by Bryce Clark
“What are you doing?” asked Mike.
Sam then shut the chest and put the lock back on. “It’s my key.”
“Yeah, all right,” said Mike.
“We have to make some rules,” said Amy.
“Rules?” Mike asked.
Amy nodded. “Yes, I’m the oldest—”
“That’s so lame. You can’t even do anything,” Mike whined at Amy.
Amy hung her head, and Mike felt a rush of shame. “Come on, I didn’t mean it,” he said.
“Look, this is insane and crazy and beyond belief, but we just found shirts that apparently make you go invisible and make Sam super strong!” exclaimed Amy. “This isn’t a casual thing. We have to be smart about this.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Amy walked over to Mike, standing so close they could see into each other’s pupils. “My shirt doesn’t seem to give me any special talent. But I’ve seen what you can do. That makes me a part of this. Plus, I do have a shirt. Even if it doesn’t work, I’m in the group.”
“She’s right,” said Sam.
“You’re on her side?” Mike frowned.
“I’m on our side,” said Sam. “And she’s right. We need to be careful.”
Mike relented. “Okay, fine. What kind of rules?”
“First, we can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Duh,” said Mike.
“I’m serious. You might be tempted to brag or even show off, but don’t do it. This has to be a secret between the three of us. If anyone heard about this, they’d think we were crazy. But if they saw what you could do with the shirts—well, I don’t know what would happen, but it wouldn’t be good. They’d probably take you to NASA and run experiments on you.”
Sam shuddered. “I even hate going to the doctor. I agree.”
“Fine, whatever,” said Mike. He didn’t really care; he just wanted to agree so he could go use his shirt however he wanted.
“Second, Mike can’t be invisible, and Sam can’t use his strength unless we all agree in advance.”
“No way,” said Mike. “That sucks.”
“Those are the rules. If you can’t agree to them, then I’ll tell Mom and Dad all about it. Would you rather have their rules, or mine?” asked Amy.
Sam’s face clouded. “These are really cool,” he said. “Why can’t we use them when we want?”
“Aim, you’re being a control freak,” Mike sighed and rolled his eyes.
“I just think these rules will protect your gifts—you know, allow you to use them for a long time,” said Amy.
“I guess I can do it,” said Sam slowly.
“Thanks,” Amy smiled at Sam.
“Fine. I agree. Just don’t tell Mom and Dad,” Mike huffed.
“I won’t, if you keep the rules.”
“Should we take them off? I mean, can we wear them around?” Sam wondered.
“I’m not sure,” said Amy. “Hold on.” Amy pulled her red shirt up and over her head. Once the shirt was off her body, it became completely visible again. Amy turned to look at Sam and Mike. She could no longer see their shirts glimmering. “I can’t see your shirts shimmering, anymore.”
“Yeah, remember I couldn’t see yours before I got my shirt?” Mike asked.
“So, only people with red shirts on can see other people wearing red shirts?” asked Sam.
Mike and Amy stared at Sam. “Well, I think it only applies to these red shirts,” replied Amy. Mike laughed.
Sam nodded. “That’s what I meant. Cool.”
“I think it’s okay to wear them. I’m going to wear mine,” said Amy.
“Why?” Mike asked.
Amy smiled. “I find it hard to believe that these shirts only work for the two of you and not me.”
“I hope you find a power,” said Sam.
“Thanks, Sam.”
Amy led the way as the three kids headed for the stairs.
Mike paused and looked back at the chest. There was another shirt inside, and he wondered just who it might be for.
08
MIKE AND AMY dug into a green bean casserole while David read a file at the table. The usual family dinner, meat loaf and mashed potatoes, was in full force.
Amy tugged at her red shirt, wishing that it did something for her like Mike’s did. She wondered how long she should keep wearing it if it didn’t do anything.
Mike looked over at Amy and saw her pulling on her shirt and frowning. For once he could do something that Amy couldn’t. For once he had the talent. He knew it probably wasn’t right, but it made him happy.
