Revenge of the Invisible Boy

by R. L. Stine

“Donna!” Dad shouted at her angrily. “What’s wrong with you? What do you care about Class Photo Day?”

  Mom shrank back in her chair. “Just asking,” she muttered.

  Dad jumped to his feet. “We have to take you back to that magician. Marvelous Marv, or whatever his name is.”

  “It’s Mystical Marvin,” I said.

  “He’ll know how to bring you back to normal,” Dad said. “Come on. Let’s go to the theater.”

  I set the empty juice box down on the tabletop. “I already did that,” I said. “I went to see him. But he wasn’t there. He disappeared, too. Vanished. They had to cancel his show.”

  “Whoooooa.” Dad let out a long breath. He shut his eyes. “Let’s think. Let’s think.”

  Mom shook her head. She wiped more tears off her pale cheeks. “Listen to me,” she said. “We have only one choice.”

  “Huh? One choice? I said. “What’s that, Mom?”

  “Uncle Siggy,” she replied.

  “Oh no!” I shrieked. “Oh no! Please, Mom—not Uncle Siggy!”

  We drove to the tall building. A sign near the entrance read: UNIVERSITY SCIENCE LAB. Just pulling into the parking lot sent chills down my back.

  “I seriously don’t want to do this,” I said as we climbed the stairs to the double glass doors.

  “Listen to me, Frankie,” Mom said. “If anyone will know how to reverse that formula, it’s your uncle Siggy.”

  “He’s a brilliant scientist,” Dad added.

  “But he’s totally weird!” I exclaimed. “He spent five years studying why slugs are slimy.”

  “Yes, he’s one of the world experts on slugs,” Mom said. “But he’s not weird. He’s eccentric.”

  “He’s a brilliant scientist,” Dad repeated. When he gets nervous, he repeats himself a lot.

  I hesitated at the entrance. “You really think Siggy can bring me back to normal?”

  “He’s a brilliant scientist,” Dad said.

  “He’s known all over the world as a chemical genius,” Mom said.

  “He’s brilliant,” Dad added.

  Siggy is Mom’s brother, and no one is ever allowed to say a bad word about him.

  He was waiting for us in his lab on the third floor. When he saw Mom and Dad step off the elevator, he tucked his phone into the pocket of his white lab coat.

  Siggy is tall and a little bent-over. His head kind of leans toward you all the time. He’s bald except for a fringe of brown hair. His round eyeglasses are enormous and make his eyes appear to be bulging out of his head.

  He looks a little like my mom, if she were tall and bald and wore glasses and was stooped over. Ha. That’s a joke. They don’t look like brother and sister in any way.

  Mom and Dad had called him. Warned him about my problem. He gazed through his big glasses for a long moment, trying to figure out where I was. Then he hugged Mom and shook hands with Dad. “Frankie isn’t looking his best,” Siggy said.

  That was his idea of a joke. He doesn’t really have a sense of humor. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh.

  “Frankie, did you ever see the original Invisible Man movie starring Claude Rains?” Siggy asked. “It was made in 1933, in black and white.”

  I forgot to mention that Siggy is a movie freak. He loves old movies, like the one he just mentioned.

  “No,” I muttered. “I never saw it.”

  “This isn’t a movie,” Dad chimed in. “It’s real.”

  “You should watch it sometime,” Siggy said. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, let’s see about solving this problem.”

  He took out his phone, raised it in front of me, and snapped a few photos of me. Then he studied the photos. “Yep,” he said. “You’re not there. That’s so interesting.”

  “Can you fix him?” Mom demanded in a trembling voice. “Siggy, can you do anything?”

  He patted her shoulder. “I’ll do my best, Donna.” He motioned to me. “Come back to the lab, Frankie. I want to do a bunch of tests while you tell me how this happened.”

  So … I had to tell the whole sad story all over again. And while I talked, Siggy had his assistants put me through an X-ray machine. Then some other kind of scanner that took photos of my invisible insides.

  Then Siggy’s assistant took several vials of my blood. This wasn’t easy, since my arm was invisible. The blood seemed to be flowing into the glass vials from nowhere. Just from the air!

