Let's Get Invisible (8 page)

“Scary,” Erin mumbled thoughtfully.

“Yeah. Scary,” I said. “So I don’t know. I’ve got to think about this. A lot.
In the meantime, it’s got to be a secret.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said doubtfully. “But think about the science fair, Max.
We could win the prize. We really could.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told her.

I haven’t thought about anything else! I realized.

“April wants to try it,” she said.

“Huh?”

“I convinced her. I told her it didn’t hurt or anything. So she wants to try
it on Wednesday. We
are
going to do it on Wednesday, aren’t we, Max?”

“I guess,” I replied reluctantly. “Since everyone wants to.”

“Great!” she exclaimed. “I think I’ll beat your record.”

“The new record is ten minutes,” I informed her. I explained about Lefty and
his dinnertime adventure.

“Your brother is really a nut,” Erin remarked.

I agreed with her, then said good night.

I couldn’t get to sleep that night. I tried sleeping on one side, then the
other. I tried counting sheep. Everything.

I knew I was sleepy. But my heart was racing. I just couldn’t get
comfortable. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the mirror in the little
room above me.

It was nearly three in the morning when I crept barefoot out of my room, wide
awake, and headed up to the attic. As before, I leaned heavily on the banister
as I climbed, trying to keep the wooden stairs from their usual symphony of
creaks and groans.

In my hurry to get to the little room, I stubbed my toe on the corner of a
wooden crate.

“Ow!” I screamed as quietly as possible. I wanted to hop up and down, but I
forced myself to stand still, and waited for the pain to fade.

As soon as I could walk again, I made my way into the little room. I pulled a
carton in front of the mirror and sat down on it.

My toe still throbbed, but I tried to ignore it. I stared at my dark
reflection in the mirror, studying my hair first, of course. It was totally
messed up, but I really didn’t care.

Then I peered beyond my reflection, behind it. I guess I was trying to look
deep into the glass. I don’t really know what I was doing or why I was up there.

I was so tired and pumped up at the same time, so curious and confused,
sleepy and nervous.

I ran a hand along the glass, surprised again at how cool it felt in the hot,
nearly airless little room. I pushed my open hand against the glass, then pulled
it away. It left no handprint.

I moved my hand to the wooden frame, once again rubbing the smooth wood. I
stood up and slowly walked around to the back of the mirror. It was too dark
back here to really examine it carefully. But there wasn’t anything to examine.
The back of the frame was smooth, plain, and uninteresting.

I came back around to the front and gazed up at the light. It looked like an
ordinary lamp. Nothing at all special about it. The bulb was an odd shape, long
and very thin. But it looked like an ordinary light bulb.

Sitting back down on the carton, I rested my head in my hands and stared
drowsily into the mirror. I yawned silently.

I knew I should go back downstairs and go to sleep. Mom and Dad were going to
wake us up early the next morning to drive to Springfield.

But something was holding me there.

My curiosity, I guess.

I don’t know how long I sat there, still as a statue, watching my own
unmoving reflection. It may have been just a minute or two. Or it might have
been half an hour.

But after a while, as I stared into the mirror, the reflection seemed to lose
its sharpness. Now I found myself staring at vague shapes, blurred colors,
deepening shadows.

And then I heard the soft whisper.

“Maaaaaaaax.”

Like the wind through the trees. The hushed shaking of leaves.

Not a voice at all. Not even a whisper.

Just the hint of a whisper.

“Maaaaaaaaax.”

At first, I thought it was inside my own head.

So faint. So soft. But so near.

I held my breath, listened hard.

Silence now.

So it
was
inside my head, I told myself. I
was
imagining it.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“Maaaaax.”

Again, the whisper.

Louder this time. Sad, somehow. Almost a plea. A call for help. From far, far
away.

“Maaaaaaaax.”

I raised my hands to my ears. Was I trying to shut it out? To see if I could
make it go away?

Inside the mirror, the dark reflected shapes shifted slowly. I stared back at myself, my expression tense, frightened. I
realized I was chilled from head to foot. My whole body shivered from the cold.