Laura sat down and made sure that each plate was filled with food. “I heard some more about those lights being stolen all over town,” she said.
David put down his file. “It’s all they’re talking about at the office. A client said they got the movie lights.”
“Really?” Amy asked. “Who are they?” It was rare that Amy ever cared what her parents were talking about, but she wanted to know more about the missing lights.
“Nobody knows,” said Laura. “It started this summer.”
“At school they had a moment of silence for a brother and sister who are missing. They went missing in the summer,” said Mike.
Laura lowered her fork. She looked at David. He nodded. “We heard about that. We didn’t know how to tell you about it.”
Amy rolled her eyes. Why did her mom treat her like she was five?
“Sam said they’re like his cousins or something,” said Mike. “He said he’s related to pretty much everybody in town.”
“Who are they?” David asked.
“Diane and Darren Miller,” said Amy. “They were at this carnival they have around here. There was a huge search.”
Laura looked at Mike and Amy. “Kids, you have to always be with someone. Promise me.”
“But weren’t they together?” Amy asked.
Laura thought about this. “Yes, but you still have to be careful. Okay? Don’t talk to strangers—”
“Look both ways, stay in the neighborhood …” Amy interrupted.
“It’s not a joke, Amy,” said David.
Amy nodded. “I know, I know. We’ll be careful.”
David nodded, and Laura closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh.
Mike could see how worried his parents were. He thought about Darren and Diane Miller. He wondered how their parents felt right then. And he wondered where Darren and Diane were at that exact moment. He hoped they were okay.
09
MAIN STREET WAS deserted. The shops that lined the street were closed up for the night. Many of the lights along the street were gone, but the neon sign of Hardy’s Hardware still shone bright. Wind started to pick up and intensified as dust swirled in clouds. From behind an old pharmacy, the man in the cloak who had taken Diane and Darren crept out of the shadows and slinked toward Hardy’s. The dark hood covered the man’s face, but his hands were bare. He stood under the neon sign and looked around—left, then right. Seeing the coast was clear, he reached an arm up toward the neon sign, his scaly fingers extended.
The magic, sap-like amber began to flow out from his fingers. It formed a glowing amber rope. The man in the cloak twisted his wrist, and the end of the amber rope formed a lasso. He raised his arms and levitated until he was level with the neon sign.
The man in the cloak whipped the amber rope lasso over his head, swirling it in wide arcing circles. The speed of the rope created a bright blur, and the trees nearby began to shake violently.
The man flung his hand toward the neon sign, and the amber lasso rocketed up toward it, wrapping around the sign and snapping tight.
Sparks flew as the man in the cloak ripped his arm back and violently tore the sign free from the building. The sign flew to the ground, and mini explosions of light shot into the air. The man in the cloak floated back to the ground. He snapped his wrist, and the glowing amber rope pulled the neon lights toward him.
Sparks shot out fro
m where the sign on Hardy’s Hardware used to be as the man dragged the stolen light down the street.
10
AMY SAT ON a queen-sized bed with a powder blue comforter and pink pillows. There was a TV in one corner and a white vanity in another. On her walls were posters of Coldplay and Brad Pitt. Her friends were into One Direction and Taylor Lautner, but Amy had always been mature beyond her years. Mike stood at the door, playing with his polo shirt; underneath it, his red shirt shimmered with his movements.
“What do you think happened to those kids?” Mike asked.
“Well, if you think about it, if they got lost then they probably would have been found by the searchers. I don’t know how far kids could get if they ran away, especially with the Amber Alert and everyone looking for them.”
“What’s the Amber Alert?” asked Mike.
“It’s like if a kid goes missing, all the police all over know about it, and all the TV stations put their picture on the news and stuff,” said Amy.
“So then, what do you think happened?”
“The most likely thing is that someone took them.”
