“Aaaarrgghh!” he growls. “You’re going to be sorry!”
He stands up and charges at me. I turn and run. We end up circling Hedge Man’s Santa, around and around like cartoon characters. If only I could keep my mouth shut. If only I could stop running and start laughing, it could have turned out okay. But I couldn’t.
“You can’t even catch me, you’re such a loser,” I yell.
Charlie’s face becomes unrecognizable with rage. His eyes bulge and his face turns bright red.
“Aaaarrgghh!” he shouts.
He lunges forward, finding new speed and strength. He grabs me by the neck and we both start to go down. At first, the topiary Santa breaks our fall, but then the three of us crash to the ground, dragging down leaves, legs, lights, arms, branches, and miles and miles of electrical wire.
“Oh no,” says Charlie.
“Oh no,” I say.
Santa lies on his back, only he doesn’t look like Santa anymore. He just looks like a small bush covered in junk. His head has been snapped clean off.
“We are in so much trouble,” I say.
“Oh no,” says Charlie again.
It’s early morning, and I’ve been wide awake all night, worrying about what Hedge Man is going to do to me. This time it wasn’t even Elizabeth’s fault. It was all mine.
“There’s no business like snow business …”
For a moment I think I’m dreaming. I even pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. Hedge Man is singing. I leap out of bed and look out the window. The whole world is white. It must have been snowing for hours. Right in the middle of the cul-de-sac, the Santa, in all his illuminated, flashing splendor, beams up at me. Charlie’s standing in his driveway, staring in amazement. Two seconds later, I’m down beside him.
“How did you do it?” I whisper to Charlie.
“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers back. “That’s weird …”
“What?” I ask.
“I just thought I saw a face, but now it’s gone,” says Charlie, squinting hard.
“Elf One, Elf Two!” We automatically stand to attention.
“Grab a couple of shovels and start digging! The judges will be here in two hours. We need to get this sidewalk cleared.”
“Right away, General X,” we both reply.
Later, after the judges are gone and everyone is milling around, congratulating one another on their tremendous effort, I hear a rustle coming from below Santa’s sack.
“Hey! Get me a bagel, Frank. I’m starving.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Who else would stand in the freezing cold holding up a Santa head all day?” she says. “You owe me big-time.”
The head of Mr. H’s topiary Santa mysteriously falls off around lunchtime. But by then it doesn’t matter; we’ve already won first prize.
“Why don’t we all chip in and buy the biggest Christmas tree you’ve ever seen to put in its place?” I say.
“My, you’re full of good ideas,” Gnome Lady says, putting her arm around me. “I like that in a neighbor.”
Chapter Nine
It’s the middle of January and all our Christmas trees are dead and waiting to be hauled away to the wood chipper. A band of teenagers comes in a rusty pickup truck and goes from door to door offering to take them away for two bucks each.
I can hardly believe my eyes. It’s Grim Reaper Number Two from last Halloween—minus the cheap black hood, the white makeup, and the black eyeliner. Of course, that’s not to say he looks any better. He still has the kind of face that would give you nightmares.
“Aren’t you the Grim Reaper?”
“From Halloween? What about it?”
“I just didn’t think we’d see you around this neighborhood again.”
“You want your tree taken or not?”
“Why are you so nasty?” Elizabeth asks when he’s taken our old tree and a couple of dollars. “I heard he’s actually kind of nice. Once you get to know him.”
“Yeah, I guess he just hangs out with the wrong crowd … the undead.”
A couple of days later, he’s back again.
“Looking for more trees? You’ll have to wait till next year,” I say.
“I got a note in my locker,” he mumbles from behind his long, greasy hair. “It said to drop by this address some time. It’s signed ‘Elizabeth.’ “
“That’s my sister.”
He stands there and nods for a moment or two and stares out into the distance. Then with a heave, he shoves both hands in the pockets of his low-slung jeans and looks momentarily decisive, in a wimpy kind of way.
“Well … uh … is she here? Can I, like, see her?”
I can’t resist it.
“No,” I say, “not exactly.”
“Oh.” He looks confused.
He obviously hasn’t met Elizabeth or he’d get it. On the other hand, he does look pretty dim.
“Elizabeth! Someone is here for you. An agent of death.”
From upstairs, we both hear her freaking out.
The Grim One frowns at me. I suspect that this is going to be even better than the time at Halloween when he dropped all the bags and ran away. Elizabeth comes bounding down the stairs.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“I’ll leave you two alone then,” I offer.
His face changes from “hip emo dude who couldn’t really care less” to “freaked out” in under a second.
“Wait,” says the Reaper. “I didn’t realize it was that Elizabeth. She’s the, she’s the, the, the …”
As he struggles with one of the shorter words in the English language, only a few seconds pass. But to him it must feel like forever.
“The invisible girl,” says Elizabeth flatly. “If you want to be politically correct, you can say ‘visibly challenged.’ “
Grim Boy’s eyes dart from side to side as if he’d be able to see her if only he tried hard enough.
“Whoa, too freaky for me,” he mutters. “I’m outta here.” And with one last greasy glance in our direction, the Grim One lopes back down the road.