  “Tell me again,” Siggy said, rubbing his bald head. “This magician. Did he tell you anything at all about the formula? Did he give you any hint of what is in it?”

  I thought hard. I pictured Mystical Marvin holding the bottle with the yellow formula inside it. I tried to remember …

  “Yes!” I said finally. “I think he mentioned something about animal saliva.”

  Siggy’s eyes went even wider than usual. “Animal saliva? Really?”

  I nodded. “That’s what he said.”

  “Okay, Frankie.” Siggy tried to pat me on the back, but he missed. “Let me study the tests. Go back out and wait with your parents. I’ll come out as soon as I have an idea.”

  I slumped back out to the waiting room.

  Mom jumped up. She had her hands clasped tensely in front of her. “So? What did Siggy say?”

  Dad looked up from his phone. “Can he bring you back?”

  “He took a lot of tests,” I said. “He’s studying them. He said he’d come out when he has an idea.”

  “So he didn’t say he could do it?” Mom’s voice was as shrill as a whistle.

  “He’s looking at the tests,” I said. “We have to wait.”

  So we waited. Mostly in silence. Mom paced back and forth, her hands wrapped in front of her. Dad pretended to read on his phone. But I could tell he wasn’t concentrating on anything.

  I shut my eyes and tried to make my mind a blank. I didn’t want to think about my problem. I didn’t want to think about anything.

  I must have dozed off. Because when I opened my eyes, Uncle Siggy was standing in front of us, gazing at a clipboard in his hand.

  Mom and Dad huddled in front of him. Dad put his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “So?” Mom murmured. “So, Siggy?”

  “I think I know how to bring Frankie back,” Siggy said.

  My parents both let out long sighs.

  “I studied the tests,” Siggy said. “I think I can break down the invisibility molecules.”

  “How?” I asked. “Break down the molecules? Using what?”

  “Acid,” Siggy said.

  “No way!” I cried. “I’m outta here. You’re not going to burn me with acid!”

  Siggy made a gasping sound and raised his hand to his heart. “Burn you? I’m not going to burn you, Frankie. Don’t you trust me?”

  I didn’t answer. I started to back away, my eyes on the elevator doors.

  “You have to listen to your uncle,” Dad said. “He’s a brilliant man.”

  “Siggy would never hurt you,” Mom said.

  I let out a long sigh. I decided to give in. I mean, Siggy was a genius chemical scientist. And I had nowhere else to turn.

  He led me to a wooden chair that had a tabletop jutting out from the side. Like an old-fashioned school desk. “Sit down, Frankie,” he said softly.

  I slid into the chair.

  “Are you sitting?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. And to my surprise Siggy leaned down, grabbed a leather belt attached to the chair, and strapped it tightly around my waist.

  “I can’t see you,” he said. “Is that comfortable?”

  “If you’re not going to hurt me,” I replied, “why are you strapping me in?”

  “Just so I can find you,” he said. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go mix the acids now. Stay calm. I haven’t lost any patients all day.”

  His idea of a joke.

  “You don’t have any patients!” I shouted after him. “You’re a scientist, remember?” He disappeared back into the lab.<
br />
  As soon as he was gone, Mom and Dad walked over to the chair. “He knows what he’s doing,” Dad said.

  “Siggy can make an acid that doesn’t burn,” Mom said. “And just think, Frankie. In a few minutes, we’ll all be able to see you again.”

  I started to say, “What if it doesn’t work?”

  But my parents were so excited. They looked happy, so I decided not to say anything.

  The next ten minutes were tense. Mom and Dad stood awkwardly, staring at each other, unable to think of anything more to say. I sat staring at the lab door, waiting for Siggy to return.

  Wild thoughts raced through my head as I waited. I found myself thinking about how I would pay Ari back for doing this to me.

  I shut my eyes and tried to stop thinking about him. When I opened them, Siggy came through the lab door. He had a smile on his face, as if he had already succeeded.

  He carried a large glass beaker in both hands. The beaker was half filled with a clear liquid. The acid.

  “I know you like to perform magic, Frankie,” Siggy said, setting the beaker down on a window ledge. “Well, I’m going to perform some magic of my own.”

