Invisible

by Jeanne Bannon

  I pull my attention away from Jon when Mrs. Wright says she’s giving us some class time to begin our essays. I yank my journal from my knapsack and start to write, only I’m not starting my essay, I’m writing my short story. The short story I plan to enter for the Bridgewood High creative writing scholarship award. The winner receives a partial university scholarship. My heart quickens at just the thought of it. There aren’t many teenagers jazzed about writing like I am, but for me the contest is a Godsend. It’s given me something to look forward to and helps keep my mind off my troubles.

  “Hi.”

  I peer up from my journal to find Jon staring at me. His dark blue eyes seem friendly enough, but I look away dumbfounded, unsure of his intentions.

  “Do you have a pen I could borrow?” He holds up a disgusting looking Bic that’s been chewed and mangled. “Mine’s a good for nothing piece of shit.” He flings it over his shoulder and smiles.

  A warm flush rises from my collar to my neck and spreads into my cheeks. “Uhh,” I say and fumble through my pencil case. My fingers feel fat and rubbery. Finally, they close on a pen. I give it to him and hope he doesn’t notice the tremble in my hand.

  “Thanks,” he says, taking it. He starts to turn around, but hesitates and turns back to face me. He holds my gaze. I want to look away, but I can tell he has something to say. His lips part and he says quickly, “Sorry… about yesterday.”

  He turns back to his work before I can reply and my heart does a little jump for joy.

  * * * *

  I meet Charlie for lunch at our usual table. She’s already there and has started in on a pile of gravy-smothered French fries. I take the top off my plastic Tupperware container filled with the remnants of last night’s stir-fry. Mom is the reigning queen of stir-fry. I’m so sick of it, I usually buy my lunch when I have the money. Not today, though. This week’s allowance was forfeited because I went over on my cellphone minutes. I eye Charlie’s lunch enviously.

  “My mother’s making me go shopping for my grad dress with her,” I say, shovelling a forkful of rubbery chicken and soggy noodles into my mouth.

  “No way! How’re you going to get out of it?”

  “There’s no escaping this time,” I say, covering my mouth as I chew.

  “I guess we’re in the same boat. My mom’s making me go to the grad party too.”

  My eyes widen and I heave a small sigh of relief. Charlie and I had a pact to skip the grad dance if possible. We weren’t foolish enough to believe we’d be able to get away with skipping out on the graduation ceremony, but we thought the dance would be do-able since we’d already managed to ditch Prom.

  “Oh my God, well at least we’ll have each other,” I say.

  “Don’t you want a date?”

  A pang of desire so strong strikes me that it takes me by surprise. Yes, I want a date and I want that date to be Jon, but this is reality and the reality of my life is that I will be dateless.

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind going alone. Like I said, we’ll have each other,” I say, knowing full well Charlie knows I’m lying.

  “I told my mother if I have to go then I’m taking a girl,” she says, “but I didn’t mean you. I meant like in a real date.”

  She’s not smiling and I have a sneaking suspicion she means it. Charlie’s sexual orientation is a slippery slope and a road we don’t travel down very often.

  “You said you had an idea this morning, so what is it?” I ask, changing the subject before things get awkward.

  A sly smile unfurls on Charlie’s lips and she nods over her shoulder to a table behind us. I know without looking who’s sitting there — Nino, Tyler and Julia.

  I put down my fork, my appetite vanishing with the sudden anxiety churning in my belly.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask with hesitation.

  “You’ve got to practice.”

  “Whaddaya mean, I have to practice?” I ask flatly. If becoming invisible means I have to endure tons of humiliation and embarrassment, I’m not sure I want to practice, especially if I have to throw myself at the mercy of Nino, Tyler and Julia.

  “You’ve got to learn to control your ability,” Charlie says.

  “That’s going to be hard. I mean, look what happened in my room yesterday when I tried to do it on purpose. I was only gone for a split second.”

  Charlie stabs her fries and crams them into her mouth, then takes a swig of soda to wash them down.

