Imaginary Enemy

by Julie Gonzalez

  “Dry your tears,” I commanded. “Don’t waste your energy on him. No. What we’ll do is make him pay.”

  “Jane, I can’t do that. I’d never say something rude in front of everyone.”

  “There are other ways,” I said. “Leave it to me.”

  Emma and I walked down the hall. “Wow, your room’s really purple,” she said, gaping in the doorway.

  “Yeah. My little sister and I share a room. She chose the color,” I lied. I tossed my backpack onto my bed, causing dust flecks to float in the air above my comforter—another bad choice. It looked like a box of fluorescent crayons had exploded in a neon nuclear war.

  “It’s pretty wild,” Emma said diplomatically.

  “I’m repainting it soon. I haven’t yet decided what color. Got any suggestions?”

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Red.”

  “That could be just as bad as purple,” she said, falling onto my bed.

  “Well, tomorrow’s the big day,” I said, changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure we should do it, Jane.”

  “Emma, please. We agreed.” I spread an old sheet on the floor and placed a box of markers beside it. “Come on. You’re a better artist than I am.” So we started working, which set our plan into action.

  The next day, we didn’t raise the flag. We raised a less-than-flattering portrait of Bryan Latham drawn in marker on that old sheet. In case anyone was uncertain as to who the portrait represented, his name was written on it in bold black letters.

  Mr. Freeman fired us from our daily flag-raising duties, telling us we were lucky he was too tolerant to suspend us. He made us apologize to Bryan, which I did with my fingers crossed behind my back.

  “It was worth it,” I told Emma. “We only had six more days of that job anyhow.”

  “I dunno, Jane. My parents are so angry and humiliated.”

  “They’ll get over it. Mine always do.”

  “Why are you all sitting here on such a beautiful day when you could be out fishing?” Dad asked. It was the third day of spring break, and Luke, Zander, and I were zoned out in front of Godzilla vs. Megalon. We had a collection of monster movies and never tired of them.

  “We’re having a Godzilla marathon today,” said Zander, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

  “No, you’re not. You’re all going fishing with me.”

  “Fishing?” asked Luke.

  “Yes, on my boat.”

  Luke and Zander jumped up, totally blocking my view of Megalon, who was shooting a bolt of lightning at Godzilla from the single horn on his head. “You got a boat?” Luke exclaimed.

  “The Annika Elise. When I introduced you to her, I said she’d one day be mine. Now she is.”

  “When did you do this?” Luke asked.

  “Just signed the papers. Well, what are you waiting for? Go get your gear. And don’t forget hats and sunscreen.”

  “Man, this is awesome,” called Luke as we climbed aboard. He poked his head into the cabin. “Nice. Hey, Zander, check out the fridge.”

  “It has a refrigerator?” Zander asked as he pushed Luke aside.

  “And a stove. Like a real kitchen,” I said.

  “Galley,” corrected Dad.

  “Huh?” asked Zander.

  “Galley. On a boat it’s called a galley,” Dad explained.

  “Hey, look. Here’s the bathroom,” said Zander after opening a small door.

  “Head,” said Dad.

  “What?” I was puzzled.

  “On a boat you call it a head, not a bathroom,” Dad said.

  “So that’s what you’re talking about when you tell Jane to use her head?” Zander said with a sneer.

  “Not usually,” said Dad, but I don’t think Zander and Luke heard him because they were laughing so loudly. Dad turned the key. “Just listen to that engine.”

  “Can I drive?” asked Zander.

  “After we get out in open water,” said Dad. He was beaming like his sweetest dream had come true. “By the end of the summer, all of you are going to know how to operate this vessel.”

  “Even Jane?” asked Zander.

  “Of course.”

  “You’d trust her with your boat?”

  I kicked Zander’s ankle. “Why don’t you tie the anchor around your neck and go for a swim, squab,” I suggested.

  Betrayal

  “What’s the matter?” I asked Emma, who was spending the night at my house. She was obviously upset about something.

