The Invisible Harry

by Marthe Jocelyn

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARTHE JOCELYN

  The Invisible Day

  illustrated by Abby Carter

  Hannah and the Seven Dresses

  For Tom

  M. J.

  For Carter and Samantha,

  and our dog, Willie

  A. C.

  CONTENTS

  1 The Offer

  2 Duping Dad

  3 Puppy Love

  4 The Idea

  5 Harry Houdini

  6 The Brunch Test

  7 It Followed Her to School One Day

  8 Close Call

  9 Hubert Meets Harry

  10 Recess

  11 Second Thoughts

  12 In a Muddle

  13 A Knight with No Armor

  14 Chinatown

  15 At Home

  16 The Sisters’ Club

  17 Mommy, Phone Home

  18 Middle Age Madness

  19 Double-Dose Revenge

  20 Harry’s Bath

  21 Dénouement

  Epilogue

  1 • The Offer

  The phone rang. I was at the kitchen table, eating peanut butter on a rice cake really slowly, so that it would be time for supper before I’d even started my homework. My mother’s hands were wet, rinsing the broccoli, so I answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s me. Did you do the homework yet?”

  “Who’s on the phone, honey?” asked my mother.

  I turned my back. Who appointed her the phone monitor?

  “Hi, Hubert,” I said to my best friend. “Uh, no. I haven’t started yet. Why?”

  “You know the history assignment? The coat of arms? The one we have to create for our own family?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The word is ‘yes,’” said my mother.

  “Do you think this is good?” asked Hubert. “I’m going to use a Chinese dragon, you know, for my heritage. And a ship, because that’s how we got here. And I need something else, to symbolize me. What do you think?”

  “You should use a package of Banana Bubbalot Gum,” I said.

  “Billie, that’s perfect! You’re so smart sometimes! What are you going to do?”

  “Probably a cracked heart, for my heritage, for my broken home.” I noticed my mother had no comment on that statement. “And, I don’t know what other stuff yet.”

  “How about a book?”

  “A book isn’t exactly thrilling,” I said.

  “Isn’t it about time to start doing your homework instead of just talking about it?” asked my mother.

  “I have to go, Hubert,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up. The rice cake was gone. I opened my binder. I rearranged the pencils in their pencil loops. The phone rang.

  Lucky for me, my mother’s hands were wet again, rinsing the basmati rice.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Billie?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hi! It’s Jody! I haven’t talked to you for so long! How was your summer? Do you even remember me?”

  “Sure.” How could I forget?

  “Who’s on the phone, honey?”

  I turned my back and hunched over.

  “Oh, my God, I had to go away on a nightmare vacation with my parents to the shopping capitals of Europe. The only good part was going to the Museum of Science and Industry, in Paris. Um, anyway, do you remember my dog, Pepper?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, Pepper had an adventure out in the world. She ran away one night, and I was going completely crazy walking around the streets calling and calling her name. I even phoned the police to see if anyone had reported a dead dog, but it turns out that she was just off having a good time, and about a month ago, she had puppies!”

  “Puppies!”

  My mother glanced up. “In your dreams …” she murmured.

  I dropped my voice to a whisper. “How many?”

  “Three of the cutest little furballs you ever saw. My mother is having a nervous breakdown. Of course she never bothered to realize that Pepper was a girl, and suddenly her closet turns into a birthing room. She opened the door one morning and there was Pepper, curled up on Mom’s tangerine cashmere sweater, licking her pups.”

  Listening to Jody is like hearing someone talk in Fast Forward. She uses up words at twice the pace of anyone else.

  “Anyway,” she kept on going, “my cousin Amy is hopefully taking one of them, if her brother’s not allergic, and there’s a kid at school who might … but I was wondering if you might want the other one?”

  “Oh, yes, totally!” My brain was letting off sparks, I was trying to think so fast. “I’m going to call you back, okay? I just have to work things out.”

