by R. L. Stine
“I didn’t do it,” he told her. “The invisible boy did it.”
She sighed. “Weirdo.” She spun away, closing the door behind her.
Eduardo turned to me. He shrugged. “I told her the truth.”
“Who would believe the truth?” I replied.
* * *
During the night, I had a very bold dream. I was onstage in a huge theater, doing a magic act.
I wore Mystical Marvin’s red cape. And sometimes in the dream, I had his crinkly blond hair. I was me and I was Mystical Marvin at the same time.
I did the levitating trick, and the crowd went wild.
Then I did a crazy trick you can only do in a dream. I rode a tiger across the stage and then I made the tiger vanish into thin air.
The audience rose to their feet and gave me a standing ovation.
I had the biggest smile on my face. And it was my face.
Yes, I had a face in the dream. I had eyes and a nose. And hands and arms. I was me. I was back.
Back to normal.
And I took a deep bow as the audience continued to stand and cheer. I wanted to cheer, too. Because I wasn’t invisible anymore. I could see myself and so could everyone else.
I woke with the dream still in my head. I blinked. I could still hear the applause.
I sat straight up, wide awake now. I gazed around Eduardo’s room, and a smile spread over my face for real.
I’m back.
I’m me.
I’m finally back.
I glanced down at my hands. And I let out a groan. My smile drooped. I shoved the quilt down and looked for my feet.
No.
No. No. No.
I pounded my invisible chest with both invisible fists.
I wasn’t back in real life. I was only back in the dream.
I sank onto the pillow. Maybe I’ll NEVER come back! I thought.
What am I going to do?
Natalie had to take Veronica to her kindergarten class early, so Eduardo and I were alone in the kitchen for breakfast.
He poured us big bowls of Frosted Flakes, and we sat across from each other crunching away. “Why are you grinning?” I asked him.
“It looks funny,” he said. “Your spoon looks like it’s floating by itself in midair, and then the cereal just suddenly disappears somewhere, like into a hole.”
“The hole is my mouth,” I said. “I don’t think it’s too funny.”
“That formula should have worn off by now,” Eduardo said. “I had an idea last night.”
I set down my spoon. “An idea?”
“After school,” he said. “Let’s go to the magic store. You know. Abracadabra ’N’ Stuff. The place where we buy all our props and tricks.”
“What will we do there?” I asked.
“That guy Jerome knows all about magic,” Eduardo said. “Maybe he knows about disappearing tricks. Maybe he’ll know about an antidote.”
“Hmmmmm.” I thought about it. It was a long shot. But I was desperate. “Okay,” I said. “Good idea, Eduardo. Let’s do it.”
I raised the glass and took a long drink of orange juice.
Eduardo laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “But it just looks so funny.”
* * *
I didn’t feel like going to school. But I didn’t want to hang around by myself until it was time to go to Abracadabra ’N’ Stuff.
I took my seat in the back row. I left my backpack in my locker. I knew a floating backpack would make everyone upset.
I glimpsed Ari in his seat on the other side of the room. He was slapping knuckles with the kid next to him. Ari had a big grin on his face. Typical.
I saw Melody in the front row. She was reading something on her phone. Eduardo sat two seats down from her. He was just staring straight ahead, waiting for class to begin.
Miss Barlow stepped into the room and perched on the edge of her desk. She was wearing the long skirt and baggy sweater she always wore. She raised her little black notebook and scanned a page.
“Since it’s Class Photo Day, I don’t want to use up time taking the roll,” she said. “Just speak up if you’re not here.”
Funny. A few kids laughed.
She glanced around the room. Her eyes stopped at my empty seat. “Frankie Miller? Are you here?”
I didn’t answer. If I did, it would make everyone crazy.
“Frankie?” she repeated. “Has anyone seen him?”
“He’s here, but he’s invisible,” Ari shouted.
That got a really big laugh.