“Maaaaax.”

The whisper, I realized, was coming from the mirror.

From my own reflection? From somewhere behind my reflection?

I leapt to my feet, turned away, and ran. My bare feet slapped against the
hardwood floor. I plunged down the stairs, flew across the hall, dived into my
bed.

I shut my eyes tight and prayed the frightening whisper wouldn’t follow me.

I pulled the covers up to my chin. I felt so cold. My entire body was
trembling.

I was breathing hard, gripping the top of the blanket with both hands,
waiting, listening.

Would the whispers follow me into my room? Were they real, or only in my
head?

Who was calling to me, whispering my name in that sad, desperate voice?

Suddenly I heard panting louder than mine. I felt hot breath on my face.
Sour-smelling and moist.

It reached for me. It grabbed my face.

I opened my eyes in terror.

“Whitey!” I cried.

The dumb dog was standing on his hind paws, leaning over the blanket,
furiously licking my face.

“Whitey, good dog!” I cried, laughing. His scratchy tongue tickled. I was never so glad to see him.

I hugged him and pulled him up into the bed. He whimpered excitedly. His tail
was wagging like crazy.

“Whitey, what’s got you so worked up?” I asked, hugging him. “Do you hear
voices, too?”

He uttered a low bark, as if answering the question. Then he hopped off the
bed and shook himself. He turned three times in a tight circle, making a place
for himself on the carpet, and lay down, yawning loudly.

“You’re definitely weird tonight,” I said. He curled himself into a tight
ball and chewed softly on his tail.

Accompanied by the dog’s gentle snores, I eventually drifted into a restless
sleep.

When I awoke, the morning sky outside my bedroom window was still gray. The
window was open just a crack, and the curtains were swaying in a strong breeze.

I sat up quickly, instantly alert. I have to stop going up to the attic, I
thought.

I have to forget about the stupid mirror.

I stood up and stretched. I’ve got to stop. And I’ve got to get everyone else
to stop.

I thought of the whispered cry from the night before. The dry, sad voice,
whispering my name.

“Max!”

The voice from outside my room startled me out of my chilling thoughts.

“Max—time to wake up! We’re going to Springfield, remember?” It was my mom
out in the hallway. “Hurry. Breakfast is on the table.”

“I’m already up!” I shouted. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

I heard her footsteps going down the stairs. Then I heard Whitey downstairs
barking at the door to be let out.

I stretched again.

“Whoa!” I cried out as my closet door swung open.

A red Gap T-shirt rose up off the top shelf and began to float across the
room.

I heard giggling. Familiar giggling.

The T-shirt danced in front of me.

“Lefty, you’re ridiculous!” I yelled angrily. I swiped at the T-shirt, but it
danced out of my reach. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”

“I had my fingers crossed,” he said, giggling.

“I don’t care!” I cried. I lunged forward and grabbed the shirt. “You’ve got
to stop. I mean it.”

“I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, pretending his feelings were hurt.
A pair of jeans floated up from the closet shelf and began to parade back and
forth in front of me.

“Lefty, I’m going to
murder
you!” I shouted. Then I lowered my voice,
remembering that Mom and Dad might hear. “Put that down—now. Go upstairs and
turn off the mirror light. Hurry!”

I shook my fist at where the jeans were marching. I was so angry.

Why did he have to be so dumb? Didn’t he realize that this wasn’t just a
game?

Suddenly, the jeans collapsed in a heap on the carpet.

“Lefty, toss them to me,” I instructed him. “Then get upstairs and get
yourself visible again.”

Silence.

The jeans didn’t move.

“Lefty—don’t fool around,” I snapped, feeling a stab of dread in the pit of
my stomach. “Toss me the jeans and get out of here.”

No reply.

The jeans remained crumpled on the carpet.

“Stop this stupid game!” I screamed. “You’re not funny! So just stop it.
Really. You’re
scaring
me!”

I knew that’s what he wanted to hear. Once I admitted that he was scaring me,
I was sure he’d giggle and go do as I said.