  “H-hope you’re right,” I stammered.

  Mom and Dad huddled behind Siggy.

  “Since you’re nervous about this,” Siggy said, “we’ll start with something small. Put your hand on the desktop here.”

  I slid my invisible hand onto the desktop.

  “Okay. Hold it very steady,” Siggy said. “Spread the fingers out and don’t move a muscle, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “This should have your hand back in seconds,” Siggy said. “Just say Abracadabra.”

  He lifted the beaker and held it over the desktop.

  “Abracadabra!” I shouted.

  Siggy tilted the beaker and poured the liquid over my hand.

  “YEOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!”

  I opened my mouth in a scream that could be heard for miles.

  My hand burned as if it were covered in flames. The pain shot up my arm and down my whole body.

  “IT BURNS! IT BURRRRRNS!” I wailed.

  Siggy took a step back. He set the beaker down. His eyes were lowered to the desk.

  Did it work?

  Can I see my hand?

  No. Still invisible. And the pain roared over me. I waved the hand in the air, trying to cool it down, trying to stop the painful burning.

  Siggy pulled a tube from his lab coat pocket. “Frankie, put your hand down on the desk so I can find it. This lotion will stop the stinging in a few minutes.”

  Stinging?

  It didn’t feel like stinging. It felt like someone holding a burning torch to my hand.

  Siggy rubbed the lotion onto the back of my hand. Then he picked up the beaker and started back to the lab.

  “I have to re-mix this,” he said. “I’ll get it right this time, Frankie. As fast as you can say Abracadabra. No worries.”

  I waved the hand in the air. The lotion was slowly starting to take away the pain.

  Mom and Dad both gazed at the desk in front of the chair.

  “No sign of his hand,” Dad said. “Maybe Siggy isn’t the right person for this.”

  “Of course he is,” Mom argued. “Siggy is a brilliant scientist. I know my brother. He’ll keep trying till he gets it right.”

  “Keep trying?” I cried.

  “He was always like that, even when he was a little boy,” Mom said. “He wouldn’t quit until he mastered something. When he got his first chemistry set, you couldn’t get him away from it. You couldn’t even get him to eat. He just stayed in his room mixing chemicals for hours.”

  “Frankie, how is your hand?” Dad asked.

  “I think Siggy burned it off,” I said. “I can’t even feel it now.”

  Dad turned to Mom. “Donna, we have to go. This was a mistake.”

  Mom jutted out her chin. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re not walking out on my brother. Siggy will fix Frankie. I don’t have a single doubt.”

  “Well, I have plenty,” Dad said.

  While they argued, I silently unfastened the strap that held me down. Then I carefully climbed out of the chair.

  Mom and Dad were really going at it. They were chin to chin, arguing about whether to stay or not. Dad kept saying, “Maybe Siggy isn’t as brilliant as we thought he was.”

  That made Mom even angrier. “We’re not moving an inch from here!” she shouted.

  I crept past them and made my way to the elevator. I knew they wouldn’t even notice that I was gone.

  I pressed the elevator button. I heard it hum as the elevator car came up. The doors opened. I stepped inside. The doors closed, and I was gone.

  I knew exactly where I was going.

  I slipped into the side door of the theater and glanced around the rows of empty seats in the dimly lit auditorium. The stage was set for Mystical Marvin’s show. But the sign outside still read: PERFORMANCE CANCELED.

  I made my way backstage. I wasn’t surprised that nothing had changed from my last visit. I looked for the old janitor, but he wasn’t there today. Mystical Marvin’s red robe lay folded on top of the chest of props.

  The dressing rooms were all dark. I had hoped that maybe Mystical Marvin had reappeared. Maybe I would find him. And maybe he would tell me how to appear again.

  But I didn’t really expect to see him. My real reason for going backstage again was different this time.

  I wanted to search Mystical Marvin’s dressing room. I wanted to go through his things and see if anything—anything at all—might help me return to normal.

  The air back here felt stuffy and stale. I saw a tiny lump of gray fur scramble across the floor against the back wall. A mouse.

