by R. L. Stine
My parents gazed up from their plates.
I took a deep breath while they waited for me to go on.
“There’s an invisible kid in my room — and I need your help. I have to get rid of him!”
I had to tell Mom and Dad.
I didn’t know what else to do.
Mom and Dad were really smart — for parents. They were scientists, after all. They’d know how to get rid of Brent.
“Not now, Sammy,” Mom said impatiently. “Your father and I had a very hard day today. We worked for hours on the Molecule Detector Light — and it’s still not working properly.”
She sighed. “After dinner we’re going down to the basement to work on it some more. So eat quickly. We don’t have time for your wild stories.”
I felt a kick under the table. “Cut it out, Simon.” I glared at my brother.
“It wasn’t me.” Simon smirked. “It was the invisible kid!”
Great. Simon, the serious mutant, is trying to be funny.
I kicked Simon back.
“Hey — that hurt!” he whined.
“It wasn’t my fault. Your legs are in the way. They must be growing. Quick! Measure them!” I snickered.
“Ha-ha.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Is the invisible kid as funny as you are?” He kicked me again.
“Simon —” I started.
“Cut it out, you two!” Dad shouted.
I turned to Dad. “But there really is an invisible kid. You’ve got to believe me. I need your help.”
“Not tonight,” Dad groaned. “Please. Your mom and I had such a terrible day.”
I tried again. “He could be dangerous. He’s upstairs and —”
“Sammy — not another word. I mean it,” Dad said. “No more crazy stories.”
So much for smart parents.
Now what am I going to do? I wondered as Mom placed our dinner on the table. I’ve got to get rid of Brent. But how?
All through dinner, I thought and thought. And by the time Mom served dessert, I had an idea!
“Brent? Are you here?”
I held out a few pieces of chicken wrapped in a napkin. It was easy sneaking it out of the dining room.
Mom and Dad talked about work all through dinner. Light refraction. Frequency waves. The usual stuff. They didn’t pay any attention to me.
And Simon was too busy worrying about his science project. He was still the same size. He even measured his fingernails, but they hadn’t grown, either.
When no one was looking, I wrapped the chicken in my napkin and placed it in my lap — and Brutus wailed.
Brutus loves chicken.
He tried to jump into my lap.
He clawed at the napkin.
He wailed some more.
“Can’t you do something about that cat?” Mom asked. “Your father and I can’t think.”
“Come on, Brutus.” I shoved the napkin under my T-shirt. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I jumped up from my chair and waved for Brutus to follow me. He let out a sharp cry — and ran in the other direction.
Wow! Brutus knows! I realized. Brutus knows that something weird is upstairs in my room.
I bet that’s why he won’t sleep in my room anymore!
I hurried to my room and held out the chicken. “Brent — aren’t you hungry?” I stood in one spot. I turned in a circle, holding out the chicken.
“I’m starving. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I felt a light tug as Brent took the food from my hand.
I watched the napkin unfold by itself.
“Mmmm. Fried chicken.” A big bite disappeared. “This is excellent. Your mom is a great cook! Thanks.”
“Roxanne’s mom is a great cook, too,” I said. “Better than my mom. Much better. I eat at Roxanne’s house all the time. Whenever I can.”
Brent kept on eating.
“You should eat at Roxanne’s. You’d see what I mean.”
Brent kept on eating.
“Hey! I just thought of a great idea!” I said. “You should be Roxanne’s best friend. Roxanne needs a ghost for our school project. You could be the ghost! That would make Roxanne so happy! She would have a ghost right in her own house. And you’d be happy, too — eating all that great food! Come on! I can take you over there right now!”
Brent stopped eating.
“I am not going to Roxanne’s house,” he declared. “She’s a girl. I don’t want to be a girl’s best friend. I want to be your best friend. And I already told you — I am not a ghost.”
The empty napkin floated toward me. “Is there any more chicken?” he asked. “I’m still hungry! And how about some dessert?”
* * *
I sat down on my bed and waited for Brent to finish his second helping of chicken and the bowl of ice cream I sneaked upstairs for him.
Then I tried again. “Brent, you have to leave. You have to go.”
“But I want to be your best friend!” he insisted. “I’m never leaving. NEVER!”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to be my friend,” I told him. “I have plenty of friends — at least I did, until you came along.”
I stood up and paced back and forth across my room. “You are ruining my life,” I said. “I want you to leave. I want you to get out of my house and never come back!”
Silence.
“Do you hear me?”
More silence.
“I know you’re here, Brent. Answer me!”
“Please — can we talk later?” he finally replied. “I’m way tired. I need to get some rest.”
The covers on my bed began to fold down. Then an invisible hand punched the pillow.
“Ahhhh,” Brent sighed. “Your bed is so great!”
That’s when I lost it. “We cannot talk later. We have to talk now. I want you to get out!” I screamed. “NOW!”
“Really?” Brent’s voice changed. Deeper — and meaner. A lot meaner.
