Isabel the Invisible

by Christine Bush

  I always have this deep sadness inside of me because my father (Craig) had left Mom and me. When I was little, I just assumed it was because I was a bad baby. But Mom said that was not true, and it wasn't my fault at all. She said when I was older, I'd understand. We'll see.

  But right now, I was thinking about Danny, and how bad he must have felt when he lost his mother.

  "I bet your mom loved you very much," I said finally. “And you are lucky to have such a great dad. I think your dad is really nice."

  Mrs. Clancy reached over and patted my hand. "We all have a lot of sad things that happen in our lives. People leave us, either by death or by choice. But we have to go on. We have to remember the good things we have. Danny has a great father, and lots of people who love him. And Isabel, you have a wonderful mother, from what I've seen. You're a lucky little girl."

  Mrs. Clancy was, like I said, very wise. I thought about what she had said long after the donuts were nothing but crumbs and I was back home again, waiting for dinner.

  Mom came in from her job at the hospital, looking tired. I stared at her really hard, like I was seeing her for the first time. You know, she was pretty wonderful, just like Mrs. Clancy said.

  I crossed the hallway and gave her a hug and kiss, which I don't do very often anymore.

  "Wow!" she said with a smile. "That's really a nice welcome! Did you have a nice day?"

  I told her about the donut party and we made dinner together.

  "Mrs. Clancy sounds very nice," she said, while we ate.

  "She is. She told us a lot about appreciating people." I paused, thoughtfully. I was thinking about Danny and his dead mother. I was really lucky to have Mom. "Mom, I think I'll do all the dishes for you tonight. Just to show you I appreciate you."

  "Wow! Sure!" said Mom, laughing. "That Mrs. Clancy must be even better than nice! Want to scrub the kitchen floor while you're at it?"

  "Don't push your luck, Mom!"

  I could hear her laughing as she went to change her clothes. Within minutes, the paint smells were attacking again, but I wasn't really worried. Sooner or later, we would be running out of walls.

  Chapter 11

  There were two major events approaching. It was almost the end of October, which of course means it's time for Halloween. The second major event is a more personal one. On October 30, twelve years ago, I was born. My birthday was coming.

  Now of course, birthdays mean presents. Mom would get me a present, and usually Aunt Cindy would send me a funny card from Portland, Oregon, where she lived. She is my mother's sister, and she's really nice, but since she lives so far away, we don't get to see her very much.

  Usually the card would have some birthday money in it, so I was watching the mail every day. Mom said it wasn't polite to expect or count on a thing like that. I mean, a gift is a gift. There's not a rule about it or anything. But I had a feeling Aunt Cindy wouldn't forget me.

  So I wasn't "expecting" the card, but I have to admit I was "hoping". There's a difference.

  My mom had promised to take me out for my birthday to buy some clothes. She let me pick out my own, and I'm very thankful for that. Mom has no idea what rules Claire has come up with for coolness in clothes. On the one hand, I don't care much what Claire thinks, but on the other hand, I'm not looking for trouble in school.

  I had pretty much settled on a new pair of jeans and a cool shirt I had seen at the mall. They were great. Then usually, we'd make a cake, and eat it after my birthday dinner. That was pretty much the extent of our birthday celebrations.

  So I was surprised when Mom brought up a suggestion at dinner one night.

  "How about having some girlfriends over for a sleepover," she asked.

  I was eating a mouthful of spaghetti at the time, and it was almost a domestic disaster. But I finally swallowed without embarrassing myself.

  "A sleepover?" I repeated, sounding as if I were a little dense. Actually, I was stalling for time.

  "Twelve is a good age for that. Your room is looking great, all repainted and fresh. You could have some friends over for the night, eat popcorn, watch movies, and then sleep in sleeping bags in your room."

  I can't even start to tell you how good that sounded. Every single word. Picturing such an event in my very own room was almost too much for me. It was a fantastic idea. Fantastically impossible.