  “You’ve got to do it.” Her face shrivels in a look of pain and her hands have curled into fists. “God, I wish I could make myself invisible. Do you know what I’d do to those assholes? I’d make their lives so friggin’ miserable, they’d want to go hang themselves, just like they’ve done to us.”

  Her pain is reflected in her pale eyes. Charlie’s had it worse than me. I’m picked on ’cause of my size and although it hurts like hell, I’ve got my dreams to pull me through. One day I’ll be a famous best-selling novelist and maybe one day I won’t be so fat. But everyone sees Charlie like she’s some kind of freak, with her tattoo and purple-streaked hair, and the rumors of her being a lesbian and all. She’s scrappy and tough and has been in more fights than I can count. But it’s taken a toll on her, especially since she’s an only child and her mother’s always working. I’m pretty much all she’s got.

  “I will, I’ll practice,” I tell her and this brings a smile to her face.

  “There’s no time like the present.” She nods again at the shitheads behind us.

  “What exactly do you expect me to do?” Panic edges my voice.

  “It’s time for revenge.”

  “No,” I say in a furious whisper and shake my head, my stomach doing flip-flops. “I’m not ready.”

  Charlie reaches out and places her hands on both sides of my head and turns my head-shaking “no” to a furious nodding “yes.”

  I pull away and fix her with a glare.

  “Look,” she says, leaning closer, “don’t they deserve to be punished for what they did to you? Look at them. They think they’re better than us.”

  Reluctantly, my eyes find them. Other kids are now sitting at their table. To my horror, I spot Jon. Nino’s holding court again, talking to the huddled group. They laugh at something he says and look my way.

  “I think Nino’s telling everyone about what they did to me at the park.”

  “See,” Charlie says, “satisfaction reflecting in her eyes. “We’ve got a great opportunity here. School’s almost over, we’ve got to make them pay while we still can. Let’s go to the bathroom. We can practice there.”

  We choose the bathroom at the other end of the hallway, far from the cafeteria. Thankfully, it’s empty and Charlie and I lock ourselves in the handicap stall where we’ll have more room. The stench of disinfectant mingles with other more stomach churning scents. I have a strong urge to pull my T-shirt over my nose to keep from gagging and would if I were alone in the graffiti-riddled stall.

  “How do you feel right now?” Charlie asks.

  Like puking, I think but I know what she means and I say, “Upset.”

  “Good.”

  I huff and throw her a look.

  “I don’t mean that I want you to be upset… well, I do, but not because I’m mean. It’s just that you’ve got to bring up the bad feelings if you’re gonna vanish, like you did in your bedroom last night. That’s the key. But I think, when I reacted, I pulled you out of it. This time, I’ll try to be calm, okay?”

  “Then what?”

  Even though no one else is in the bathroom, Charlie puts her lips to my ear and whispers her plan, slowly drawing a smile from me. I imagine the scene in my mind and a sense of empowerment and satisfaction washes over me. I only hope I have the courage to do what she wants.

  “Oh and we’ve got to find out if you’re holding something, if it disappears too. Hold onto your cellphone and I’ll keep a close eye on it.”

  “Good idea.” I pull my phone from my pocket and hold i
t in front of my chest.

  My practice session begins in frustration.

  “This might take a while,” I explain after the first few attempts only result in a split second flicker.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll do this every day, whenever we can find time,” Charlie explains. “I was hoping we could do a little something to those bastards today but we’ll take it slow until you’re ready. We’ve still got some time.”

  When the bell rings, indicating lunch is over, I’ve managed to make myself invisible, cellphone and all, a total of ten times, but never for more than a couple of seconds.

  Chapter Eight

  All week I practiced my disappearing act. I’m managing longer and longer stretches and my confidence, though still budding, is growing. Of course Charlie has to be with me or I won’t know if I’ve actually disappeared or not. This little problem has me a bit concerned. Since my ability to vanish is becoming stronger and more frequent, I’m worried I might wink out without knowing it. Next month I start driving lessons and I can just imagine disappearing while behind the wheel. How freaked out would my instructor be? Actually, that thought makes me chuckle.

