My Best Friend Is Invisible (2 page)

“The house near the woods
is
haunted,” Roxanne insisted. “And that’s
what we should study for our report. I’ll talk to the ghost and take notes. Your
job will be to videotape us.”

Roxanne never backs down.

Sometimes that’s what I like about her.

And sometimes that’s what I hate about her. Like now.

“Don’t waste your time, Roxanne. I’m practically an expert on ghosts. That
house is
not
haunted.” I tried to give Roxanne some good advice.

A bad mistake.

“You just don’t want to videotape us. You want to be the one who talks to the
ghost and takes the notes,” she accused.

I let out a sigh.

“But it was my idea—so I get to pick first,” Roxanne said. “Ms. Starkling
will go crazy when we find a real ghost for our project. We’ll probably win an
award or something.”

“We won’t find any ghosts in this town.” I shook my head. “This place is too
boring. Nothing exciting ever happens here….”

I stopped talking.

A low, frightening moan filled the room.

Roxanne jumped off the bed.

She moved close to me.

We slowly turned toward the sound. Coming from the hall.

“Wh-what’s that?” Roxanne’s voice shook, pointing to the doorway.

We both stared in horror—at an eerie light just outside my room. An eerie
white light.

We took a step back.

The light grew brighter.

Closer.

It filled the doorway now.

I held my breath.

“Sammy—
what is it?”
Roxanne’s voice quivered.

“I—I don’t know.”

I watched the strange white light begin to roll and shimmer and stretch—as
it reached for us.

We backed up against the wall.

The light grew stronger, whiter.

Blinding now.

Another moan floated toward us—and I gasped.

“A… ghost!” I cried. “No. It’s a…
Dad
?”

Dad stepped into the room. Carrying some sort of bright light.

“That’s about as real a ghost as you’ll ever find!” Dad laughed.

My heart stopped pounding.

Brutus let out a loud wail and darted from the room.

“Whoa—I didn’t think anything could scare that cat!” Dad laughed again.

Mom burst into the room. “You said you were bringing that laser light home to
repair it. Not to terrify these kids,” she scolded Dad.

“Give me a break. It was just a joke.” Dad turned to us. “You thought it was funny—right, Sammy? Roxanne?”

“Yeah… very funny, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. “One of your best jokes.
A real riot.”

“I knew it was a laser light.” Roxanne moved back toward the bed. She sat
down, trying to look cool. “When I saw how scared Sammy was, I played along.
Super trick, Mr. Jacobs. We really fooled Sammy!”

We
really fooled Sammy!
We?

I wanted to strangle Roxanne.

Sometimes I hate her. HATE her.

Simon wandered into the room, carrying Brutus. “Your stupid cat ran over my
body-tracing. He ruined it. Now I have to start all over again.”

Simon let Brutus drop to the floor. He glanced at the light Dad held in his
hand. Then he looked at me.

“Sammy didn’t fall for that dumb light trick—did he?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go watch your toes grow!” I shouted at my brother.

“No. This is a different dumb light trick,” Dad chuckled.

Mom cleared her throat—a warning to Dad.

“Actually, Simon, this light is called a Molecule Detector Light.” Dad tried
to turn serious. “Here—have a look at it.” He handed the light to Simon.

It looked like a regular flashlight—but it definitely wasn’t.

A regular flashlight didn’t shine with a shimmery, white, blinding light.

“What does it do?” Simon studied the shiny silver casing that housed the
laser.

“It’s kind of like an X-ray,” Dad explained. “I can shine it in the air and
see all kinds of insects and things that you normally can’t see.”

“I know what we can use it for.” Simon turned the light toward me. “We can
use it to find Sammy’s BRAIN!”

Everyone laughed. Even Mom.

“Hey! Good one!” Roxanne patted Simon on the back. “That’s the first time I
ever heard you make a joke.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Simon said flatly.

That made everyone laugh even harder.

“Out!” I yelled. “I want you all to leave!”

Mom, Dad, and Simon left the room. Still laughing.

“What about our math homework?” Roxanne demanded. “I thought we were going to
do it together.”