But no. The room was still silent. The curtains fluttered toward me, then
pulled back with a gentle rustling sound. The jeans lay crumpled on the carpet.

“Lefty? Hey, Lefty?” I called, my voice trembling. No reply.

“Lefty? Are you here?” No. Lefty was gone.

“Lefty?” My voice came out weak and trembling.

He wasn’t there. It wasn’t a game. He was gone.

Without thinking, I ran out of my room, down the hall, and up the stairs to
the attic. My bare feet pounded on the steep wooden steps. My heart was pounding
even louder.

As I stepped into the heat of the attic, a wave of fear swept over me.

What if Lefty had disappeared
forever
?

With a frightened cry, I lunged into the tiny room.

The bright light reflected in the mirror shone into my eyes.

Shielding my eyes with one hand, I made my way to the mirror and pulled the
string. The light went out immediately.

“Lefty?” I called anxiously.

No reply.

“Lefty? Are you up here? Can you hear me?”

Fear clogged my throat. I was panting loudly, barely able to speak.

“Lefty?”

“Hi, Max. I’m here.” My brother’s voice came from right beside me.

I was so happy to hear it, I turned and gave him a hug, even though I
couldn’t see him.

“I’m okay,” he said, startled by my emotion. “Really, Max. I’m okay.”

It took a few minutes for him to reappear.

“What happened?” I asked, checking him out, looking him up and down as if I
hadn’t seen him for months. “You were clowning around in my room. Then you were
gone.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted with a shrug.

“But where did you go?” I demanded.

“Up here,” he repeated.

“But Lefty—” Something about him looked different. I couldn’t quite put my
finger on it. But staring at his face, I was sure that something was weird.

“Stop staring at me like that, Max.” He shoved me away. “I’m fine. Really.”
He started dancing away from me, heading to the stairs.

“But, Lefty—” I followed him out of the room.

“No more questions. Okay? I’m all right.”

“Stay away from the mirror,” I said sternly. “Do you hear me?”

He started down the stairs.

“I mean it, Lefty. Don’t get invisible again.”

“Okay, okay,” he snapped. “I won’t do it anymore.”

I checked to make sure his fingers weren’t crossed. This time they weren’t.

Mom was waiting for us in the hall. “So
there
you are,” she said
impatiently. “Max, you’re not dressed!”

“I’ll hurry,” I told her, and bolted into my room.

“Lefty, what did you do to your hair?” I heard Mom ask my brother. “Did you
brush it differently or something?”

“No,” I heard Lefty reply. “It’s the same, Mom. Really. Maybe your eyes are
different.”

“Stop being such a smart mouth and get downstairs,” Mom told him.

Something was definitely weird about Lefty. Mom had noticed it, too. But I
couldn’t figure out what.

As I picked my jeans up off the floor and pulled them on, I started to feel a
little better. I had been so frightened, frightened that something terrible had
happened to my brother. Frightened that he’d disappeared for good, and I’d never
see him again.

All because of that stupid mirror.

All because it was such a thrill to get invisible.

I suddenly thought about Erin, April, and Zack.

They were so excited about Wednesday. About the big competition. Even April
was going to get invisible this time.

No, I thought.

I have to call them. I have to tell them.

I’ve really made up my mind.

No more mirror. No more getting invisible.

I’ll call all three of them when I get back from Springfield. And I’ll tell
them the competition is cancelled.

I sat down on my bed to tie my sneakers.

Whew, I thought. That’s a load off my mind.

And it was. Having decided not to use the mirror ever again made me feel
much, much better. All of my fear seemed to float away.

Little did I know that the most frightening time was still to come.

Imagine my surprise when Zack, Erin, and April showed up at my front door on
Wednesday morning.

“I told you guys the competition is off,” I sputtered, staring at them in
astonishment through the screen door.

“But Lefty called us,” Erin replied. “He said you changed your mind.” The
other two agreed.

My mouth dropped open to my knees. “Lefty?”

They nodded. “He called us yesterday,” April said.