“Eww,” I say. “You don’t seriously like him, do you? Did you really send him a note?”
But Elizabeth’s not listening.
“I can’t believe he called me a freak,” she says in a quiet voice. “He doesn’t even like me. I’m so embarrassed.” She thumps back up the stairs.
“Why do you care?” I call up after her. “He’s a total loser.”
“I hate this town and everybody in it!”
“Calm down, Elizabeth,” I say, running up the stairs after her. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“Start packing.”
Chapter Ten
It’s been about a week now since Elizabeth started her full-on sulk. As I said, no one does it better. It’s like sharing a house with a malevolent poltergeist. Doors slam unexpectedly, plates smash, and faucets are left on full blast in the middle of the night. Once she hit me in the face with a cushion for no reason while I was watching TV and nearly gave me a heart attack. Bob’s been under my bed since Tuesday. He’ll only come out to eat or to go for walks with me. I’ve taken him on twenty-six already. Plus, Elizabeth really did pack all of her stuff and is now living out of her suitcase. The only thing she stuck with is her radio show, playing one gloomy song after another.
Charlie says that the Grim One broke her heart. He thinks maybe she might need a boyfriend.
“Fat chance that’s going to happen. And anyway, she’s not old enough for a boyfriend,” I say as we stand, shivering, next to the garage so we’re out of earshot. “Besides, who’d put up with someone like her?”
As if to illustrate my point, her Boys-R-Us alarm clock comes flying out of the upstairs window and smashes on the sidewalk in front of us.
“Maniac!” I shout. “You almost hit us!”
“Gee whiz, she must be really mad,” says Charlie. “That’s official tour merchandise.”
Mom and Dad are doin
g the usual, pretending that nothing’s wrong. But Dad did ask me the other day what I thought of Pittsburgh. Thank goodness Mom just got some swanky Valentine’s Day gig at the town hall. It’s the biggest job she’s had since we moved here. She wants her waiters and waitresses to dress up as Cupids, with bows, arrows, the works. She’s already hit every dollar store and bought all the red paper to make valentine bunting. Plus, she’s ordered several crates of pink champagne and a truckload of oysters. I think it all sounds totally gross, but I’m keeping my mouth shut.
Of course, the whole family has been roped into helping her. I was told to cut out five hundred red paper hearts in varying sizes, which she intends to hang from the ceiling. Dad’s gluing feathers to huge cardboard wings. Elizabeth has been put in charge of cupcake production.
“Oh …,” says my mother. “Aren’t they a little bit …”
Instead of the pale pink Mom specified, the cakes are a deep, dark, murderous red, the color of congealing blood. Elizabeth must have used an entire bottle of red food coloring in the cake batter.
“… dark?” says Elizabeth.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” says Mom cheerfully. “We’ll slap on some frosting, a little bit of edible glitter, and no one will be any the wiser.”
“Oh Mom, come on,” I blurt out. “I wouldn’t eat one of those if I were starving to death.”
“Frank!” she shouts at me. “You have work to do. I need those hearts yesterday.”
I go back to my pile of paper hearts. Every single one has been torn in half.
Dad’s pulling all the feathers out of an old pillow. The white fluff is sticking to his eyebrows, his upper lip, his hair. He looks about a thousand years old.
“Son,” he says, “get thee to the kitchen and bringeth me back a flagon of hot tea.” Mom finds him funny, but I’m still too mad.
“If you see Elizabeth,” I say, “tell her I’m going to kill her.”
“Frank,” says Dad, “we don’t use that kind of language in this house. Are you nearly finished with the heart job? I need some help here.”
Great. She trashes all my hard work, and I get into trouble. It’s the story of my life. But this is not the time to make a fuss. This is not the time to blow the whistle. Even last year I would have gone mental. But I know that this party is really important for Mom. This party is really important for all of us. And if it doesn’t go well and Elizabeth gets her way, who knows where we could end up? In another moving van, heading to another life. I pick up my scissors and start cutting again.
When Charlie drops by five hours later, I’m still at it.
“You know that guy who works at Comic Cave?” asks Charlie. “He knows almost every single male between the ages of nine and forty-five. Single males.”
“So?” I reply.
“Don’t you get it? Single males!” He’s shouting now.
“You mean every single loser, geek, and nerd head?” I say.
“What? That’s our favorite shop.”
“What’s your point, Charlie?”
“Look, Elizabeth needs a boyfriend.”
“Not that kind of boyfriend.”
“Frank, the Grim Reaper wouldn’t even take her! Comic Cave Guy is coming up with a list of the truly desperate.”
“Charlie,” I say, “that is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Elizabeth will never go for it.”
“Well, Comic Cave Guy is already on it. I even traded him Iron Mask, Number ten and Spider Aztec Sting, Number six, Volume two.”
“Hey, those are mine! Whatever your evil plan might be, I can tell you right now, it’s a waste of time.”
“Just hear me out…. We get them together at your mom’s Valentine’s Day party, they fall in love, and bingo, she’s off your back. Simple.”
“The only thing around here that’s simple is you.”
Charlie sticks out his tongue at me and crosses his eyes.