  “I blew my project for Mr. Boucher. Got a B. Knew I should’ve spent more time on the graphics.”

  “A B? You’re complaining about a B? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Stuff like that eats at me.”

  “Geez, people would celebrate if I got a B. I haven’t even turned mine in yet. He’s giving me until Monday.”

  “I don’t see how you can be so relaxed about it. I’d be freaking. I wish I was more like you.”

  “Me? No one wants to be like me.”

  “Things don’t bother you. You laugh. You don’t care.”

  I looked out the window across the room. “I don’t always laugh,” I admitted. “Or maybe I do, but I don’t always want to. I just don’t know what else to do. What’s the alternative? Tears? Tears suck.”

  Emma grinned. “See. That’s what I mean. You’re invulnerable.”

  “Oh Emma, please. I’m way more vulnerable than you are.”

  She sighed and fell onto Carmella’s bed. “I don’t think so, Jane. Just more up-front.”

  Whatever. I pressed the Play button on my CD player. “This is my favorite song. Maybe they’ll play it at the dance tonight.”

  What Sharp and Chord were doing at Kingston Middle School’s dance I couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t like they went to our school or anything. And they looked freaky. Sharp’s hair was crazier that ever, like a million corkscrews had burst from his brain. The faded Sex Pistols T-shirt he wore was so ancient it must have been left over from Elliot’s early years. And the mailman pants with the stripe down each leg were totally geeky. Chord’s fashion statement consisted of nothing but a pair of huge ragged overalls sheared off just below the knees and a pair of Top-Siders.

  Chord saw me from across the gym and headed my way. “Howdy there, neighbor Jane,” he said, the twang in his voice underlining his farm-boy attire. He threw his arm around my shoulders.

  I smiled. My face felt like it was going to crack. “Chord,” I muttered, twisting away from him. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”

  Sharp was now standing there. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I answered flatly. I was certain everyone was wondering who they were and what they were doing hanging around with me. “Why are you two here? You don’t go to this school.”

  “But I did last year, and my friends wanted me to come,” explained Chord. “Brought my baby brother with me.” He put Sharp in a headlock and rubbed his head. Sharp laughed and pushed him away.

  “Well, see ya,” I said, turning to quickly join my friends.

  “So who are those weird guys?” asked Madison.

  “Weird is right. They’re my neighbors. The whole family’s strange.” I glanced up and realized my voice had carried. Sharp met my eyes. I looked away.

  And then he was standing beside me. “I don’t know what kind of head trip you’re on,” Sharp whispered in my ear, “but I sure don’t want a ticket.” He thumped my shoulder and walked away.

  After that, the dance lost all glamour and dazzle. It just felt noisy and crowded. I loved the deMichael family and regretted what I’d said. But I was afraid of what my school friends would think if I hung with them.

  Cassidy

  Luke started seeing a girl named Cassidy who dressed like a hippie. She got on my nerves from the get-go, laughing at every cheesy thing Zander said, acting like my mother was the empress Josephine, and shamelessly sucking up to Carmella by remarking on how cute and
smart she was. Luke spent so much time with Cassidy that we rarely saw him without her hanging on his arm. He brought her to the house all the time. Mom and Dad thought that was really nice. But I didn’t want her around. It was irrational: I was jealous. Maybe I felt displaced. Luke and I had always shared a special bond, and I felt she got in the way of it. Had stolen it, even.

  “Since when do you play soccer?” Chord asked.

  “I don’t. This is my Halloween costume. I’m a soccer player.”

  “Creative. Daring. Risky. You’re really going out on a limb,” he said sarcastically.

  “Funny, Chord,” I replied. “I told Carmella and Harmony I’d take them trick-or-treating. Want to come with us?”

  “Sharp and I are going to a party,” said Chord.

  “I’ll go with you,” said Sharp, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll go to the party after. Let me get suited up.”

  “What in the world are you?” I asked when Sharp reappeared a few minutes later.

  “Blue.”

  “Blue?”