  “Hey—Mystical Marvin!” I shouted his name. Just to make a sound. Just to hear my voice. It was the only way I knew I was real. “Mystical Marvin—answer me!”

  Silence. Just the echo of my voice against the high walls.

  My invisible shoes scraped the concrete floor loudly as I crept to Mystical Marvin’s dressing room. I stopped at the open doorway and peered inside.

  No one there, of course.

  I clicked on the light and stepped in. The dressing table beneath the mirror was filled with small bottles and jars. I dropped onto Mystical Marvin’s stool and began to examine them.

  What was I looking for? I don’t know.

  Anything. Anything that might be an antidote.

  Anything that might make me visible again.

  My heart began to race and I felt more and more frantic … more and more desperate … with each bottle and jar I studied. I went through them all. Sniffed them. Read the labels. Dabbed my finger into the creams and lotions.

  No. Nothing helpful on the dressing table. It was mostly makeup and makeup remover. I already knew that makeup wouldn’t help me. I also saw many jars of vitamins. He seemed to take a lot of vitamins.

  But no antidote.

  I jumped up from the stool and darted over to the tall wall cabinet. I flung the door open and raised my eyes to the top shelf.

  And there it was.

  The small bottle. The bottle of yellow liquid. The formula.

  With a groan, I reached up and pulled it down, grasping it carefully in my hand. Breathing hard, I raised the bottle in front of me and gazed at the liquid.

  This was the formula that made Mystical Marvin and me disappear. Disappear and not return.

  Oh, wait. I spotted another glass bottle beside it. It held a yellow liquid.

  Squinting at the label on the front, I read the words: Appearing Formula.

  “Yessss!” I cried out loud. “Yesss!”

  I’d found it. The appearing formula. The antidote.

  I grabbed it with a trembling hand. I nearly spilled it as I raised the bottle to my lips.

  Yesss! Yesss!

  I took a long drink of it.

  I was breathing hard as I lowered the bottle. And took another look a
t the label.

  “Oh, no.”

  I squinted hard at the small, square label. The letters DIS had been nearly rubbed out.

  It wasn’t Appearing liquid after all. It was more Disappearing liquid.

  And I had taken a long drink of it.

  I could still taste it, warm on my tongue. My throat burned.

  The warmth of the liquid gave way to cold, and suddenly I began to shiver. My invisible skin felt cold all over. I hugged myself, but I couldn’t stop the violent shivers.

  I turned away from the mirror, gasping, struggling to force away the icy chill.

  I don’t believe it. I drank more of the stuff.

  Now I’ll probably be invisible for the rest of my life.

  The shivers stopped as quickly as they had started. I took one last frantic look into the mirror. No sign of me. Then I picked up the bottle of formula and shoved it into my jacket pocket. Maybe someone could figure out what was in this stuff.

  I stepped out of the dressing room. My mind was whirring. My whole body felt heavy, heavy with disappointment—and fear.

  I stepped out onto the sidewalk, lowered my head, and started to run full speed. I didn’t think about where I was going. I didn’t even see where I was headed. Cars and people and stores flew past me in a dizzying whirl of color.

  I let out a hoarse cry. I couldn’t keep my frustration inside.

  Two teenage girls getting into a car turned to see who made that howl. I watched the confusion on their faces when they didn’t see anyone around.

  I had my eyes on them. I didn’t realize I’d been running in the street, along the curb. I smashed headfirst into a parked car. Blinding pain roared down my whole body. I didn’t move. Just threw myself onto the trunk of the car and waited for the pain to fade.

  “Hey—! Who did that?” A man was sitting in the front passenger seat. He whirled to the window. Of course, he couldn’t see me.

  I started to run again. I finally slowed to a walk when I reached the park. I was panting hard. My body was drenched in sweat.

  Clouds covered the late afternoon sky. The sun had faded behind them, and the air grew heavy, as if it was about to rain.

  I walked along the wide path that led through the park. My house was not far from the other side of the park. Walking slowly, I started to calm down a little. The waves of anger had stopped, and I began to feel weary. Exhausted. After running for miles, my legs felt as if they each weighed a thousand pounds.