Before I could explain, the books slammed to the ground, hammering my toes. I hopped up and down, biting my lip not to cry. We heard angry feet stomp across the floor. After a second of amazed silence, the clamor of catastrophe broke out all around us. I spotted Hubert’s yellow vest weaving through the crowd, but I wasn’t waiting around. Jody and I took one look at each other and pelted for the doors.
21 • Now What?
Outside on Broadway, we ducked around the corner and leaned against the brick wall of the store, panting. It took me a minute to realize that Jody was raving on about the fantastic leap in scientific knowledge that we’d just witnessed.
“Jody,” I explained, “she’s wearing gloves. Medical gloves. It happened last night for the first time. The latex somehow prevents the disappearing effect from passing through.”
Jody closed her eyes and swayed gently back and forth as if she was thinking really hard. I scanned the crowded Saturday-afternoon street.
“Alyssa?” I said loudly. “Alyssa?”
Jody opened her eyes.
“We have to find Alyssa,” I said.
The glass doors of Barnes & Noble swung open. Hubert and Jean-Pierre came out and looked around. They began to walk in the wrong direction.
“Hubert!” I shouted. “Over here!”
Hubert and Jean-Pierre turned abruptly and started to jog toward us when suddenly— bam!—Jean-Pierre collided with thin air and staggered to one side, holding his forehead.
“I guess we know where Alyssa is,” said Jody, jogging toward them.
Hubert was inspecting Jean-Pierre’s temple.
“Nice egg.” He scraped a mittenful of snow off the hood of a parked car and held it against the bump.
My heart went soft. I loved that side of Hubert, the motherly-make-you-feel-better side. He was such a good friend. It made me wonder for a second whether he thought I was a good friend, too.
Jean-Pierre was trying to figure out what had hit him. “The lamppost?” he said, looking around in a daze. “The mailbox?”
“Alyssa?” I whispered. I thought I heard crying and followed the sound to a doorway, under an awning. I stopped, put my hand out, and found a sleeve and an arm and a shoulder.
“He’s okay,” I said.
She gulped.
“He’s a boy, after all,” I went on. “His head was swollen anyway.”
No answer.
“That was a joke.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Are you hurt, too?”
Jody came over to me. We heard Alyssa sniff.
“Do you need a tissue?” Jody pulled a Starbucks napkin out of her pocket. I heard Alyssa reach out, and it floated up in the air.
“Take off those stupid gloves!” I hissed. She dropped the napkin on the ground. I heard her peel off the gloves with a little grunt, and I felt a clammy wad being pressed into my hand.
“Okay, now what?” I said, stuffing the gloves into my coat pocket.
“Are you all right?” Jody asked.
“What do you think?” said Alyssa in a wobbly voice. “If you think I woke up yesterday hoping to turn into absolutely nothing so that I could soak in dog food, then I guess you’d say I was all right.”
“Who’s the kid you plowed into?” asked Jody.
“He’s a boy from school—” I began.
“And I don’t want him to know!” moaned Alyssa. “About the—uck! Billie, I’ve never asked you for a favor before, but if he hears one hint that I had to swim in a tub full of dog-food muck, he’ll never like me!”
“We’re sworn to secrecy,” said Jody. “If you are.”
“Oh, I promise,” said Alyssa. “I totally swear.”
Wow, I thought. If she likes Jean-Pierre enough to take a vow of silence, I better do what I can to help out.
“And speaking of tubs,” said Jody. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s go to my dad’s,” I said, suddenly inspired.
“Your dad’s?” said Jody.
“It’s only a few blocks away. I have to go there anyway. And the bathtub is in perfect working order.”
22 • At My Dad’s
The doorman at my father’s building was a little worried about giving me the key to the apartment and letting me go up while my dad was out.
“Does your father know you’re having a party?” he asked. “He didn’t tell me you were having a party.”
“Octavio,” I said, “don’t worry so much. My dad’ll be home in a few minutes. We just got here early. My mom’s bringing Jane at two o’clock.”
Octavio was also worried about four people squeezing into the fridge-sized elevator. Good thing he didn’t know there were really five of us. I was practically hugging Alyssa all the way to the eleventh floor.
Inside my dad’s, we took off our coats and piled them on top of the umbrella stand. Then Jody looked at me. Jean-Pierre looked at me. Hubert looked at me. A hot wind swept through my head.
Okay, I thought, one step at a time … everybody except Jean-Pierre knows what we’re doing here. If Hubert had chewed enough gum, then the boys could leave.