  “My favorite color. It’s one of the primaries, you know.” His hair was sprayed an electrifying cobalt and his face, neck, arms, torso, and hands were painted to match. He was only wearing jeans and sneakers.

  “Well, you’re definitely blue,” I said.

  He grinned. “Jazz and Zander are coming, too, okay?”

  “Fine. The more, the merrier,” I answered.

  “We’re escaped convicts,” Jazz announced when he and Zander appeared in tattered stripes with handcuffs dangling from their wrists and charcoal smears on their faces.

  Carmella, a medieval princess, and Harmony, who said she was Charles Darwin but could’ve been any bearded man in a tweed jacket, were dancing around the front yard. “Come on. Let’s go,” begged Carmella.

  “If you don’t hurry all the good candy will be gone,” whined Harmony.

  We made the rounds through the neighborhood, laughing and eating candy. As we turned the corner to our block, I asked Sharp, “Is that what you’re wearing to the party?”

  “Party?”

  “With Chord?”

  “He’s already gone.” He shrugged. “I decided to ditch. I’ll just hang out here.”

  “What’d Chord go as?” asked Zander.

  “A soccer player,” said Sharp.

  “Ugh!” I groaned, remembering Chord mocking my costume.

  Emma, Madison, and I rounded the corner laughing and planning our sleepover. “Mom bought stuff so we can make cookies-and-cream milk shakes,” I told them.

  “Yum,” said Emma.

  “We should add some peanut butter,” I suggested.

  “Peanut butter? Gross. That sounds disgusting,” protested Madison.

  “I bet it’d be good,” Emma said. “We should try it.”

  “Yeah. At least it’d be different,” I said as we approached my house. Zander, Jazz, and Sharp were standing in the driveway attempting to juggle tennis balls but mostly just looking like fools.

  “I brought a bag of chips and Samantha’s bringing a big box of Nerds,” said Madison.

  “Speaking of nerds,” I said loudly, gesturing toward the boys. Sharp was now balancing a tennis ball on his nose, while Jazz and Zander were slamming balls to the cement to see whose could bounce the highest. “Chase never acts dorky like that.”

  I was referring to Chase McClusky, the coolest guy in my class. I measured all other boys against Chase. None ever came close. He was handsome, slick, and very popular. I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.

  “Chase never acts dorky like that,” squawked Zander in a high-pitched voice. The three boys laughed. Sharp met my eyes, flipped a tennis ball into the air, caught it, and very deliberately fired it at me. “Princess Jane strikes again,” he said.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I told my friends as I deflected the incoming missile.

  Cassidy stood in the doorway wearing an embroidered denim skirt, a tunic top, and a lace shawl. Red and yellow ribbons were braided into her hair. “Luke’s not here,” I told her.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who knows,” I responded, although I knew he was at work at the marina, where he was Dad’s right-hand man after school and on weekends. “Was he expecting you?”

  “Actually, no, but there’s an opening at an art show downtown I was hoping we could go to. My brother’s best friend has his sculptures on display. He makes fabulous creations from glass and aluminum.”

  “Oh,” I said disinterestedly.

  “You could go with me,” she suggested. “It’ll be fun. They’ll be serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and there’s a band.”

  My brain froze. I could think of no excuse. “Sure, I guess.” I grabbed my jacket and borrowed a few bucks from Zander in case I needed money.

  Cassidy knew most of the people at the opening. I felt as out of place there as Sharp and Chord had looked at the Kingston Middle dance. People talked about art and music I had never heard of. When I mentioned my favorite pop star, Cassidy quickly changed the subject.

  By the time she brought me home, I could grudgingly see why Luke was attracted to her. She was captivating and quick witted. Her smile had a magnetic quality; her eyes were a warm liquid brown.

  I jumped out of her car at the curb. “Thanks, Cassidy. I had a good time.”

  “Me too, Jane. We should hang out more often.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, not really believing she’d want to spend time with me.

