The Invisible Boy

by Alyssa Hollingsworth

  “How are you doing?” I watch the way he winces as he walks to the path.

  “Fine,” he says. “Just sore.”

  I nod. “Invisibility activated again?”

  He gives me a weak salute. “All set.”

  We go on, and soon cross a bridge into Old Town. The brick town houses are golden and glowing in the misty rain. The normally busy streets are strangely quiet. When we pass a bank, the old-fashioned clock tower says 3:10. My eyelids get heavy, as if just knowing the time has made sleepiness catch up with me.

  “We should go a block over,” I tell Eli, rubbing my knuckle against my eye. “The main road cuts right through Alexandria, and there are bound to be cars.”

  “Okay.”

  I take us down a back street to South Saint Asaph. The sidewalk is paved with bricks and covered in random bumps and dips from tree roots. I slow to a crawl to keep from getting thrown off my bike. But it’s better to be here than in the middle of the road, I figure, because at least the parallel parked cars give us some cover.

  So far, though, the city sleeps.

  Tree branches loom above us, and the town houses cluster together on both sides. Lanterns shine by people’s front doors—some of them with lightbulbs, but others with real flames. It’s like we’ve fallen back in time.

  In the shadowy alleys and around closed shops, men lurk, sleeping. Homeless. I try to pedal extra quietly as we pass.

  About halfway through the town, we come to a cobblestone cross street—one with fist-sized rocks instead of normal smooth asphalt. I dismount at the edge.

  “It will be easier to walk here,” I explain to Eli.

  He mimics me. My feet slip and slide on the wet stones. Wonder Dog wobbles a bit herself, bumping into me. On the far side of the street, a man lies very still on top of a sleeping bag, with something small and fluffy curled against him. My heart beats faster. Off our bikes, we’re easier to catch.

  Eli suddenly pitches into me. We fall in a heap of kids, dog, and bicycles. My elbow collides with the sharp edge of a pedal and I yelp. Eli lands, more on the hard stones than the bikes, but he only grunts. Wonder Dog whimpers.

  “Ouch,” I whisper, easing myself up.

  “You kids okay?”

  I jump and nearly send myself sprawling again. The homeless guy is hurrying toward us. A scream pushes up in my throat and freezes there.

  He picks up my bike. Wonder Dog keeps her distance, eyeing the stranger but not barking like she normally would. The homeless man takes Eli’s arm to lift him to his feet. Eli gasps and clenches his jaw. The guy frowns.

  “You hurt, son?” he asks, leaning to get a better look at Eli.

  “I’m fine,” Eli says a bit tonelessly.

  I bite my lip.

  The homeless man pushes up Eli’s hoodie sleeve and moves his arm to catch some of the streetlight. Welts shine all the way from Eli’s wrist to his elbow, glistening and new.

  “You didn’t tell me—” I start to say, hoarsely.

  Eli watches the homeless man, but he doesn’t jerk away.

  “How’s your other arm?” the man asks.

  “She didn’t get to my left.”

  “I have some first aid supplies,” the man says to no one in particular. “We should clean this up.”

  He releases Eli and starts to walk away. This is our chance to escape. But instead of running, Eli follows him to his sleeping bag area. I wheel both our bikes over. The homeless man rummages in his stuff with one hand, then pulls out a small, slim red box.

  A familiar red box.

  When he turns around, I look again at the man’s face and I get my first clear view of him. Kind amber eyes smile back at me. I look at the fluffy white thing on his sleeping bag. The dog—Girl—whose nails I helped trim. She eyes Wonder Dog warily but doesn’t get up from her tightly curled spot.

  This is the man I met outside Synergy, while Mom did her interview.

  He nods, like he sees I’ve finally recognized him, and shifts his attention back to Eli. “I don’t know a whole lot,” he mutters to himself, “but I know this.”

  Eli’s eyes dart up to the veteran’s. Then he asks, “What’s your name?”

  “Jim. Vet Jim.” He opens the kit and fiddles around. I keep ahold of both our bikes, watching closely. Vet Jim puts the kit on the trunk of a nearby car and rips open some slim packages. The trees lean over us, holding off the rain.