“Chew, Hubert,” I said.
Jody edged toward the hallway.
“I have to use the bathroom, if that’s okay.”
“Uh, sure, go ahead. Second door on the left.”
“Ahh-li-sah!” Jody pretended to sneeze, signaling her victim. Alyssa brushed past me to follow.
“Hubert,” I said. “Uh, guys, come in and sit down.”
They perched on the edge of the sofa like two nervous patients waiting for a doctor.
I heard the pipes squawk as the taps went on in the bathtub. If only I was the one who was invisible! How did I get to be alone in a room with both boys together and all these mixed-up feelings?
I picked up Dad’s Artforum magazine and flipped through it, trying frantically to think of something to say. Oh, come on! Was I going to talk about modern art? I put the magazine down.
“Billie?” Jody called softly.
I went down the hall, catching a faint whiff of pig slop as the bath filled.
Jody leaned out the bathroom door. “We need the masticated chicle.”
“Oh! Oh, yeah. Hubert! Jody needs the— you know …”
Hubert bounced up from the sofa, blowing a giant bubble as he went to find his vest. Rather than be alone with Jean-Pierre, I followed Hubert. The gum-filled bag dangled from his hand as he headed down the hallway.
The lock on the bathroom door had been taken off two years ago, after Jane got stuck in there and cried for an hour. Hubert pushed in without thinking. I stumbled in after him. The smell was like rotting garbage doused with stinky aftershave.
“Uck!” We gagged.
Alyssa started to scream.
Jody’s eyes met mine for a millisecond. She opened her mouth and pretended that ridiculous squeal was coming from her. Hubert dropped the gooey bag on the bath mat and turned to flee. I turned, too—and tripped over Jean-Pierre, who had followed me down the hall. As I pushed him out the door, I heard the sound of a slap. The screaming stopped with a gasp. I wondered how Jody knew where Alyssa’s face was, but I guess she’d just followed the noise.
“Why make a noise like that?” said Jean-Pierre, once again on the sofa. “Jody was not in the bath, after all.”
But maybe Alyssa was! No wonder she’d screamed! I would have screamed the roof down. Hubert would die if he knew he’d sort of seen Alyssa with no clothes on! I flopped into the big chair and grinned at him.
But Hubert didn’t sit down or smile back. “Jody’s a bit weird,” he said, answering J. P.
“Maybe she always yodels in the bathroom,” I said, giggling.
“You just better hope she’s quick about it.” Hubert looked at his watch. “I guess we can go now. I’ve done my part. And isn’t your dad coming home soon?”
J. P. jumped up from the couch. “Your father is scary, like your mother?’”
“No!” I said. I grimaced at Hubert
so he wouldn’t say more.
Jean-Pierre glanced from me to Hubert and back again. He looked embarrassed. “You two probably want to be alone. I was hanging out all this time, and maybe I was in the way?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. Hubert was bright pink. Both boys were acting too weird for words. It was time to clear up this mess.
“Hubert?” I said. “May I talk to you for a minute, please?”
“I am in the way,” said Jean-Pierre. “I should go?”
“No,” I said. “Stay here. This will only take a second.”
I dragged Hubert by the sleeve into my father’s kitchen. “Listen,” I whispered. “J. P. has some whack idea that you—that I—that you and me—you know—did you say something to him?”
“No way,” said Hubert, examining the handle on the cupboard door.
“Good. I’m glad we got that straight.”
“Only …” he said.
“Yeah? Only what?”
“Only I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” he said, stuttering almost. “In case you turned out to like him, I mean, someone, maybe, sometime, better than me.”
“Oh, Hubert.” I felt a sob of relief tighten my throat. “You’re bananas. You’re my best friend, forever.” I squeezed his arm and dragged him back to the living room.
Jean-Pierre took one look at us and turned toward the door. “I’m in the way,” he said. “I think it’s best if I just disappear.”
“No, no!” I said, grabbing him. “Please don’t disappear!”
“No!” said Hubert. “Anything but that!”
The pause was more than a pause, like holding a breath to get rid of hiccups. And then I burst out laughing.
“This is crazy!” I said. “What are we being so silly for? We’re all friends, right?”
And it hit me that we were. All friends, I mean.
“You guys had a misunderstanding,” I said. “I’m not anybody’s girlfriend, and I don’t want to be. I like having just-friends. Best just-friends, and new just-friends.”