“Y-yes. Really,” I stammered.
“And what if I won’t go?” he asked.
I took a step back — away from the bed.
I didn’t like the way Brent said that. It sounded like a threat.
“Well, Sammy — what if I won’t go?” he repeated menacingly.
I took another step back — and felt a hot hand clamp down on my shoulder.
I tried to break free — but I couldn’t. He was too strong.
Brent grabbed my arm. He held it tightly.
“Leave me alone!” I shouted. “Let me go!”
But he started to pull me — toward the open window!
What did he plan to do?
Push me out the window?
“Stop! Let go! Hey — let go!” I shot my arms up — and broke free.
“Sorry,” Brent muttered. “I was just goofing. You know. Good friends wrestle sometimes — right? Just for fun?”
“Fun?” I cried weakly. My heart pounded in my chest.
He’s dangerous, I realized.
I don’t think he was kidding around. I think he wanted to shove me out the window.
Frightened, I turned and started to run to the door. But I stumbled over his invisible feet and fell hard to the floor.
Before I could scramble up, I felt his strong hands grab me again.
“Let go!” I screeched, my voice high and shrill in panic.
“I was just trying to help you up,” Brent said.
His hands released me.
I rubbed my sore wrists.
“Really. I was just helping you up,” Brent insisted. “You believe me, don’t you? Say you believe me.”
“Okay. Okay,” I grumbled. “I believe you.”
“Great!” Brent cheered.
“But you still have to leave,” I told him. “Everyone already thinks I’m too weird. I can’t have an invisible boy following me around, talking to me, living in my bedroom. Now go. Really. I mean it.”
“But I can help you,” Brent cried. “I helped you already — with that math equation.”
<
br /> “Oh, yeah. You helped me all right.” I started pacing my room again. “You helped me look like a total geek in front of all my friends — and my teacher.” I winced just thinking about it.
“Okay. I made a mistake. One little mistake,” Brent said.
“ONE little mistake!” My voice started to rise. “What about in the library today? Now the librarian thinks I’m totally crazy. She wants me to see the guidance counselor!”
I couldn’t help myself. I was yelling at him now. “And what about the track race? You ruined everything! You made me fall and lose the race. You made me disappoint everyone.”
“Sorry,” Brent said softly. “I thought I could help you win. I just wanted to give you a boost.”
“A boost?” I screamed. “You — you —”
My closet door opened.
My new, dark-blue Yankees baseball jacket floated out. “Hey — cool jacket!” Brent exclaimed. “I think the sleeves are too long, though. I don’t think it will fit me.”
The jacket slid off the hanger.
“Give that to me!” I snatched the jacket out of the air. “Now — leave! I don’t want you here.”
“Sammy — who on earth are you yelling at?” Mom stood in my bedroom doorway.
“The invisible kid!” I cried. “He’s here! He’s right here! You’ve got to believe me! Brent — say something!”
Silence.
“PLEASE, Brent!” I begged.
Nothing.
Mom walked over to me slowly, staring at me, shaking her head. She placed a hand on my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”
“I’m not sick, Mom. I’m fine. Really. And I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t know …” Her voice trailed off. Then she studied me carefully. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
“Then why are you holding your jacket?”
I stared down at the jacket. “Oh, I just wanted to see if it still fits,” I lied. I mean — what else could I say now?
“Of course it still fits. We bought it for you last week.” Mom stared hard at me. She placed her hand on my forehead again. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”
She glanced at my jacket again. Then she shook her head some more. “Now tell me — who were you shouting at?”
“Uh … no one. I was just rehearsing my lines … for the school play.”
“You’re in the school play?” she asked.
“Uh … no. Not exactly,” I said. “I’m rehearsing … in case they ask me to be in it.”
“Sammy, if something is bothering you — you know you can always tell me about it. Right?”
“Right,” I said.
Mom felt my forehead for the third time. She shook her head — again. She started for the door — and stopped.
“Your father and I have been working very hard. I know we haven’t been paying much attention to you. But that’s going to change now. We’re going to be here for you. In fact, we’re going to be watching you very closely.”
Great.
Mom and Dad were going to start studying me — like one of their science projects.
“It’s way too chilly in here, Sammy.” Mom walked over to my window and closed it. Then she left the room.
“Are you still here, Brent?” I snapped.
“Yes.”
“Why did you do that to me? Why wouldn’t you speak to my mother?” I demanded.
“Sorry,” Brent said. “But I don’t want anyone else to know about me. I just want to live with you and be your friend.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I replied sharply.
I suddenly felt hopeful. Because Mom had just given me a great idea!
Now I knew exactly what I had to do — to get rid of the invisible boy.
I ran straight across the hall to the bathroom. I turned the hot-water faucet in the shower up all the way.
Yes! A few seconds later, the mirror started to cloud with steam. Then I turned on the hot water in the sink — and in the bathtub, too.