“Charlie, Frank,” shouts Mom, “come in here for a second. I need you to try on your waiter outfits.”
“What waiter outfit?” asks Charlie.
“It has nothing to do with me,” I reply.
Later, I’m lying in bed wide awake even though it’s the middle of the night. My hand is killing me from all the cutting, and I can’t fall asleep. I’m having visions of more public humiliation as Charlie and I walk around the town hall in our idiotic Cupid getups. Mom said she was short-staffed. I said she was out of her mind. Mom said twenty dollars. Each. Charlie said why not. I suggested plenty of reasons in the “not” camp.
“For twenty dollars,” said Charlie, “I’d dress up as Britney Spears.”
I laughed so hard it hurt.
“But for that price I’ll expect you to be on your best behavior,” said Mom.
And so I agreed to the deal. Even though I’m still not convinced it’s worth the money.
Dad is way behind on his wings assembly, and Mom is staying up late to give him a hand. I open my bedroom door to go and get a drink of water. It is then that I overhear them talking.
“This one’s make or break,” says Dad. “What do you think?”
“I think I don’t really want to talk about this right now,” Mom says.
“But when else can we talk about it? This is serious.”
For a second, neither of them says anything.
“You haven’t told anybody, have you?” asks Dad.
“Of course not. Okay … but if it goes horribly wrong, how about leaving in the middle of the night?” Mom says.
“Yes, that’s perfect. That’s it,” says Dad.
“And then nobody will know.”
“See, I told you it wouldn’t take long to figure out.”
I stand stock-still. This must be a dream. I pinch myself hard. “Ouch!”
“Frank, is that you?” says Mom.
I creep back into my room and gently close the door. My mind starts to race. This party is more important than I realized. Ever since Dad got suspended from the newspaper for reviewing a restaurant that had closed down, Mom’s had to shoulder all the pressure. Not to mention my sister’s current mood. But things must be much worse than I’d thought; we might have to leave in the middle of the night! If we have to move again, then everything I’ve worked so hard for will count for nothing. Bob looks up at me with his head to one side, as if he’s asking me what’s wrong.
“Come here, boy,” I say. “Whatever happens, we’ll always be together.”
Bob jumps up on my bed and rests his head on my stomach. Neither of us manages to fall asleep till dawn.
The night of the party finally arrives. The town hall is lit up inside in every shade of pink you can imagine. There’s a chocolate fountain, a cocktail bar, and a stage set up for a band. Who knows what kind of romantic garbage they’re going to play? I haven’t seen Mom for hours. Last time I saw Dad, he was standing on the top rung of a ladder, holding a huge mirror ball. As for Elizabeth, she’s keeping a low profile. So far, so good. Maybe, for once, our family won’t mess up. Maybe, for once, we’ll get it right. But if not … I gaze out of the window toward the shopping center and the busy intersection. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see the corner of my school.
“What do you think of this town?” I ask Charlie.
He shrugs. “It’s a dump,” he says.
“Well, I sort of like it,” I say.
He looks at me as if I’m crazy.
“You’re such a freak sometimes,” he says, looking over my shoulder at the traffic heading toward the multistory parking lot or the municipal recycling center.
“I wasn’t the one who said he wanted to dress up as Britney Spears.”
“That’s not what I said,” he replies.
“Was too!” I retaliate.
“Boys!” shouts Mom, suddenly appearing with a giant heart-shaped meringue cake covered with pink cream and strawberries. “Have you seen the packet of birthday candles anywhere?”
“Whose birthday is it?” asks Charlie.
“You mean she’s invisible too?” asks Charlie.
“Visibly challenged,” says Mom. “Yes. Nobody knows why, but it was just after she met the mayor’s father for the first time. Anyway, she’s quite a fixture in this town. She makes cakes for almost every birthday, wedding, or anniversary. I have to find those candles … I think it’s time to get changed into your outfits. And then can you start polishing the—”
Thankfully, her phone rings.
“I don’t believe what you are telling me!” she shouts into the mouthpiece. “You know I ordered the scarlet, not the crimson! Hello? Hello?”
Before she rushes out with her phone glued to her ear in search of better reception, she turns to us.
“The silver … it’s in the plastic crate next to the sink.”
“Are we going to get paid extra for that?” Charlie asks me as we examine our Cupid outfits.
“She’s probably going to pay us in congealed-blood cupcakes,” I say as I pull on my wings. “Who else is going to eat them?”
Charlie looks puzzled. “I snuck one of those earlier … they’re really good.”
“Elizabeth made them. You have to be blind to like those.”
“Speaking of which,” says Charlie, “I did it. I set it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The blind date. I set it up,” he says. “For your sister.”
“What?”
I turn so quickly, my wings knock over an empty cake stand.
“Frank!” shouts Mom from the other side of the hall. “All breakages come out of your pay.”
“Yeah, his name is Owen. He’s into Star Trek. He can even speak a little Klingon. Comic Cave Guy says he’s not half bad, other than a very annoying laugh. If she can’t snag him, then—”
“Then what?” says my sister.
“Elizabeth,” I say.
“Did I just hear you say you set me up on a blind date?” she asks.
My Invisible Sister Page 6