  My heart went from leaping to settling in my chest with a dull thud. I had the room, we had the popcorn. We even had some sleeping bags, and movies. One ingredient was missing, though. I didn't have any friends.

  "Uh, I don't think so Mom. Maybe next year." I tried to say the words in a nonchalant way, but even as they came out, I felt horrible. No friends. How humiliating.

  "I know you are new in school, Isabel. It's hard to make new friends." Sometimes Mom is a mind reader.

  "But you have to start somewhere. Invite some girls. When you get to know them better, you'll feel more comfortable. This will be an ice breaker."

  I could just picture it. I would invite this giant group of girls, and then wait for them to arrive, popcorn bags in hand. And they wouldn't show up. One person can eat only so much popcorn, you know.

  "Let me think about it."

  Mom let me off the hook, then, and I went to my room. How could an idea sound so good and so bad at the same time?

  I lay in my bed for a long time that night, thinking before I went to sleep. I had the blue bottle under my pillow, safely. I always kept it with me, though I hadn't thought or needed to use it for several days. I had been busy with Danny, and Mrs. Clancy, and Mom, and homework. Even the hours at school had gone by quickly. Sometimes I talked to Elizabeth, and we sat together at lunch almost every day.

  I really liked being a tutor in math, and Mrs. Perkins said I was very good at it. After a day or two, I wasn't tutoring Brenda the Brainiac. She was back to her 100% papers, but she was a little more humble.

  Elizabeth was learning a lot, I could tell. She was passing all her quizzes now (without my invisible help with decimals), and was starting to smile in class. Mrs. Perkins asked me to tutor George, too, and that was working out well. George said I was the best teacher he ever had. I have to admit it made me proud.

  I think the truth is simple though. I know exactly how it feels to look at a math test and think that it's written in a different language. I know how your brain panics and shuts down. I know how people can laugh at you, even when you try your best. I know how you can get behind, and feel like you could never catch up in a million years.

  But I caught up, so I tell them that they can, too. And they listen. They know that I know what I'm talking about, that I'm telling the truth.

  I have gotten enough courage to be a good tutor. I wish I had enough courage to invite girls to a sleep over, though. I finally fell asleep, thinking about that, and Gram was in my dreams.

  In my dream, I got a chance to say goodbye to her. I dreamed that she could tell me those last things that you would tell to someone if you knew you were never going to see them again. That was a most excellent dream.

  Chapter 12

  The idea of having a sleepover party was really haunting me. I confided the idea to Elizabeth at lunchtime, mostly just to see if she would laugh.

  "Wow!" she said, practically spitting her cheese crackers. "That would be really fun. Could I help pick the movies?"

  I was amazed. "You mean, you'd come?"

  I got a blank look back. Then she looked hurt. "You mean, you're telling me this, but you're not going to invite me? Golly, Isabel, that's about the meanest thing I've ever heard."

  She started to get up from the table, and I felt instantly bad.

  "No!" Grabbing her arm to get her to sit down, I blurted out the whole problem. "Of course you're invited. You're my best friend. It's just that I don't think that anyone else would come.”

  "Say it again. The best friend part."

  I could feel my face turning red. I just wasn't good at these things. "I said you're my be
st friend. My favorite friend. Actually, you're my only friend."

  "I never had a best friend before." She looked very shy all of a sudden, keeping her eyes looking down at the table.

  It was hard to believe that. I mean, Elizabeth is a little on the quiet side, but basically she's great. I felt honored that she was agreeing to be my best friend.

  We shook on it, which I guess made it official. Then the bell rang, and lunch was over. She said she'd think about the party idea.

  I felt as if a giant, humongous load had been lifted from my shoulders, now that Elizabeth was thinking about my dilemma, too. This was probably what Gram meant when she said, "Two heads are better than one."

  All I know for sure is that I felt very happy that day. I had a best friend, a birthday coming up, and a sleepover party--maybe.

  That night I got my first phone call. To be truthful, it was not EXACTLY my first call. I used to get calls from Gram, and I still get occasional calls from Aunt Cindy, and of course, Mom calls me. Sometimes she has to stay late at work at the hospital, like if there is an emergency or something. She always calls, so I don't worry.