  “This will sting,” he warns Eli. “But that’s ’cause it’s doing its job.”

  When he presses the small square wipes against the wounds, Eli sucks in a breath and holds it. But otherwise, he doesn’t make a sound. Vet Jim works fast, flying through several wipes and then applying something shiny and wet over the welts. He presses on Band-Aids until Eli’s arm is pretty much covered in them. All this time, he doesn’t ask us any questions.

  After the last Band-Aid is secure, Vet Jim pulls Eli’s sleeve back down to his wrist. “Those should be changed in a few hours,” he says. “Watch for fever or heat around the wounds. That could be a sign of infection. Do not pick at the scabs, even if they itch. If they turn a strange color or seem to be getting worse, call my office and make an appointment.”

  Eli glances from me to Vet Jim. “Um. Okay.”

  Vet Jim nods and snaps the first aid kit closed. Then he puts it next to his sleeping bag and sits down beside Girl, evidently ready to go back to bed.

  I lean my bike against the nearby car and reach into my backpack. I set two of the unopened water bottles next to him on the ground.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Thank you for your service,” he murmurs, but I don’t think he’s talking to me.

  I let Eli take Dad’s bike, and we walk around Vet Jim’s area until we’re on the sidewalk again. We both mount and start off without saying anything. I look back halfway down the block. Vet Jim is sipping the water, one hand resting on his dog.

  Even though our progress is slow, and even with our unplanned stop, we pass through Old Town sooner than I expected. Then it’s onto East Abingdon Drive, which at least keeps us separated from the main road. Here, we don’t need to duck for cover when the occasional headlight comes down the parkway. So far, none have been perfect-circle shaped.

  The wind picks up, stabbing through my damp clothes. I shiver. The raindrops grow, big and fast. Far away, I think I hear thunder—or maybe a metro train.

  Eli breathes hard behind me, in little pant-gasps. Wonder Dog huffs a little every few steps. My muscles hurt. I know we need to rest again. Soon.

  The trail veers farther from the road as we near Ronald Reagan International Airport. The rain lashes at us now, and I almost can’t see, even though bright lights surround the airport. We’re about halfway to Washington, DC. I think. I don’t have the heart to tell Eli we still have halfway to go. I’m not even sure I can make it the rest of the way.

  Was it only this morning that Aunt Lexie was driving me down the parkway? Just twelve hours ago when I was at the Newseum with her and James?

  I wonder how their date went.

  “Think you could get us some better weather?” Eli calls over the rain.

  I don’t understand him the first time. “What?”

  “Lightning Lane.” I hear a smile in his voice. “Sounds like you should have some weather powers, along with stopping time.”

  I snort. “You’re the one who can fly. Why don’t you just pop us over to DC?”

  “Only if you want the government to shoot us down.” He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water. “Wi-Fi Man was right, even my invisibility won’t help with that.”

  “Hmm.”

  Soon we’re in Gravelly Point Park, and I slow, watching for a gap between the trees. When it comes, there’s Washington, DC. The rain pauses, like a curtain drawn back, and the Washington Monument shines bright white against the velvety sky and the Jefferson Memorial glows at the Potomac’s edge.

  Without stopping, I point. “Look, Eli!”

&nb
sp; Eli, beside me, lifts his head. He swerves, almost hitting Wonder Dog, and I yank on my brakes. He jerks in the other direction, over some wet leaves, and his bike skids sideways. The next thing I know, he’s crumpled on the ground.

  “Eli!” I hop off my bike, throw down the kickstand so it won’t fall on Wonder, and hurry to him. “Are you okay?”

  He slowly sits up, wincing. “Y-yeah.”

  But his nice jeans have ripped at the knee, and the skin beneath looks torn. I carefully pry away the edges of the fabric, and something sticky and warm coats my fingers. Bile rises in my throat. Straightening, I turn to the bike. It’s fallen on its side, one wheel spinning.

  The other wheel is bent and still.

  Eli sees it, too. He tries to get to his feet, but I have to grab his arm and help.

  The rain starts again.

  “That bike’s totaled,” I whisper, my body heavy.

  “I can walk,” he says breathlessly. “We can keep going, right? We have to get to DC. I have to find my mom.”

