whitey, what’s got you so worked up?” I asked, hugging him. “Do you hear voices, too?”

  He uttered a low bark, as if answering the question. Then he hopped off the bed and shook himself. He turned three times in a tight circle, making a place for himself on the carpet, and lay down, yawning loudly.

  “You’re definitely weird tonight,” I said. He curled himself into a tight ball and chewed softly on his tail.

  Accompanied by the dog’s gentle snores, I eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

  When I awoke, the morning sky outside my bedroom window was still gray. The window was open just a crack, and the curtains were swaying in a strong breeze.

  I sat up quickly, instantly alert. I have to stop going up to the attic, I thought.

  I have to forget about the stupid mirror.

  I stood up and stretched. I’ve got to stop. And I’ve got to get everyone else to stop.

  I thought of the whispered cry from the night before. The dry, sad voice, whispering my name.

  “Max!”

  The voice from outside my room startled me out of my chilling thoughts.

  “Max — time to wake up! We’re going to Springfield, remember?” It was my mom out in the hallway. “Hurry. Breakfast is on the table.”

  “I’m already up!” I shoute
d. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  I heard her footsteps going down the stairs. Then I heard Whitey downstairs barking at the door to be let out.

  I stretched again.

  “Whoa!” I cried out as my closet door swung open.

  A red Gap T-shirt rose up off the top shelf and began to float across the room.

  I heard giggling. Familiar giggling.

  The T-shirt danced in front of me.

  “Lefty, you’re ridiculous!” I yelled angrily. I swiped at the T-shirt, but it danced out of my reach. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”

  “I had my fingers crossed,” he said, giggling.

  “I don’t care!” I cried. I lunged forward and grabbed the shirt. “You’ve got to stop. I mean it.”

  “I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, pretending his feelings were hurt. A pair of jeans floated up from the closet shelf and began to parade back and forth in front of me.

  “Lefty, I’m going to murder you!” I shouted. Then I lowered my voice, remembering that Mom and Dad might hear. “Put that down — now. Go upstairs and turn off the mirror light. Hurry!”

  I shook my fist at where the jeans were marching. I was so angry.

  Why did he have to be so dumb? Didn’t he realize that this wasn’t just a game?

  Suddenly, the jeans collapsed in a heap on the carpet.

  “Lefty, toss them to me,” I instructed him. “Then get upstairs and get yourself visible again.”

  Silence.

  The jeans didn’t move.

  “Lefty — don’t fool around,” I snapped, feeling a stab of dread in the pit of my stomach. “Toss me the jeans and get out of here.”

  No reply.

  The jeans remained crumpled on the carpet.

  “Stop this stupid game!” I screamed. “You’re not funny! So just stop it. Really. You’re scaring me!”

  I knew that’s what he wanted to hear. Once I admitted that he was scaring me, I was sure he’d giggle and go do as I said.

  But no. The room was still silent. The curtains fluttered toward me, then pulled back with a gentle rustling sound. The jeans lay crumpled on the carpet.

  “Lefty? Hey, Lefty?” I called, my voice trembling.

  No reply.

  “Lefty? Are you here?”

  No.

  Lefty was gone.