Wow. Was it hot in here! Hotter than a tropical rain forest, I thought.
Excellent!
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and raced back into my room. I made sure the window was closed tightly. Then I opened the valve on my radiator. I kept turning it — until I heard the loud hiss of steam escape into my room.
Perspiration dripped from my face as the moist, warm air from the bathroom drifted into my room.
“Sammy, what are you doing?” Brent wailed. “It’s too hot in here!”
I laughed. “Sorry. But this is the way I like it!”
I raced down the hall and opened the valve on Mom and Dad’s radiator, then Simon’s radiator, too. I made sure all their windows were shut tight.
“Sammy, stop!” Brent begged. “It’s too hot! Too hot!”
I sat in my bed — and waited.
Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip. My T-shirt, drenched with sweat, clung to me.
Perfect!
“I — I can’t take it anymore.” Brent’s voice started to grow faint. “I — I can’t stay here. It’s … too … hot.”
Over his low cries, I heard my window slide up.
And I knew that my plan had worked. Brent was gone — for good.
On Saturday night, Roxanne and I had planned to go to the movies to see School Spirit. But the plan had changed. Roxanne insisted that if I didn’t go to Hedge House with her, she’d never speak to me again.
I believed her.
“Can you walk a little faster?” Roxanne asked. “It’s getting cold out here.”
She was right. A heavy fog had settled in. And a strong wind began to blow.
I shivered in the damp night air.
We walked quickly, down block after block. “We’re almost there,” Roxanne said as we neared the next corner. “Are you ready?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good.” Roxanne stopped. “We’re here.”
Whoa! I peered up — at the highest, darkest hedges I had ever seen. A wall of hedges so thick you couldn’t even see through it!
“I — I’ve never seen hedges grow so high before,” I stammered.
“ ‘It’s the will of the ghost. To keep the house chilly and dark — as cold and icy as the spirit itself.’ ” Roxanne smiled. “I memorized that part from the book I read to you.”
“How do we get in?” I asked, searching for a way through the tall shrubs.
“You’re lucky you have me for a partner,” Roxanne sighed. “You don’t know anything.”
We walked along the dark hedges until we came to a small opening. I peeked inside — and there stood Hedge House. Three stories high, tall and narrow, with lots of windows — most of them shattered. Sharp shards of glass poked up from the frames.
Wow! The hedges did grow as tall as the highest windows — just as the book said. The shingles on the outside of the house were blackened and rotted with age.
A strong gust of wind blew.
The hedge tops beat against the pointed roof — and sent a loose shingle hurtling through the air.
Roxanne and I jumped back — just in time.
I could see Roxanne shiver.
This house was really creepy!
“If you’re scared, we don’t have to go in,” I told her. “We can still go see the movie.”
“Me? Scared? Have you totally lost it?” she snapped. “Let’s go!”
Roxanne headed up the broken stone steps to the front door. I followed right behind her.
She walked up onto the wooden porch. “Be careful,” she said, glancing back at me. “These planks are kind of wobbly.”
She reached out for the front door. She slowly turned the doorknob.
The door swung open with a creak — and we stepped inside.
We stood in a large entrance hall.
A fancy chandelier hung from the ceiling directly over ou
r heads. Crystals in the shape of teardrops dangled from it. Crystals draped in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.
It felt icy cold in here. Much colder than outside. A sour odor rose up to greet us.
I shivered. I groped for a light switch, and found one on the wall next to the door.
I flicked the switch — but nothing happened.
“It’s not going to work!” Roxanne whispered. “Nobody has lived here for years! Turn on your flashlight.”
“What flashlight?” I asked.
“You didn’t bring a flashlight? You were supposed to bring a flashlight,” she whispered.
“I forgot,” I admitted.
Roxanne sighed. “Did you bring the video camera?” she demanded.
“Yes, it’s right here.” I pulled the video camera out of my backpack.
“At least you remembered something,” she muttered. She started to say something else. But instead, a cry escaped her lips.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Didn’t you hear something — like a low moan?” she asked, excited.
“No,” I told her. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, we just got here. I bet we hear moaning soon. Make sure you’re ready to record.”
We stepped forward — into the living room. Into a cold white mist.
“I can’t see a thing,” I whispered. “How did the living room get so foggy?”
“Look.” Roxanne pointed to one of the walls where the fog came seeping through the cracks. It entered in narrow streams, then billowed and swirled, filling the room.
I took another step — and the wind howled outside.
Something white flew at me.
I jumped back — then realized it was just the curtains. Filmy white curtains flapping over the broken front windows. Flapping hard.
Another gust blew. Stronger this time. It drove the streams of fog through the cracks.
“There’s nothing in here,” I said. Another shiver ran through me. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Roxanne led the way through the dining room and kitchen before we headed toward the steps. Both rooms were empty. Cold and empty.
We walked down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway we found the staircase. The old, wood banister was badly splintered. Parts of it were missing completely.