  I look back across the Potomac, to the distant Washington Monument now cloaked in a blurry downpour. It looked so close a few minutes ago, but now it seems like it’s never been farther away.

  I tighten my hand on Eli’s arm. “Yes. We walk.”

  Chapter 21

  A NEW DAY IN WASHINGTON

  By the time we make it to Arlington Memorial Bridge, Eli has stopped limping, but he stumbles with every other step. I keep one hand on his uninjured left arm and one on my bike’s handlebars. We left Dad’s bike on the trail—nothing we could do about it—but I want to keep mine. Partially so Wonder Dog still has something to be tied to. Partially because, if worse came to worst, I could put Eli on my bike and send him ahead. Like, if Candace caught us or something.

  We stop under the bridge, right near the Potomac. Over our heads, cars hum across the water. It seems like there are more out now, but I can’t tell if that’s because it’s getting closer to early commute time or if it’s because this road is always busier than the parkway.

  “Break?” I ask, almost too exhausted to speak.

  Eli slumps against the curved bridge wall. He looks more tired than I feel, if that’s possible. Wonder Dog flops down.

  “We can rest for a few minutes,” I say. “This should be safe.”

  He nods and slides to the ground, one arm pressed against his side. I let Wonder off her leash and she scoots over to rest against Eli’s leg. They both close their eyes, and just like that they’re out. Practically snoring.

  I sit on the other side of Wonder and rest my hand on her back. The gentle rhythm of her breathing makes me sleepy. But I try to push that away and concentrate on our next hurdle: the bridge.

  Bikers use the sidewalk on the bridge when they cross. But this is one place we’ll have absolutely no cover. We won’t be able to duck behind something or jump off the road—not unless we dive over the guardrails into the river.

  I run my hand down Wonder’s back. Once we’re across the bridge, there’s the teeny tiny problem of where in the huge city we’re going to locate Eli’s mom’s town house. It would be easier to find Aunt Lexie’s office. I don’t know exactly where that is, but I know it’s in the area of the original Smithsonian building. Though I’m not sure what the company is called …

  I wish I had my phone. Then I could fix all of this in one conversation with my aunt.

  The humming of the highway grows muffled and a layer of wool seems to separate me from the world. Like a phantom, half dream, I imagine Kenny standing in front of me. He holds out his Superman window stickers. You like superheroes, right?

  I bolt up. My neck pinches, as if I’ve been asleep for a while. But my brain clears. I have it—I know how to cross the Potomac and get Eli to safety. I’m just … not so sure how Eli’s going to take the suggestion.

  “Ah!” I rub my eyes and pull myself to my feet. My legs creak in complaint. Wonder huffs a sigh and stands. I nudge Eli’s foot. “We have to keep going, Eli. Come on.”

  He groans. “I don’t know what I have left, Lightning Lane.”

  “Invisible Boy, you stop that right now.” I put my hands on my hips. When I look past him at the area beyond our shelter, the rain has all but stopped. “Look, I even made the weather nice for you. So up—up!”

  He mutters, but takes my hand when I offer it. I help set him upright. But as he straightens, he lets out a hiss and presses his arm to his side.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure.” Eli turns to catch more light from the street. Then he rolls the hoodie and his T-shirt above his ribs. I lean over to get a look, too.

  He’s thinner than I thought, his bones pressing against skin like they’re trying to get free. But that’s not the worst of it. An angry bruise has formed from about his armpit down toward his waistband. It lumps up in places, and the color blends from dark to splotches of near black.

  “Holy cow,” I whisper.

  Eli sighs and covers it again. “It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

  I stare at him. I wish he had let Vet Jim take a look at it—but a first aid kit probably wouldn’t do much good here.

  Determination settles in the pit of my stomach. It makes absolutely no sense to launch a citywide search for Eli’s mom when he is this injured. I hook Wonder Dog’s leash onto my bike and lead the way out from under the bridge onto the street. Instead of turning toward the Lincoln Memorial and DC, I push through one of the tall hedges at the side of the road and head toward Arlington.

  “Where are you going?” Eli asks, his face pale. He looks back at the Lincoln Memorial. “DC is that way.”

  “I know, but we need to get some help.”