  “Is that code for begging your mother?”

  “Uh-huh.” I dropped my voice to the slightest whisper. “But save one for me, okay? I’ll call you in a couple of days.” I hung up quickly. I flung open my books in a fever of industry.

  I’ve been dying to have a pet for about five years. My sister, Jane, doesn’t count, even though she spends a portion of every day down on her knees, panting or whinnying.

  A dog would be best, but a cat would be okay. I’m not going to be ridiculous and ask for a horse or a monkey.

  Apparently someone gave me a goldfish the summer Jane was born, and I forgot to feed it and it turned belly-up; my mother has told me ever since that I am not old enough to be responsible for another living creature. Plus I guess she doesn’t want me to be.

  The last time I tried the pet subject with my mother, I didn’t get very far.

  “Well,” she said, “I suppose we could get a toad. It would be useful for eating the cockroaches.”

  “Mom, we don’t have cockroaches. I’ve seen one about twice in my life.”

  “Well, then, it wouldn’t be fair to the toad, would it? The poor toad would starve to death here. Sorry, no toads.”

  “Mom! I don’t want a toad! I want a dog!”

  “I’ll be happy to get a dog, as soon as we move to a farm.”

  And guess what? We don’t have any plans to move to a farm.

  But now Jody was offering me a puppy! Free, and no doubt really cute. Pepper is white, sort of a terrier, with brown freckles all over her nose.

  “Who had puppies?” asked my mother.

  “Oh, uh …” I couldn’t even lie and say “some kid from school,” because my mother is the librarian at our school, and she knows every kid and every parent and probably every dog who goes there.

  “Uh, a friend of Hubert’s family,” I said.

  “Nothing better than a new puppy for messing up your life,” said my mother, looking me straight in the eye. “I’m so glad we don’t have to deal with that.”

  2 • Duping Dad

  My dad lives in an apartment way uptown, over near the Hudson River. He moved there four years ago when my parents decided that “till death do us part” was too long to wait. They parted so they wouldn’t have to yell at each other anymore. And now my mother can barely trust him to have us for a weekend. She thinks we’ll have too much fun and want to live with him all the time.

  Dad’s apartment is very small, but the building is fancy, compared to our loft downtown. To begin with, there’s a doorman who wears a navy blue uniform with gold epaulets and brass buttons. He looks almost royal, and his name is Octavio, which sounds more like an Italian duke than a doorman.

  Octavio always pretends to be surprised when we visit, like he hasn’t seen us in two years instead of two weeks, and we’ve grown so much that we’re ready for college or something.

  But he’s funny, and he twirls his mustache at Jane and carries our bags all the way into the elevator as if we need help. Then h
e tells our father how lovely we are, and my dad tries to get us upstairs before Octavio pulls out the photographs of his two round sons. He thinks we’re going to marry them someday.

  The elevator is lined with gleaming wood and has stars painted on the ceiling, as if the passengers are on a voyage to outer space. My dad lives on the eleventh floor.

  He has a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a balcony about the size of a bathtub. The sofa in the living room folds out into a bed, and that’s where Jane and I have to sleep when we stay with him every other weekend.

  This time, Dad was getting an extra night because my mom was going to the American Librarians’ Conference. He would have to take us to school on Monday, all the way from uptown, and stay at our loft on Monday night.

  I hate sharing a bed with Jane. She is a wiggler and a blanket hog. She claims that I talk in my sleep. But neither of us wants to sleep on the floor, which is what my father always suggests when we complain.

  Dad hit the button on the answering machine almost as soon as we walked in the door, just like he always does. Instead of a beep, his machine has a little whistle, like a baby’s toy.

  Click. Whirr. Whistle.

  “Hello, Alex.” It was my mother’s voice. “I guess you’re still out for supper. I just wanted to say good night to the girls.”

  “Mommy!” squealed Jane. “I want to talk to Mommy!”

  “I’m going to a movie with Susan so I won’t be here later,” her voice continued.