“Kidnapped?” Mike sat on the edge of the bed, worry creasing his forehead.
“Yeah.”
“I never knew anyone who got kidnapped.”
“Me neither.”
“Do you think they, you know, I mean could they still be alive?”
Amy thought for a moment. “Maybe. Like Elizabeth Smart.”
“Who?”
“She was that girl that was taken by these weirdos, but then they found her like almost a year later.”
“What did she do with them for a year?”
“I don’t really know. But they found her, and she was okay.”
“And maybe Diane and Darren are okay too?”
Amy didn’t really think that was true, but it could be true, so she said, “Yeah, yeah, they might be okay.”
“I hope somebody finds them.”
“Me too.” Amy looked down at her red shirt, pulling on it again. Her normally stoic expression was replaced by genuine frustration. “This thing doesn’t do anything!”
“Calm down. Maybe you’re like the brains or something.”
“What does that mean? The brains?”
“You know, like superheroes? They need like a ring leader to help them.”
“Oh, so you and Sam are superheroes now? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves or anything.”
“That’s not what I mean. But, like, you were the one who made up the rules. Like that.”
“Oh, that’s great. The brains. More like the loser.”
“You even said it might do something.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this, Mike. I don’t feel any smarter or anything. No special brain powers here.”
With this much sarcasm in her voice, Mike knew Amy was pretty upset. He figured he’d better leave her alone to sort it out, so he stood and headed for the door. “Goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
Mike turned and walked toward his room. He did like the fact that he had a talent and his sister didn’t. But he couldn’t help feeling sorry for Amy. He hadn’t seen her this upset in a while … maybe ever. But he quickly forgot about his sister’s plight as his mind raced with ways he could use his invisibility.
David sat on a plush couch. The muted TV ran some news program with a Wall Street ticker rolling along the bottom. David typed chicken-feed style on a laptop. Behind him, the kitchen was lit by a nightlight. Over his shoulder, in the kitchen, the refrigerator door opened and stayed that way for a moment before a slice of chocolate cake floated out of the fridge, across the kitchen, and toward the stairs.
The piece of cake floated up the stairs, across the hall, and into Mike’s room, where it landed carefully on the brown-and-blue-striped bedspread. Pajama tops floated off of the floor, and Mike suddenly came into view as the pajamas cleared his head and covered his red shirt. He held the cake with his bare hands and smirked as he took a monstrous bite. Licking his fingers victoriously, he sat on the bedspread and fired up his PlayStation.
Mike worked the controls as sounds of explosions came from his video game. But he jerked suddenly as a new sound—a loud bump—came from the room next to his. It was Amy’s room. He paused the game, trying to listen more intently, and he heard the bump again, louder. He bolted to his feet and ran to find out what the noise was.
Mike burst in the door, interrupting Amy from her drawing. Amy sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. She had her iPod earphones crammed into her ears, and the music of Lady Gaga was cranked up loud. Mike could see that she still wore the red shirt beneath her frilly pajamas. “Aim—” Mike froze, petrified.
Amy couldn’t hear a thing, but she sensed that someone was present. She looked up and saw Mike, frozen in shock. She ripped off her headphones and ran to him.
“What is it, Mike? What’s wrong?” she asked.
Mike didn’t budge—he just stared at something over Amy’s shoulder. Amy turned slowly to follow his gaze and immediately leapt to her feet. They both stared in amazement. “Amy?”
“Yeah?”
“How’d this happen?” Amy had no response. How could she? How could she explain the fact that a full-size, real-life, honest-to-goodness cow was standing by her closet?
“There’s a cow in your room,” said Mike.
“I agree,” said Amy.
“Should I get Mom?”
“She doesn’t know anything about cows.”
“We have to do something.” The cow mooed and shifted its weight. Mike and Amy took quick steps away from the cow. Mike stumbled on Amy’s sketchpad and noticed the drawing.
“Holy crap!” he shouted.
