My Best Friend Is Invisible (5 page)

“Quiet down, class,” Ms. Starkling warned. She collected all the homework,
then told us to open our math books.

Ms. Starkling wrote an equation on the board. “Sammy, are you feeling better
today?” she asked when she finished.

I nodded yes.

I mean—what else could I say?
No. Ms. Starkling, I’m not feeling better.
I met an invisible kid last night in my room—and now no one will ever
believe me. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.

“Good,” Ms. Starkling said. “Would you please come up and show the class how
to solve this?”

I couldn’t catch a break today.

I stood up.

“Not you, Sammy,” Ms. Starkling said. “I was talking to him.”

She pointed to the seat next to me.

The empty seat next to me.

I glanced up at Ms. Starkling, puzzled.

“Your invisible friend,” she said.

That sent the whole class into a new fit of laughter.

Ms. Starkling laughed. “Sorry, Sammy. I had to get in on the joke too.”

Sorry? I knew she wasn’t sorry. She was laughing too hard.

I was so embarrassed. Totally humiliated.

And that was just the beginning of the day. The afternoon was much worse.

At lunch period, I went to the library. I took a seat by myself.

I didn’t want to hear any more invisible boy jokes.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

I took my tuna sandwich out of my backpack. I placed it on my lap so Ms.
Pinsky, the librarian, wouldn’t see it. We’re not supposed to eat in the
library, and I didn’t want to get caught.

Everyone in school knows that when the librarian gets angry—watch out. I
remember when Claire made her angry. Ms. Pinsky made Claire write a hundred book
reports, three pages each! That was last year—but Claire is still writing the
reports. I think she’s only up to book number twenty.

I unwrapped the sandwich—and gasped.

The sandwich began to rise up.

“Brent—put it down!” I whispered. “What are you doing here?”

A bite disappeared from the sandwich.

“I was lonely in your room, all by myself,” Brent said. “And hungry.” Another
bite of my sandwich vanished.

I snatched the sandwich away from him. I glanced nervously around the room.
“You can’t stay here. You have to leave!”

“Please, let me stay,” Brent begged. “It’s no fun at home without you. I need
a friend.”

“Everyone thinks I’m nuts!” My voice started to rise. “Totally NUTS! All the
kids in school are laughing at me. Even my teacher is making fun of me! You can’t stay here,
Brent. You can’t—”

A shadow fell over the table.

I glanced up.

The librarian stood over me, frowning and shaking her head.

“Ssssammy!” she hissed. “Who are you talking to? And why are you talking in
the library?”

I gulped.

Her eyes narrowed into two angry slits. She clenched her lips tightly
together.

Then she glanced down at my lap and gasped. “Is that… FOOD?”

I’m doomed, I realized. I’ll be writing book reports for the rest of my life.
Thanks, Brent. Thanks a lot.

“Sammy! How could you?” the librarian exclaimed. “You’ve broken my two most
important rules!”

I grabbed onto my seat, waiting for her to really let me have it. But she
didn’t.

“This is so unlike you,” she said. Her voice grew kinder. “Would you like to
talk to the guidance counselor after school today? You know, talking to yourself
is a sign that you are troubled by something.”

I glanced around the library—at everyone gaping at me. I could feel my face
turning hot. I knew I was blushing.

“No, I’m fine,” I insisted.

“If something is bothering you—it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” The
librarian took a seat next to me.

Now everyone started to whisper.

I wanted to disappear.

“Nothing is troubling me. Really,” I insisted, shoving my sandwich back in my
backpack.

“Maybe you should have a chat with the guidance counselor anyway,” she
continued. “I’m sure you’ll find Ms. Turnbull very easy to talk to. I’ll tell
her you are going to stop by.”

The librarian was not going to give up.

“I can’t see Ms. Turnbull after school today. I’m in the relay race in the
Olympics,” I said. “I can’t miss the race. My whole team is depending on me!”

“Okay.” The librarian stood up to leave. “But will you promise me something?”

Sure, I thought. I’ll promise you anything—as long as you leave. NOW.