  But this phone call was a personal call. It was a friend call. It was Elizabeth. We had exchanged phone numbers a few days before, but neither of us had had the courage to dial. Until now.

  “Hi, Isabel! This is Elizabeth. I hope I dialed the right number."

  Of course, this was a dumb thing to say, since I had already answered the phone. If she had dialed the wrong number, she would have been talking to some stranger. But I knew she was nervous, and I knew that I was absolutely THRILLED to get a call, so I didn't make a big deal.

  We talked about homework (done) and Milton (aggravating), and then about the party. Elizabeth thought I should go ahead and plan it.

  "People will come, Isabel. Everyone likes you."

  This came as quite a surprise.

  "Everyone likes me? Is that true?"

  "Well, except Milton. But he doesn't like anybody, and besides, he's the last person you’d be inviting to a sleepover, right?" Elizabeth can be very funny when she tries.

  I told her I was still thinking about the party.

  Mom took me to the mall to get my birthday presents, even though my birthday was still two days away. The new jeans were great, and the shirt was really cool. I wore them to school the next day.

  "Hey, Isabel," yelled Claire from across the room first thing in the morning.

  I hadn't even put my lunch bag away.

  "Let me see your outfit. She looked me up and down.

  I felt like a clothes mannequin in a department store.

  "Cool," she announced, in her Claire voice. "Definitely cool."

  I felt very good at that moment. You can live without Claire's stamp of approval, but it sure feels good to be accepted. I think it went to my head.

  Claire and her buddies were still standing near me, talking about color, and style and comparing prices. I was half listening. Elizabeth had come in and came up behind me.

  "Did you decide? Are you having the party?"

  Now Elizabeth has a pretty quiet voice, but it was one of those moments in time where everyone gets silent at once, and then the words you thought you were whispering come out like a megaphone.

  "Are you having the party?" It seemed to echo around the room. I froze.

  "Party? Party? Isabel are you having a party?" Claire piped up. She didn't like to be left out of anything.

  "Me? A party?" Here was my stall tactic again. My brain was working fast. Go for it, a little voice inside of me said.

  "Well, actually yes." I was amazed at how calm and charming I sounded, like I did this every day. My guts were like mush on the inside, but I was hiding it well. The whole class was silent now, listening to our conversation in the back of the room.

  "On Friday night," I said smoothly. "A sleepover. Everyone can arrive at 7, and get picked up Saturday morning at 10. But you have to bring a sleeping bag. It's for my birthday."

  Elizabeth was beaming with pride. I felt great. I had found all of this courage, and now I was having a party.

  Claire cleared her throat. "Uh, Isabel. Who is invited?"

  I looked up, and suddenly realized the whole class was watching. My heart was hammering. It was like being on the stage. They were all looking at me.

  There were 30 sets of eyes, half of them were girls. They all looked hopeful. All of a sudden, I felt a sense of power.

  "Everyone!" I said gleefully, watching the happy faces. "At least, all the girls! No boys allowed at a sleepover," I quipped.

  The girls were delighted, all jabbering suddenly about what to wear, what movies to watch, and what presents to bring.

  Presents!

  "Golly, Isabel," said Mary as we moved to our seats to begin the day. "All these girls. Your mom must be wonderful to let you have such a giant party."

  I was still smiling as I sat down, but my heart was hammering again. Mom had said a party, not an invasion of the total 6th grade population. First I was wondering if anyone would want to come at all, and now I was wondering where on earth we were going to put them.

  But it was so exciting, I was determined to figure it out. I was glad I got home earlier than Mom after school. First I would scrub the kitchen floor, then do a little vacuum magic, just to soften her up. I prayed she'd understand. I prayed we'd have enough popcorn. I prayed that Friday night would hurry up and come. Because even though I was worried, I hadn't been so excited since before Gram had died.