It was all a big joke to him.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Miss Barlow said. “We’re going outside now for our class photo. The bleachers have been set up. When you get out there, the photographer will tell you how to line up.”
I let out a long sigh. Class Photo Day and I was invisible.
Everyone began streaming out the door. To my surprise, Eduardo appeared in front of me. “Here,” he said. “I brought you this.”
He held up a blue jacket and a Mets cap.
“What’s that for?” I demanded. “It isn’t cold outside.”
“Put them on,” Eduardo said. “At least you’ll be in the photo.”
“Great. A jacket, a cap, and no face,” I muttered.
“But you’ll be there,” Eduardo said. “And when you come back to normal, you’ll think it’s funny. You’ll see the jacket and cap and you’ll laugh.”
“Hope you’re right,” I said. I pulled on the cap and then the Mets jacket. They both disappeared as soon as I put them on.
“Nice try,” I said to Eduardo.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He turned and I followed him out the door.
Ready for the worst Class Photo Day of my life.
Frankie, I told myself, don’t forget to smile.
A bright sun was already high in the sky. Bleachers had been set up on the grass at the side of the school building.
The photographer was a young man in jeans and a red plaid lumberjack jacket. He had a black wool cap pulled down on his head, a stubbly black beard, and a silver ring in one ear. His camera was set up on a tripod facing the bleachers.
“Tall people at the top,” he was shouting. “Only short people on the bottom bleacher.”
“What about invisible people?” I shouted.
No one seemed to hear me. They were all eager to get into their places on the bleachers.
I followed Eduardo. I knew he was heading to the top row.
Why am I doing this? I asked myself. I didn’t have an answer. My feelings were so mixed up.
“First row, everyone sit down,” the photographer was shouting. “Fill in the second row. Everyone squeeze in. Come on, people. Squeeze in tighter. Don’t be shy.”
I edged onto the top row and raised my eyes. “Hey—!”
Somehow, I’d lost Eduardo. I turned and saw him standing on the far end of the second row.
Someone bumped against me. At first, I saw a bright purple polo shirt. Then I raised my eyes and realized I was standing next to Ari. Of course, he didn’t see me.
He edged sideways and bumped me again.
“Watch where you’re going,” I snapped.
His eyes bulged in surprise. “You’re here?”
“Yes, I am,” I said. “I don’t want to miss Class Photo Day.”
He snickered. “This will be the best photo you ever took!”
“How funny are you?” I said. “Not.”
I decided to have some fun. We were all squeezed tight on the top bleacher. I bent my knees and jumped. I landed hard and the whole bench shook.
“Hey! Who did that?” a girl cried.
I saw the guy at the end of the bench almost fall off. He stumbled to the side, bumping the kid next to him.
I jumped again. The bench bobbed down, then up.
Kids screamed in surprise. Their hands flew up as they struggled to keep their balance.
I jumped up and down. “Earthquake!” I shouted.
; Arms flailing, kids tumbled off the sides of the top bench. Screams all around. Ari fell into the kids in front of him. They all hit the grass in a pile of arms and legs.
The Invisible Boy Strikes Again! I thought.
Kids were groaning and uttering confused cries. They scrambled to their feet. They shook their heads as they wiped grass stains off their clothes.
Miss Barlow came trotting over. “Is everyone okay? What happened?” she cried in a panic.
“Ari knocked us over,” Marla Stolz said. She kept rubbing her shoulder and groaning.
“I didn’t do it!” Ari cried. “It was Frankie!”
Miss Barlow squinted at him. “Frankie Miller?”
“Frankie jumped up and down and made us all fall off,” Ari said.
“Ari, Frankie Miller isn’t here today,” the teacher said. “He’s absent.”
“Can we get everyone back in place?” the photographer shouted. “I have the next class waiting for me.”
Kids started to climb back on the bleachers. Ari stayed to argue with Miss Barlow.