“I don’t feel like doing it now,” I grumbled.

“Okay. Okay.” Roxanne backed out of the room. “You don’t have to do it. But I
do. Ms. Starkling said it’s my turn at the chalkboard tomorrow. I want to make
sure I get the equations right.”

Roxanne left to do her homework.

I opened my math book to do mine.

I stared down at the numbers.

But I couldn’t concentrate.

I’ll get up early, I decided. And do my homework in the morning.

I got up from my desk to change for bed.

Brutus jumped into my desk chair—his favorite place to sleep.

I crossed the room—and tripped on something in the middle of the floor.

“Hey—what was that?” I spun around.

I glanced at the floor.

“Huh?”

Nothing there.

I stared at the floor.

I shook my head.

I tripped over—
nothing?

It’s a good thing Roxanne didn’t see this one, I thought. I could hear her
making fun of me now.
“Practicing—to make sure we lose the race next
week, Sammy?”

I got into bed.

I propped up my pillows and picked up the ghost-story book I was reading. I
stared down at the page, but it was all just a blur.

I closed the book and drifted off to sleep. But I tossed and turned all night
long. Half asleep, half awake, I fluffed up my pillow. I pulled the covers up
around me. I drifted off again—then woke up to a noise.

Flapping.

The flapping of my curtains in the night breeze.

I sat up. I rubbed my eyes.

I stared at the window.

The
open
window!

I bolted out of bed and slammed it shut.

Who opened this window? WHO?

Is it possible for a window to slide
up
?

NO.

It must be Simon. Simon must be playing a joke on me, I decided.

But it couldn’t be Simon. Simon doesn’t play jokes. He’s always serious.

I climbed back in bed—and stared at the window. Watching. Waiting. Waiting
to see it open.

But my eyelids grew heavy and I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up late. Brutus always wakes me up. But he didn’t
today.

I bolted up in bed to check the window. Closed.

I glanced at my desk chair. Brutus was gone.

I dressed quickly. I caught my reflection in the mirror as I headed out of my
room. I looked wrecked.

“Sammy, you look awful,” Mom said. “Did you get to bed late last night?”

I slumped down at the kitchen table. Dad sat across from me, reading the
newspaper.

“No, not too late,” I told Mom.

Dad peered over the newspaper. “You’re reading too many of those ghost books,
Sammy. If you read about real science, you’d sleep better.”

Dad went back to his newspaper.

Mom poured some cereal into my breakfast bowl. I ate one spoonful—and Simon
called me.

“Sammy—come up here,” he shouted from his bedroom. “I need your help.”

I ignored him.

I ate another spoonful.

“SAM-MY!” he screamed.

“Sammy, go see what your brother wants,” Mom ordered.

“SAM-MY! SAM-MY!”

“WHAT?” I cried, charging into his room. “What’s your problem?”

“That!”
he said, pointing to the bed. “That is my problem.”

Brutus lay curled up in Simon’s bed.

“He slept in here last night,” Simon said. “And now I can’t get him out. He
won’t move.”

“Brutus slept in here?”

I couldn’t believe it.

Brutus always sleeps in my room. Always.

“Yes, he slept in here,” Sammy said. “And I want him out!”

“What’s the big deal? Just leave him there.” I turned to the door.

“Wait!” Simon yelled. “I can’t leave him there. I can’t!”

“Why not?” I asked, confused.

“Because I have to make my bed,” Simon answered.

I stared hard at my brother. “What planet are you from?”

“Sammy,” Simon whined. “I have to make my bed. Mom says.”

“Just make the bed over him. Mom won’t notice the lump.”

I returned to the kitchen a few seconds later. I sat down at the table.

Mom peered over my shoulder. “Sammy, how did you finish your cereal so fast?”

“Huh?”

I stared down into my breakfast bowl.

Totally empty!

“Someone—someone ate my cereal!” I stammered.

“You’re right!” Mom gasped. “It must have been a ghost!”

Mom and Dad laughed.

I stared at the empty bowl—and the spoon.