  It’s Saturday morning and Charlie has come over to help me practice. We don’t have much time before my dreaded shopping trip with Mom. But we manage to sneak in a short session in my room.

  “You’re doing great,” Charlie announces excitedly, eyeing the stopwatch in her hand. “You passed the two-minute mark this time.”

  “That’s not long enough to execute the plan,” I say and plop down on my bed. Practicing drains me. It’s hard on me emotionally, having to drag up and re-live those terrible moments in my life.

  “We’ve still got more time to practice. Just as long as you’re making progress and can go for longer and longer stretches, I think we’ll be fine.”

  “I’d like to hit the ten-minute mark. Then I’d be comfortable.”

  “You’ll get there. I’m sure of it. Do you wanna to try again?”

  I sigh. “God, no. I need a break.”

  There’s a knock at the door. Charlie quickly opens my desk drawer, throws the stopwatch in and closes it again, before my mother pops her head into the room.

  “Hi Charlie,” Mom says, and then turns her attention to me. “You ready to go, Lola?”

  I’m almost relieved. No more practising today, but the thought of shopping with my mom brings another more horrifying dread to the surface.

  “Can Charlie come?” I blurt out and realize my mistake as soon as Mom’s eyebrows smash together.

  She plasters on a fake smile. “Any other time, I’d love to have Charlie come along, but you know this is supposed to be a mother-daughter thing.” She looks at Charlie. “I’m sorry, Hun.”

  “Oh, no prob, Mrs. Savullo. I’ve got some things to take care of today, anyway.” Charlie throws me a quick look of “aww poor you, I hope you survive” and leaves.

  “I’ll text you,” I call after her.

  Mom throws me another look. “No cellphone. It’s just you and me this afternoon.”

  I sigh in resignation and smack my cell down on my desk.

  * * * *

  The mall is crowded and we’ve parked about a mile away; at least that’s how it feels, as we trudge through the parking lot, dodging water-filled pot holes from the early morning’s rain. Just as the sun is breaking through the clouds, and the day is showing promise, I’m stuck in a mall with a seriously addicted shopaholic.

  Mom drags me from store to store and makes me try on at least a hundred frilly, sparkly and always uncomfortably tight dresses. She ooohs and ahhhs and finally settles on a hot pink, off-the-shoulder number with lavender sequins.

  “Lola, look at you!” she squeals and claps her hands.

  The bored-looking salesgirl, who is no older than I am, bolsters her enthusiasm. “Yes, I think this is the one,” she says with forced fervor.

  “No. I don’t like it,” I say, but Mom and the salesgirl are discussing me as if I’m not there.

  “I’ve got to get her spiky heels and some bling,” says Mom.

  “Oh, then you’ve got to go to Jazzbees for the jewelry and Stance for the shoes. They’ve got the best selection and the most fashionable…”

  “Mom,” I interrupt. “I said I don’t like this dress.” I tried on a black sleeveless with a high collar a few dresses back that I’d kinda liked, but Mom thought it was too plain. “Not enough pizzazz,” she’d said.

  “Just a sec, Lola, honey.” She holds her hand up to me and turns back to the girl. “So, where are those stores? Are they on this level?”

  “I want the black one,” I protest, but my words fall on deaf ears.

  Mom whips out her cellphone and snaps a picture of me in the awful dress. I look like a hooker from 1982.

  “What are you doing?” I screech and jump into the change room.

  “I just want Eva to see the dress before I make up my mind. I need one more opinion. I’m sending it to her.”

  “No! I’m not getting this one. This is the kind of dress you and Eva would love, it’s not for me.” I slam the door shut and struggle to free myself from the hideous thing. I put my jeans and T-shirt back on, and step out, determined to get my way.

  “Lola?” Mom asks, sounding all weird. “Where’d you go?”

  She’s looking right at me. “I’m here,” I answer.

  “Oh, my God, where’s my girl. Where did she go?” Mom turns to the salesgirl who simply throws her hands in the air and shrugs.