“Frankie isn’t absent,” he told her. “He’s here. Only he’s invisible.”
Miss Barlow laughed. “That’s a good one, Ari. Why don’t you make yourself invisible and go back up to the top row?”
“It’s not a joke!” Ari cried.
“Yes, it is,” I whispered in Ari’s ear. “It’s a hilarious joke.” I laughed. “The invisible boy strikes again!”
After school, Eduardo and I rode our bikes to Abracadabra ’N’ Stuff.
Only something had changed.
The store stood on the corner in a low red-brick building. The sign above the glass door used to have a magician’s top hat and a magic wand beside the words Abracadabra ’N’ Stuff.
But as I leaned my bike against a lamppost, I saw that a new sign had been put up. A painting of a steaming soup bowl stood beside the words Broth & More Broth.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered. A feeling of dread tightened my stomach. I knew instantly that I was in trouble.
I followed Eduardo into the narrow store. Everything had been changed. A glass counter stood along the wall. Behind the glass, I saw a row of large cooking pots. They appeared to contain soup or something.
I glanced all around. No sign of magic tricks or equipment.
From behind the counter, Jerome greeted Eduardo. He was an older guy with short white hair and a slim face, covered in white stubble. He had lively blue eyes that look like they belong on a much younger guy.
Jerome usually wore a magician’s top hat. But today it was replaced with a white chef’s cap. And he wore a long white apron over his clothes.
“How do you like the new store?” he asked Eduardo.
Eduardo’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t hide how surprised he was. “Wh-where is the magic stuff?” he stammered.
“Try some bone broth,” Jerome said. He picked up a metal ladle. “I have four flavors. It’s all hot. The chicken broth is probably what you’ll go for.”
“But the magic—”
“That stuff is in the basement, ready to ship out,” Jerome said. He scratched his stubbly face. “It didn’t sell. How many people are interested in performing magic today? They’d rather stare at their phones.”
“You still have your magic stuff?” Eduardo asked.
“Bone broth is the new frozen yogurt,” Jerome said. “You’d be surprised. People come in and take two or three quarts home. I’m lucky to get in on the broth thing nice and early.”
“My friend needs help—” Eduardo started.
“You and your friends were my best customers,” Jerome interrupted. “Here. Try a sample of the beef bone broth. No charge. It’s all organic. You’ll like it.”
He ladled the brown broth into a bowl and handed it across the counter to Eduardo. I turned and crept away. I found the stairs at the back of the store and silently made my way down to the basement.
Tall stacks of cartons stood against the wall. This was the magic equipment, ready to be shipped away.
I opened the nearest carton and peered inside. It was packed with folded-up top hats and a bunch of plush rabbits to pull out of the hats.
I didn’t know what I was looking for, but there had to be something here that would help me.
I found it in the third carton.
It was a makeup kit, a case containing a long row of tubes of stage makeup. I pulled out the first tube. It was bright white, like clown makeup.
If I smear it over my face, will people be able to see me?
My hand trembled as I carried the tube over to a long mirror that stood on the floor, tilted against the back wall.
I removed the little cap from the tube. Then I squeezed the tube and poured a blob of the white makeup onto my hand. I stared at the little puddle of white—and watched it vanish instantly.
Like Eduardo’s Mets cap and jacket.
I couldn’t hold back my disappointment, my total frustration. I let out a hoarse cry and tossed the makeup tube to the floor. My heart was pounding.
I ran up the stairs. I ran past Eduardo, who was leaning against the counter, spooning up a dark broth while a smiling Jerome looked on.
I grabbed my bike, dropped onto the seat, and began to pedal. I roared furiously down the street, ignoring the stares and startled cries from people who thought they saw a runaway bike.
I had decided to go home.
But if I had known what was going to happen to me once I got there, I would have stayed far away.
I knew the house would be empty. Mom and Dad would still be at work. Maybe I could hang out by myself in my room for a few hours and figure out what to do next.