  “Oh, no!” Jane threw herself on the couch in a sulk.

  “I’ll talk to them in the morning before I leave for the conference. I’ll be back around noon on Tuesday. Please remind them to brush their teeth at least once while they’re with you.”

  My dad rolled his eyes.

  “Good night, Jane, honey, be a good girl.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Jane decided to be brave.

  “Good night, Billie.”

  Click. Whirr. Whistle. New message.

  “Er, yes, Alex, this is Phil here.”

  “Uh-oh,” my dad said.

  “… Look, the graphic you did yesterday looks terrific, really terrific …”

  “But” said my dad.

  “But,” said Phil’s voice, “believe it or not, the client has changed the name of the product, as of last night, and wants the whole job ready with the new name in time for the presentation on Monday morning. I know this is inconvenient, but I’m going to have to ask you to come in tonight and do it. Sorry and thanks. See you Monday, pal.” Click. Whirr. Whistle.

  “Pal?” My dad was shouting at the answering machine.

  “Pal?” He stuck out his tongue at the blinking light. “My kids are here for the weekend, pal, and we rented E.T., and we were going to eat junk food and not brush our teeth, and now I have to go into the office and work, just because some dumb guy changed the name of his product?”

  “Oh, Daddy,” cried Jane, “it’s not fair! Do you have to?”

  He slumped onto the sofa and sighed in a gust. “Yes, sweetie, I have to. That man, Phil, is the boss at my job. I have to do everything he says until it’s my turn to be boss.”

  He moaned as he stood up. “I guess I’d better call Mrs. Ewing in 8B, to see if she can come up and sit with you.”

  “Dad! She’s about ninety years old!”

  “And she’s smelly,” added Jane, “like moss.”

  “Well, how about Octavio? He’d probably be thrilled to let you watch TV in his office.”

  I was about to put in a plea for being old enough to look after Jane myself, when a brilliant plan wafted into my head like a breeze from an open window.

  “You know, Dad, there’s this new girl we’ve been wanting to try out as a baby-sitter, only Mom never goes anywhere. And she actually lives uptown. And she’s really smart and scientific. Her name is Jody, and she’s fifteen or sixteen. Definitely old and responsible.”

  Dad jumped on the idea.

  “Well, do we know her phone number?”

  “In my backpack.”

  As I went to find it, I was thinking how my mother would have asked forty questions, like, How exactly do we know this person? and, How long have we known her? and, What is her last name? and, What do her parents do? and, Does she smoke cigarettes?

  But when my father sees the quick solution to a problem, he doesn’t bother with possibly disturbing details.

  Of course, even my mother would probably not think to ask, Does this girl have any unusual hobbies? Can she make things disappear?

  3 • Puppy Love

  While we were waiting for Jody to get there, I started to worry about what she might be wearing. I’d only actually seen her once, and her clothes would have to be described as Beyond Weird.

  I could have hugged her when she came in. She had on jeans and a sweatshirt, and her braces glinted like jewels in her mouth. She looked like a regular person. She was carrying a big canvas bag that she slipped off her shoulder and swung to the rug behind the couch.

  “I brought my homework, Mr. Stoner. I hope that’s all right with you. I thought that after Jane and Billie go to bed I could work a little on my essay.”

  “Oh, certainly, Jody. That’s fine. I’m hoping I won’t be gone past ten or ten-thirty, but you just never know in these situations.”

  Jody put on a look as if these situations came along all the time and she was well-equipped to handle them.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Stoner. Is there anything you want to tell me about bedtime or anything?”

  She followed him into the hall where he was putting on his jacket. I could hear him mumbling instructions, making them up on the spot. He’s not too good at enforcing rules. He thinks we’ll forgive him for not living with us if we stay up late and eat a thousand sour cream and onion potato chips when we sleep over at his place.

  “Billie!” Jane whispered urgently.

  “What?”