“What?”
“You drew it, Amy!”
Amy looked at her drawing, then at the cow. Her eyes filled with joy.
“If you did this, then you can make it go away.”
“How?”
“Erase it.”
“It’s charcoal.”
Mike grabbed the pad and ripped the page off, holding it up for comparison. They looked exactly the same. Mike stared at the cow, and the cow seemed to stare back. Mike moved to Amy’s desk and picked up an eraser. He started to erase but just smeared the picture. The cow mooed, agitated.
“See?” Amy huffed.
Mike sighed in frustration. He yelled at the cow. “Go away! Shoo!”
“Where’s it gonna go? Don’t be stupid.”
“I. AM. NOT. STUPID! You’re the one who did this stupid drawing. Now Mom’s gonna find out—and, and they’ll take away our shirts!” Mike crumpled the paper with fury.
Amy did a double take. “Mike,” she said.
“What?” Mike roared. Amy pointed, and Mike turned toward the cow. It was gone. Mike looked at the crumpled paper in his hand, and his grimace turned into a grin. “No way! OK, that’s so freaking cool.” Amy’s eyes were brimming with tears.
Mike thought, his eyes darting rapidly. “All right, OK. Draw a, uh, draw a Snickers!”
“Oh yeah, think big.”
“Well, draw something.”
Amy pondered for a moment then picked up her sketchpad and began to draw. Mike lowered himself onto the bed as she furiously worked her pencil. She stopped and blew on the picture. Mike turned towards where the cow had been. A substance like gold dust swirled in the air before falling to the ground. When the dust settled, there was a three-foot-tall porcelain doll standing on the floor.
Mike was disappointed. “A doll?”
Amy walked to the doll, touching its face. “She’s beautiful.” She held up the sketch of the same doll so Mike could see.
“I guess we found your power,” said Mike. Amy smiled.
“So, what are your rules?” Mike asked.
“Huh?”
“You gave me and Sam rules, right? So what are yours?” Mike smiled.
Amy thought. “Well … I guess I can’t draw something unless we all agree. I mean, that wo
uld be the fair rule, but …”
“No buts,” said Mike. “If we can’t do anything without you, then you can’t do anything without us.”
“Okay, that’s fair. I guess whatever I draw disappears when I crumple the paper, huh?” mused Amy.
“Yeah, but don’t do it and crumple just so you can get away with it,” said Mike.
“Oh, I won’t,” promised Amy with a sly smile.
11
HUNDREDS OF KIDS played basketball on the large blacktop parking lot behind the school. The kids stood in cliques spread out across the pavement. The rusty basketball rims, which had been stripped of their nets long ago, stood unused. A few kids played tag halfheartedly. Others hopscotched on a game drawn in red, white, and blue chalk. A few boys played catch with a Nerf football.
Ben led a group of kids in a game they called “suicide.” They threw a tennis ball against the side of the school and then fielded it like in baseball. The rules were simple—if a player didn’t catch the ball in the field, then he had to run to the wall and touch it. If another player grabbed the ball and hit the failed fielder before he could touch the wall, then it was time to “line up.”
Lining up was not an enviable situation. The player would have to stand against the wall—and then the boy who had hit him would get two free shots with the tennis ball. Most boys stood sideways when they had to line up, the theory being that standing sideways meant less surface area for the thrower and therefore a less likely chance of being hit.
Ben was very good at suicide—it could be said that he was the best. He thrived on inflicting deep purple bruises with precision line-up throws. The game was fast paced, and the boys yelled and laughed as they played. Only the bravest of boys dared to play.
Mike, Sam, and Amy stood on the sidelines watching the game. Mike had never seen it played before and, while it seemed like you could get pretty hurt playing, a large part of him was attracted to the challenge. Sam hated suicide and avoided playing at all costs.
“Hey, Sam, we found Amy’s power,” said Mike.
“Really?” Sam beamed. “What is it?”