No way I wanted my parents to know what had happened. As I said before, they are both terrible in emergencies, and they wouldn’t be any help at all.
For example: Once, when our old dog started to limp, Dad went into a panic and thought he had to call an ambulance for the dog.
Yes. An ambulance.
That’s how crazy my parents get in any kind of crisis.
It turned out the dog had a broken toenail.
That’s just one example. And it shows why I didn’t want them to know that I was now invisible.
I stopped at the curb when I saw the car was in the driveway. Did that mean they were home?
I crept in through the screen door entrance on the side of the house. I stopped in the back room we use as a pantry and listened.
I heard their voices in the kitchen.
Why had they stayed home from work? Did they know I wasn’t in school? Were they worried about where I was?
I tiptoed across the living room, holding my breath. My room was at the end of the back hall.
I can hide in my room, I decided. If I’m quiet, they won’t know I’m there.
I wanted to change my clothes. Even though I was invisible, I knew that people could smell me! No way to take a shower. But at least I could put on a clean T-shirt.
And, of course, I wanted to think about my next move. I still hoped I’d change back without doing anything. Just a POP, a flash of light, and there I’d be. My old self, with a shadow and a reflection and everything.
But if that didn’t happen, what were my choices?
I had to think.
Tiptoeing silently, I was nearly across the living room, stepping into the back hall—when I sneezed.
“Frankie? Is that you?” Dad came running into the living room.
“Frankie? Where are you?”
I stopped with a groan. “Hi, Dad.”
“Where are you? I can’t see you.”
“I’m here, Dad,” I said in a tiny voice. “I-I’m messed up. I’m invisible.”
Mom came running into the room. “I heard Frankie. Where is he?”
“I’m here, Mom,”
“Frankie? Is this a trick?” Dad cried.
“I … can explain,” I stammered.
“It’s a trick?” Dad repeated. “It’s a trick, right? Tell me. Is it
a trick?” His eyes spun frantically in his head.
“I must be dreaming this,” Mom said, pounding her sides with her fists. “Are we living in a horror movie? Is our son really invisible? It’s a nightmare. Our son has made himself invisible? No. No. No.”
I told you. They are not good in emergencies.
“Let’s sit down,” I said. “I … I know this looks bad. But let me explain.”
“Sit down?” Mom cried. “How can you sit down? You’re invisible!”
“Who did this to you?” Dad demanded. “Who did this? Should I call the police?”
“Dad, please—” I begged.
I finally got them to sit down at the kitchen table. I pulled a juice box from the fridge and dropped down in a chair across from them. They stared in amazement as the juice box seemed to float in the air.
Dad was drumming his fingers on the tabletop. I asked him three times to stop. But I don’t think he could.
Mom had gone very pale. She stared at the floating juice box. She kept wiping tears off her cheeks.
“I did a stupid thing.” That’s how I started my explanation. “You see, after Mystical Marvin’s magic show …”
“Should I call nine-one-one?” Dad interrupted. “Do we need the police? Tell me, Frankie.”
“What are the police going to do?” Mom asked Dad. “Arrest him for disappearing?”
“Please,” I said. “Please don’t interrupt me. Okay? Let me tell my story.”
I reached across the table. I grabbed Dad’s hands to stop them from drumming. I held on to them as I told my story.
Somehow I managed to get the whole story out. How I sneaked out a few teaspoons of Mystical Marvin’s disappearing formula. How I planned to slip them into Ari’s lemonade. How my plan was to make him disappear for only a few minutes.
They kept shaking their heads and tsk-tsking. But I forced them to be quiet and let me finish.
I told them how Ari switched lemonade glasses, and I became invisible. “It was supposed to wear off, but it didn’t,” I said. “I spent the night at Eduardo’s house, waiting for it to wear off. But … here I am, still invisible.”
They both squinted at me in silence. Finally, Mom said, “Did you miss Class Photo Day?”