  “There’s something alive in here!” She was kneeling beside Jody’s bag, fumbling for the zipper. Sure enough, the bag shifted.

  “Jane! Wait! It’s not ours. Wait till Dad leaves!” I had a delicious suspicion. “Jane! Don’t touch it!”

  The bag was definitely moving.

  I dragged Jane into the hallway before she could say another word.

  “Good-bye, Dad! Don’t work too hard!”

  He smiled and apologized again and ruffled our hair and said thanks to Jody and finally shut the door.

  Jody put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Two-minute rule … Don’t say anything for at least two minutes, in case he has to come back.”

  We stood huddled by the door, waiting to hear the ting of the elevator. Jane held her breath. Even Jody was quiet, and that’s really a feat.

  “Okay, come on!” Jody turned back into the living room, and Jane dashed ahead, straight to the breathing shoulder bag. She unzipped the zipper, and we both squealed at once.

  The puppy poked his nose out, sniffing. I felt dizzy, he was so beautiful. He was clearly delighted to be free. He tried to get his paws up, but the bag kept collapsing on him and he couldn’t get out. He was only about as big as one of my father’s shoes. His fur was the color of French vanilla ice cream, freckled and speckled with chocolate spots. He had sticky-uppy ears with silky tips, and big brown eyes.

  “Ooooh, he’s so cute!” Jane tried to grab him, so I stepped in front of her.

  “Hey!” she cried, but I stood my ground.

  “Cool it, guys,” said Jody, sounding like a grown-up. “You’ll scare him.”

  “Sorry, Jane,” I muttered. My cheeks were burning. “You can hold him first. But sit down, and be careful!”

  Jane obediently sat and crossed her legs. Jody picked up the puppy and put him into Jane’s lap. He immediately started to chew her shirt.

  “Hey!” scolded Jody. “No nipping!” She held his mouth closed for a moment. “He’s just a baby,” she explained to us. “He’s teething and wants to gnaw on
everything.”

  “What’s his name?” whispered Jane, stroking his back with fingers like feathers.

  “He doesn’t have a name yet,” said Jody.

  “I’ve been calling him Boy, because he was the only boy in the litter.”

  His tail was wagging back and forth, and he kept sniffing us with curious sniffs.

  “Maybe we can help think of a name,” said Jane. I never saw her be so gentle as when she patted him.

  I put my nose right up to his, just touching at the tips.

  “Woof,” I whispered. Pant, pant, he whispered back.

  He licked me with a big, slobbery kiss across my nostrils.

  And then a loud click announced a key in the front door. Jane clutched the puppy as her eyes went wide.

  4 • The Idea

  Hide him!” whispered Jody.

  The blanket Dad had left for our bed was on the couch. I flung it across the puppy in Jane’s lap and pulled her down into a reclining hug.

  “Hey, Dad!” I said, meeting his eyes. My smile was supposed to hide the fact that I felt like throwing up.

  “We’re playing hospital. Jane is a baby, abandoned by a downtrodden victim of society.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Dad, hardly glancing at us. “I forgot the keys to the office.” He scooped them up from the table and slid them into his pocket.

  The puppy’s nose started to explore, making the blanket shake.

  Then, “Ow! Ow! Owwww!” Jane cried out. “He bit me!”

  She clutched at her stomach, bunching the blanket and snorting.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Dad asked.

  “She’s a really good actor,” Jody piped up. “She’s just getting into her character.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, then, girls. Have fun!”

  “Bye, Daddy!”

  He was gone again. Jane tore off the blanket and lifted the puppy up to look him in the face.

  “Bad doggy!” she said. “It’s your turn, Billie. I’m mad at him.” I moved my knees closer to her for the transfer.

  He was so warm and little, I could feel his heart beating through his chest. My own heart turned over with a bump. His paws were big and goofy, like he was wearing those joke animal slippers that double your foot size. His fur was like a baby’s hair or dandelion floss.