  Chapter 13

  I scrubbed. I vacuumed. I dusted. I even picked a bouquet of mums from the back yard, and put them in a clay vase on the kitchen table. The bouquet looked bright and cheerful, with orange and yellow flowers surrounded by dark green leaves.

  Then I sat on the porch, and waited for Mom to come home. She was right on time, which was a good thing. I was very excited, and that makes waiting very hard.

  "Hi, Mom!" I called. I jumped off the porch and helped to carry a bag of groceries from the market. She had stopped on the way home.

  "Dinner will be ready soon. We're having chicken.

  Usually, at this point, it would not be unusual for me to complain. Sometimes we eat so much chicken that I'm sure I'm going to sprout feathers and a beak any minute. Mom says it's healthy and inexpensive. I say it's boring. But she knows about a hundred ways to cook it, and it's really not too bad. I just like to complain, but not tonight. Tonight I want Mom to be in a very, very good mood.

  She walked into the kitchen and looked around. She whistled a long, low note. "Wow, Isabel. You've outdone yourself. It looks great."

  Mom touched the flowers. "Pretty." She noticed the vacuum marks in the hall, and followed them to the living room. "Hmmmm," she said. Her gaze went to the “dust free” tables.

  Her eyebrows were furrowed, giving her that “thinking” look. She knew something was up. They may call me "Nancy Drew", but I get it from Mom. She's the original sleuth.

  "Uh oh, Isabel. What's going on here? It looks beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. But I have a feeling you have a plan here. Come on, spill the beans.."

  Mom knows that I'm a truth freak. I took a deep breath, and then I blurted it out.

  "Oh, Mom! I started talking about the party in school, and I thought no one would even want to come because they never even talk to me. But then Elizabeth thought it was a great idea and every body else was listening and they all wanted to come and they wanted to know who was invited. I didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings and so I said they were ALL invited. All of them. The whole class. But not the boys. But all the girls."

  When I ran out of words, I took a deep breath. I knew my face was probably red, and my voice definitely sounded wobbly, but I said what I had done, and then waited for Mom to kill me.

  But she didn't. Mom started to laugh. I thought she had gone as crazy as a loon.

  "Mom?" I said after a minute, and she still hadn't let up.

  Then she dried her eyes, and took
a deep breath. "Oh, Isabel. You are so priceless." She put her arms around me, and went on. "It's fine. It's fine. This is a big house. We can fit everybody, even if it's a little hectic. It'll be great to meet the girls in your class. I'm sorry I laughed. When I saw all this work you had done, I thought something horrible had happened, like you had thrown a ball through somebody's car window, or you had done something bad at school and had detention."

  "I've NEVER had detention," I said indignantly. "Only Milton gets detention.”

  "Well, I'm sorry. But I'm really happy that you're having a party. It's going to be wonderful.”

  Mom can really surprise you sometimes. She didn't mind me having a giant party at all! I looked around at the clean carpets, the sparkling kitchen floor.

  "Boy," I said, thinking out loud. "I did all this work for nothing."

  "Nonsense." said Mom, starting to fling the chicken for dinner. "You did it because you are such a great kid."

  Like I said, Mom can really surprise you sometimes.

  It seemed like years until Friday arrived, but it really was only a few days. We had cleaned the house. We had bought about a zillion cans of soda, all different kinds. Mom had ordered some giant pizzas to be delivered at 9PM. We pushed the furniture against the wall in the living room, which was the biggest room in the house.

  “You can hang out in your room, if you want, then everybody can sleep in the living room. That's the only place there's room for everybody."

  Mom had thought of everything.

  On Friday, after school, Mom and I made batch after batch of pop corn. She put it into clear plastic bags so it would be ready. We got a whole selection of DVD’s, so we could have a choice of what to watch. I was so excited I could hardly stand it. I took a shower, and brushed my hair really well. I put on my new jeans and shirt. And then it was party time.

  Elizabeth was the first one to arrive, with a sleeping bag under one arm and a present under the other. A present!

  "How about if we stack the presents here," she said, standing by the fireplace.