  Mom jumps toward the change room and I instinctively leap out of the way. Anger and frustration must have brought on an episode of invisibility. I realize I didn’t have to move. She would have passed right through me anyway, like my hand did that day at the camp when I tried to grab Justine.

  A deep satisfaction settles over me as I watch my mother and the salesgirl in their frantic search. I stroll over to a comfy looking chair and sit. It’s interesting that I can manage to sit or even bump into things and hurt myself while invisible, but when I try to grab something or someone, my hand passes right through.

  I watch for a while longer, as Mom and the salesgirl, whose name I’ve since discovered is Anna, run around searching for me in the most ridiculous of places. They peer in every change room and even check behind the sales counter and storage room in the back of the store. How on earth would I have gotten from the change room to the storage room without anyone seeing? That is, if I weren’t invisible.

  The store manager, a tall lanky blonde with a superior attitude picks up the phone and I hear her talking to mall security.

  Oh no! I stand, wave my arms and scream at the top of my lungs. It was fun watching Mom get all panicky while looking for me, but I don’t need the added drama of a security guard. Then maybe even the cops. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

  What if I never come back? There’s no doubt I’ve been gone longer than my past record of a little over two minutes. But exactly how long, I don’t know; five, six minutes? My heart bangs against my ribs and I begin to hyperventilate.

  “Oh, God, Lola! Where have you been?” Mom cries and wraps her arms around me. I’m met with a face full of hair. With her heels and piled up hair, Mom’s almost my height. I squeeze back and let out a long breath of relief. My heart slows, and my breathing becomes regular, but my legs are still a little rubbery.

  I’ve drawn a crowd. Anna and the manager hang back with the shoppers. A low applause erupts from the on-lookers and suddenly I feel a little guilty, not to mention like a five-year-old reunited with her mother after being lost in Wal-Mart.

  “Where were you?”

  “I was sitting right there the whole time. You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve said and I suppose you didn’t see me because you didn’t want to.” I feign indignation.

  “How in the world could I do that? It wasn’t just me looking for you,” she replies, confusion settling on her face.

  “Well, I was right there.” I point to th
e chair.

  “But… but… how in the world…?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Mom. I’m fine and I’m right here, so can we go back and get the black dress?”

  The manager and Anna the salesgirl have gone back to work and the crowd has dissipated. Mom pulls a compact from her purse and applies another coat of lipstick on her collagen-enhanced lips and pats her hair back in place. Settling her nerves seems to include a bit of preening.

  “Oh, okay, if that’s what you want, honey,” she says absently, looking a million miles away.

  I smile. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”

  Chapter Nine

  Victory is mine. Well, sort of.

  I still have to go to the grad dance and I have to wear a friggin’ dress, but I suppose I won because Mom bought the one I kinda liked. I shoved it in my closet as soon as we got home, and there it can stay until I absolutely have no choice but to wear it. Mom even relented on the jewelry. My little disappearing act threw enough of a scare into her that she let me get what I wanted. All that’s left are my shoes, but I convinced her to get them another time. I’m hoping to go to the mall on my own, or with Charlie, to pick them. Shoe shopping with Mom is another nightmare I could do without.

  It’s Sunday morning and time for my visit with Grandma Rose. I slip out of the house before anyone’s up and don’t bother to leave a note, figuring they’ll know where I am. As I approach the park where I was almost beaten up a week ago, I quicken my pace, even though no one’s there at this hour. I keep my gaze trained straight ahead, completely ignoring the corner of Whiteside and Moorehouse. The heat of humiliation flushes my cheeks and I fight back tears as I remember what they did to me, and that Jon was there to witness it.

  By the time I get to Gran’s and slip the key into the lock of her apartment door, I realize I’d clenched my jaw the whole way over, causing an uncomfortable ache. With thumbs, I rub at the place where the bones meet, trying to unlock the tension there.

  “Is that my darling granddaughter?” Gran calls from her usual spot in the solarium.