I nodded yes.

“I want you to come and see me if anything is bothering you. Will you do
that?” She patted me on the shoulder.

I nodded again—and she went back to her desk.

I slowly glanced around—to see if everyone was still staring at me.

They weren’t.

They were all busy talking. Talking to invisible friends. And laughing.

I shaded my eyes from the sun. It beamed down brightly on the track field.

The sky was a deep blue.

The air felt warm. Nice. Not too hot.

A perfect day for a race.

I peered into the bleachers. They spilled over with kids from all the schools
in town.

More kids arrived, trying to push their way into seats. But the bleachers
were packed. Kids shouted and shoved and laughed and joked. Everyone seemed
totally wired.

My team gathered at one end of the field. I jogged over to them.

“Hey! Sammy!” Roxanne greeted me and slapped me a high five. “Great day for a
race! I know we’re going to win—I can feel it!” And then she added, “Unless
you mess up.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Roxanne. I can outrun
you
any day,”
I shot back.

I ran a practice lap around the field. I ran fast and strong. I was pumped
up. I felt totally confident.

Three of us were going to run the relay race.

Jed would start. Jed is a great runner. He’s tall and skinny and can take
really long strides.

I would run next. Then Roxanne would finish up.

The three of us were the fastest runners in the whole seventh grade.

We couldn’t lose.

The race was about to begin. I jumped up and down to keep my muscles warm.

I glanced up into the stands—and saw some kids pointing at me. Some of them
laughed.

“Oh, noooo,” I moaned. I know what they’re talking about. My invisible
friend.

After this race, you are going to keep a promise you made this morning, I
told myself. You are going to pay Roxanne back—no matter what it takes.

All my muscles tensed up.

“Relax. Relax,” I repeated over and over, bending forward and rubbing my leg
muscles.

“Ready, Sammy?” Jed high-fived me. “We’re counting on you!”

“Ready!” I said.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the kids in the bleachers—the ones who
laughed every time they looked at me.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about Ms. Starkling—and how she made fun of
me.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the librarian—who thought I was totally
nuts.

My muscles tightened even more.

I concentrated hard. Concentrated on shoving all those thoughts out of my
mind.

I did some warm-up exercises. My muscles began to loosen up. I started to
feel better.

The referee took his place on the field.

Jed, Roxanne, and I lined up in race order.

The six teams from the other schools were ready too. We all waited for the
referee’s signal. As soon as he blew his whistle, the first runner would run
around the track once—then pass the baton to the next runner.

I trained my eyes on the referee. My heart pounded. I took a deep breath.
Then another.

The whistle blew.

The race was on!

Cheers rang out as Jed took off! He ran faster than I’d ever seen him run
before. Amazing!

Roxanne and I cheered him on. “Go, Jed! Gooooo!”

Jed reached the halfway mark before any of the other runners.

He raced to the finish. Practically flying now. Holding out the baton.
Holding it out so I could grab it—and run.

I could hear his sneakers pounding the ground. Dust flew up behind him. His
face was red. His eyes were wide.

He was only a few feet away from me.

I dropped into my racing position.

I stuck out my hand. Jed stretched out his arm. I grabbed the baton from him.
The cheers in the bleachers rose to a roar. Here I go! I thought.
RUN!

My shoes pounded the track. I swung my arms hard, gripping the baton in my
right hand.

I took long strides, leaning forward, building a rhythm. Faster. Faster than
I’d ever run.

The cheers thundered in my ears. “Go, Sammy! Go! Go! Go!”

That made me run even harder.

It felt so awesome!

Without slowing down, I glanced over my shoulder.

I was way ahead of all the other runners.

I reached the halfway mark—and sprinted forward. We were going to win this
race!
Yes!

The three-quarter mark was coming up—and I wasn’t even out of breath. The
other runners were struggling, still way behind.

I leaned forward. Pounded the hard track.

And gasped when I felt a hand grab my shoulder.

Another hand grabbed my waist.

“Hey—!” I cried.

And then I realized what was happening.