  But once again, I was proved wrong. Cassidy started dragging me along when she ran errands for her mother or shopped for a new pair of shoes. She treated Carmella and me to the latest animated movies, saying, “Luke didn’t want to go—says he doesn’t like cartoons.”

  Cassidy was easy to talk to, and I came to share my daily victories and defeats with her—things that happened at school that I didn’t discuss with Emma or my other friends if they were in any way peripherally involved. Cassidy, as a neutral party, listened and gave feedback, sympathizing at times, attempting to make me consider another viewpoint at others.

  Luke was pleased that Cassidy and I had developed a friendship. He was totally fascinated with her, and expected the rest of the world to love her as much as he did. Reluctantly, I, too, grew to like her, though not with the intensity Luke felt. She became a sort of surrogate big sister, something I’d never had.

  Barbie and the Little Neighbor Boys

  “Let’s go see what the deMichaels are doing,” Zander said to me one lazy, rainy Saturday midway through seventh grade.

  “You can go. I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Those boys are boring.”

  “No, they’re not. They’re fun.”

  “They don’t even go to real school. They’re out of touch. Like you.”

  “No, I’m not. And how could Elliot and Peggy have out-of-touch kids? You’re a snob.”

  “I’m too grown up to be playing with the little neighbor boys,” I said in a bored voice.

  “Oh yeah, you’re so grown up,” Zander said sarcastically. Seconds later, I heard the door slam.

  I had nothing to do. Carmella was off somewhere with Harmony, and Luke was at work. Mom was helping Dad with the marina’s budget, which meant they weren’t in the mood to be disturbed. There wasn’t anything worth watching on TV. Emma had joined a traveling soccer team and was in Baton Rouge for the weekend, and Madison and Samantha were at the dress rehearsal for their dance recital. So I made a break for the deMichaels’ through the rain.

  When Chord opened the door and Zander saw me standing there with my hair dripping, he said, “Thought you were too grown up to play with the little neighbor boys.” They all laughed, so I knew that my brother, the traitor, had spilled the beans about what I’d said to him.

  “Most of the ‘little neighbor boys’ are bigger than you, swampbreath,” said Chord, giving me a scathing glare.

  “And we don’t want to play Barbie dolls anyway,” said Sharp as he
arranged cards in his hand.

  “I’m not here to play with you losers,” I lied shamelessly. “Mom sent me to tell you to come home, Zander. You need to clean your room.” Then I turned around and haughtily marched down the steps and back across the yard in the rain. I stomped to my room and yanked my Bubba folder out of my backpack.

  Dear Bubba,

  Those boys treat me like I’m invisible. Well, I’m not. I can see myself in the mirror. This whole thing has me staring at my hand—holding it up to the light and turning it just to make sure I’m really here. The silhouettes of my bones show through my flesh, so I know

  I exist.

  When I was little, I saw a cartoon on Tom and Jerry where a little duckling used vanishing cream to become invisible. Bubba, what I need is visibility cream. Can you hook me up with some of that? I’ll share it with you if you want.

  Soggy, lonely, and bored,

  Gabriel

  P.S. Just for your information, I don’t play with Barbie dolls.

  I threw myself on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The Gothosaurs Aunt Jane had sent me still sat on the shelf over my bed. I rearranged them so that T. rex looked like he was about to take a bite out of Brontosaurus’s neck and Stegosaurus and Triceratops were butting heads. When I rolled off my bed, my feet landed in the large bin Carmella stored her Barbie dolls and their accessories in. I heard the snap, crackle, and pop of breaking plastic as my weight crushed the bright pink Barbie sports car Carmella was so proud of. One of the wheels popped off and flew from the bin, smacking me in the forehead.

  Suddenly, I was inspired. I rummaged through my backpack until I found the twenty-four-color set of Sharpie Ultra Fine Point Permanent Markers I’d gotten for my birthday. In the closet, I miraculously unearthed the sewing kit Aunt Jane had given me when I was eight. I swiped a tube of superglue from the kitchen drawer, along with an odd assortment of screws, washers, nails, thumbtacks, string, electrical tape, and the like.