  Eli’s eyes sharpen. “Help?”

  “Look, Eli—I want to find your mom. And I know you don’t want to tell anyone about this.” I tighten my fingers around the handlebars and take a deep breath. “But we can’t do it alone. We don’t even know where to start. And you’re hurt. Paddle—Wi-Fi Man is nearby. I find him, he can help us find my aunt, and she can help us find your mom.”

  Eli still stands there, arms loose, half turned toward the distant memorial. “I could go to DC now.”

  I see him wondering—almost like his thoughts are mine—whether he’d be able to find the purple town house by himself. Whether he needs me, now that he’s this close.

  “There’s no place to hide over there,” I point out. “If Candace comes, she’d catch us in a heartbeat. I mean, anyone crossing that bridge is going to see two soaking-wet kids and a dog walking suspiciously early in the morning.” I nod toward the bushes. “We need to go this way.”

  “I need to get to my mom, Nadia,” he says. “That’s all that matters.”

  “I know,” I agree. “And I know I promised, so if you say no, I won’t do it. I trust you. I really, really, really honestly truly think this is the only way we’re going to find her.” I lift my chin and look him full in the face. Like always, his gaze lands somewhere around my shoulder. “Can you trust me?”

  Eli shifts his weight, mouth twisted in thought. I hold my breath. My heart beats faster, and I wonder with a sudden ache—can he? Because no one else seems to. Not the police. Not even my parents. And I don’t know if that’s their fault, or mine.

  Then, slowly, Eli lifts his gaze. Meets my eyes directly. “Yes,” he says, so soft I almost don’t hear it. “I’m trying.”

  “Thank you.” I swear to myself then and there, while I’m looking in his eyes, that I’ll prove it to him. That he can trust me. That I can make things right. That I can take the real world and make it better. I lift a branch aside, and at last Eli follows me through the hedge.

  There’s a long silence between us. But my plan keeps me moving, quickly. Very soon people will be on these trails. If we’re caught, there are going to be a lot of questions.

  I trudge onto the new path, rolling my bike beside me. Ahead, skyscrapers sparkle with lights. On our left, the white gravestones of sol
diers gleam in Arlington Cemetery under a predawn glow. They stretch on and on, as far as I can see. We climb a hill, then dip back down, then climb another. Finally, I spot the Iwo Jima Memorial ahead—a statue of a group of men bent over, holding an American flag. I start to scan the area for any apartments, but it’s hard to see with trees everywhere.

  “There.” Eli points to something pale between the leaves.

  We cross through the park. My feet throb and my bones ache. Wonder Dog ambles with her head down and her tail between her legs. Eli lumbers a few steps behind, like a zombie.

  When we emerge from the trees, there’s a big white apartment building right in front of us. And on the second floor, on an otherwise ordinary window, there are stickers. Superman stickers. Kenny.

  I pull Eli with me across the street, then search for something to throw. I find a stick and chuck it at the window. It falls before it gets even halfway there.

  Wonder Dog shoots me an unimpressed look.

  “Are there any pebbles around or something?” I ask no one in particular, examining the ground.

  Eli takes a protein bar out of his hoodie pocket. “Maybe try a chunk of this?”

  I break off a pebble-sized bite and squish it into a circle. Then I throw it at the window. On my second protein-ball attempt, I actually hit the glass. But it takes five more tries before the blinds finally lift.

  A bleary-eyed Kenny peers out the window at us. He blinks. Rubs his face. Looks again. I lift my hand and wave enthusiastically, miming, Come outside!

  He gapes.

  My arms start to get tired. Is he just going to gawk all day?

  But no sooner do I think it than he moves away from the window. For a moment, I worry he’s gone for his dad—or just gone back to bed. Then the front door swings open, and Kenny comes out, dressed in sweatpants and a bright green T-shirt. His dirty-blond hair sticks up in random directions, like he’s been electrocuted.

  “What…?” He’s still staring with eyes the size of baseballs.

  “Eli, can you watch Wonder Dog?” I ask, practically throwing my bike at him and dragging Kenny a few steps away. If Eli’s still thinking about bolting, I don’t want him getting too many weird vibes from Kenny.