“Brent—get away! What are you doing?” I wailed.

“I’m going to help you win!” he cried breathlessly. “I’m going to show you
I’m your friend! Watch!”

Before I knew what was happening—

Before I could stop him—

My feet lifted up off the ground—and I started to fly!

“No! Stop! Put me down!
Put me down!”
I shrieked.

He ignored my cries. He raised me off the ground.

I flew about a foot. And felt Brent stumble.

“Let go! Let go!” I screamed.

I waved my arms wildly, trying to regain my balance. I kicked my legs, trying
to break free of Brent’s grasp.

I let out an angry cry as I fell to the track.

I landed hard on my knees and elbows. Then my head banged down on the sharp
cinders.

The baton flew from my hand. I gazed up—and watched in horror as it rolled
across the field.

“Ohhhhh.”

“Sorry, Sammy,” Brent cried from close by. “I only wanted to help. But I
tripped.”

I looked up—in time to see the other runners racing by me.

We were going to lose. Big time.

I raised my eyes to Roxanne and Jed. They glared back at me. They shook their
fists angrily at me.

I sat up. My elbows were scraped raw. My knees were bleeding.

“Brent! How could you do this to me?” I wailed.

“I was only trying to help,” he repeated.

Another runner raced by me. His sneakers kicked up a chunk of cinders and
mud.
SPLAT
—into my eyes.

I felt a hand trying to wipe the mud away.

I swung out my arm and shoved Brent hard.

“Ow!” he cried. “Hey—why do you have to be a sore loser? Winning isn’t
everything, you know.”

With my head down, I shuffled off the field. As I walked by the bleachers,
some kids from my school booed me.

I got some cheers too—mostly from kids on the other teams.

I could feel Jed’s and Roxanne’s burning glares as I made my way over to
them.

Jed didn’t say a word. I think he was too angry to speak.

Roxanne didn’t have that problem.

“How
could
you—you stupid clumsy cretin!” she shrieked. “We could
have won! You blew it. You really blew it this time!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I cried. “It was the invisible kid!”

Ugh. Wrong thing to say.

“I wish
you
were invisible!” Roxanne cried in disgust.

I wish I were invisible too, I thought. This has to be the most awful day of
my life.

Brent is ruining my life.

Maybe having an invisible friend would be fun for another kid. But it was
definitely not fun for me.

I have to do something about Brent, I decided.

I have to do something right away.

“Come on, Sammy. Be a good sport. Measure me.” Simon shoved a tape measure in
my face.

“I told you, Simon. You haven’t grown since yesterday! Now—leave me alone.”

I had just returned home from the worst day of my life. I definitely was not
in the mood to measure Simon.

“My project is a loser.” Simon lowered his eyes. “A total loser.”

It was hard not to feel sorry for Simon. He was so serious about his science
project.

I tried to cheer him up. “Simon, we just don’t grow that fast,” I said.
“Maybe you should study something else. How about measuring a puppy? Puppies
grow faster than we do. Much faster.”

“But we don’t have a puppy,” Simon replied.

“How about Brutus? You can measure Brutus,” I said, guiding Simon out of my
bedroom.

“Brutus isn’t going to grow any more,” Simon whined. “You know that. He’s too
old.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told him. “I’ll try to come up with something you
can study. But I need to think—alone.”

I gave Simon a soft shove out of my room. Then I closed the door.

I flopped down on my bed. And pulled the covers over my head.

I wanted to disappear.

I couldn’t face anyone—not Roxanne, not my teacher, not the librarian. Not
the whole seventh grade.

I heard a noise.

I whipped off the blanket—and saw my window sliding up. “Phew. Why is it so
hot in here?” a familiar voice demanded.

“Oh, noooo,” I groaned. “You’re back?”

“Lighten up, Sammy. Why don’t we go out and play some ball or something? Take
your mind off things. I’m a really good pitcher.”

“Brent—you have to leave.”

“Good idea. Let’s leave this stuffy house. We’ll go out. Get a pizza. I’m
hungry,” he said. “You must be hungry too.”