“Look!” I shouted. “Someone
did
eat my cereal. I have proof. The spoon—it’s on the left side of the bowl. I always put my spoon on the right side of
the bowl—because I’m right-handed. See?”

I pointed to the spoon.

To the proof.

“Stop kidding around, Sammy. You’re going to be late for school.” Mom turned
to Dad. “We’d better get going too.”

“Did
you
do it?” I asked Dad as he reached for his briefcase. “Did you
eat my cereal? Did you move the spoon? Was it a joke?”

“You’re reading too many ghost stories,” Dad said. “Way too many.” Then he and Mom hurried off for work.

For a few minutes, I sat at the kitchen table. Just sat there, staring into
my empty cereal bowl.

Someone ate my cereal.

I am
not
going crazy, I told myself.

Someone ate my cereal.

But who?

“Sammy. Sammy.”

Huh?

“Sammy, would you like to tell us what is so fascinating outside?” Ms.
Starkling crossed her arms in front of her, waiting for my answer.

A few kids giggled.

I had been gazing out the classroom window. Thinking—about
my
window. My
open
bedroom window. And my disappearing cereal.

“Uh—no. I mean, nothing,” I said. “I mean—I wasn’t looking at anything.”

Some more giggles.

“Sammy, come up to the chalkboard, please, and show the class how to finish
this equation.”

“But it’s Roxanne’s turn,” I blurted out. “I mean, isn’t Roxanne supposed to
show the class today?”

“Sammy, please.” Ms. Starkling tapped the chalkboard with a piece of chalk.
“Now.”

I glanced at Roxanne. She just shrugged her shoulders.

I was in big trouble.

I didn’t do my math homework last night. And I didn’t do it this morning,
either—because Brutus didn’t wake me up on time.

My temples pounded as I made my way to the front of the classroom. I walked
slowly. Staring at the equation. Trying to figure out how to solve it before I
got up there.

I had no idea.

Ms. Starkling handed me the piece of chalk.

Silence fell over the classroom.

I stared hard at the numbers on the board.

My palms began to sweat.

“Read the equation out loud,” Ms. Starkling suggested. She said it nicely.
But I could tell she was losing her patience.

I read the equation out loud.

It didn’t help.

I lifted the chalk to the board, even though I still didn’t know what to do.

I stared at the numbers some more.

I heard the sounds of kids shifting impatiently in their seats.

I placed the chalk against the board—and gasped.

I felt something squeeze my hand. Something cold and wet.

My knees started to shake.

I felt hot breath right up against my face.

I tried to step back—but I couldn’t move.

Something squeezed my fingers tighter and tighter. Squeezed until it hurt.

The breathing against my face grew more rapid—sharp gasps that stung my
cheeks.

I wanted to pull free. But then my hand started to move across the
chalkboard.

My hand was moving—and it started to write!

Someone was writing numbers for me! Someone was holding my hand! Moving it!
Solving the equation!

Someone I couldn’t see!

I yanked my hand back. I jerked free of the clammy, invisible grip.

Then I dropped the chalk—and started screaming.

And ran from the room.

I ran into the hall. I leaned against the wall outside the classroom. My
hands were shaking. My knees trembled.

I could still feel the cold, ghostly fingers wrapped around my hand.

I heard Roxanne inside—volunteering to finish the equation.

“Sammy.” Ms. Starkling met me out in the hall. “What happened? Are you sick?
Would you like to see the school nurse?”

“I’m—I’m not sick,” I stammered.

I didn’t want to explain what happened.

I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even want to try.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the nurse? You don’t look well.” Ms. Starkling felt my forehead.

“No. I’m okay,” I lied. “I—I just felt a little dizzy—because I didn’t
eat breakfast this morning.”

Ms. Starkling believed me. She sent me to the lunchroom to get something to
eat.

As I made my way down the hall, I could still feel the clammy hand gripping
my fingers.

Still feel the hot breath on my face.

Still feel the cold force as it pushed my hand along the board. Guiding it.
Writing the numbers for me.

I shivered.

Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I
have
been reading too many ghost
stories.

I walked home alone after school. I wanted to be by myself. To think.