Hubert went crimson, but I kept going, thinking if I talked really fast, it would be over quickly.
“For a while, Jean-Pierre, I thought you were stealing Hubert away from me. And I felt left out. Then it turns out that Hubert thought you were stealing me away from him. But we were both wrong.
“My New Year’s resolution was to make a new friend,” I added, “and I’m glad it turned out to be you.”
Things might have become awkward again except that someone was calling my name.
“Billie?” It was Jody, only her voice sounded weird. “Could you come in here for a sec?”
“What?” I went back down the hall.
She yanked me into the bathroom. Dad’s dumb Mickey Mouse shower curtain was pulled across the tub.
“Mmm,” I said. “Eau de puppy snack. Where’s Alyssa?”
Jody hooked her thumb at Mickey.
“Alyssa?”
The shower curtain inched open. Alyssa was there, wearing her clothes. She was shivering slightly and scowling with black-eyed fury. Her fancy hairstyle was dripping wet with chunks in it—she hadn’t rinsed properly. The tub looked like a pig trough. Her pants were rolled up, as if she was wading in a stream.
The odd thing was that from the knees down, she didn’t have any legs.
23 • After-Bath
Aftermath
Uh-oh,” I said.
“That’s all you have to say, Miss Brainy Butt?” barked Alyssa.
“I don’t get it,” said Jody. “It worked perfectly on my dog, Pepper. The new recipe’s proportions must be a little different for humans.”
“Oh, let’s talk recipes,” snapped Alyssa. “Like what to do with the pieces of your face when I get through mashing them.”
“Hush up, Alyssa!”
“You hush up, Billie. You are such a loser, pulling mean tricks like this.”
“I am not a loser, Alyssa Morgan, and don’t ever call me that again. I’m saving you, not playing tricks. If you don’t believe I’m helping, you can go away now, without legs.”
Jody laughed.
“This is not funny,” growled Alyssa. “You’re all against me.”
“Every single person in this apartment is trying to help you,” I reminded her. “Jody is the genius who will probably invent the cure for cancer or find out how to breathe underwater or something, and you’re treating her like a servant.”
Alyssa chewed on her lip, trying to stare me down, but she blinked first.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I get your point.”
I’d expected her to bite back as usual. Now it sounded as though she might cry.
“Maybe you’re only mean when you’re around me,” I said. “I’ve noticed that I’m mostly only nasty around you. Having an enemy turns me into an enemy.”
“Heavy,” said Jody.
“Can we just fix things?” said Alyssa. “I want to go home.”
I was trying to fix things, only she didn’t get it. I looked back to where her feet should be. First things first, I told myself.
“This happened to me, too,” I said. “Don’t you remember, Jody? My hands and feet stayed kind of fuzzy for a while.”
“That’s what I tried to tell her,” said Jody. “Only she wasn’t too receptive to incoming data. We need heat, right? Isn’t that what we did when it happened to you?”
“My dad doesn’t have a hair dryer,” I said. “He honestly doesn’t have that much hair to dry.”
“Let me think,” said Jody.
There was a tap on the door.
“Billie?” Hubert whispered. “Your dad just got home!” He opened the door a crack. “He’s got Jane with him. She has to use the bathroom.”
“She can’t come in,” I said. “Distract her.”
“Your dad invited us to lunch,” said Hubert. “J. P. said he’d help make crepes.”
“Hubert, we have a little crisis here. Can you think of something brilliant to keep the others away for a few minutes?” I shut the door.
“How about if we blow on her?” I said, getting back to business. “Breath is warm. Wouldn’t it have the same effect?”
“Better than putting her feet in the oven.” Jody laughed. “Let’s try it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” grumbled Alyssa, climbing out of the tub. “I’m visible again, okay?”
She sat down on the toilet seat, her wet hair flicking drips across her lap.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Jody and I knelt on either side of her and started to blow.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” said Alyssa. “It’s so humiliating—”
“Shhh.” I handed her a towel. “Work on your hair, why don’t you.”
Jody went for the oscillating-fan technique, using a steady breath and a back-and-forth motion. I tried the hot-spot method, blowing directly on one place at a time. We sat there huffing and puffing for at least two minutes before a shadowy impression of Alyssa’s legs shimmered into sight.
“It’s working!” said Jody.
“Keep blowing,” said Alyssa. “Come on. Faster!”
Slowly, Alyssa’s legs began to take shape. Jody and I kept on blowing, working our way down to the ankles.
“Billie!” Jane’s voice rang from the hallway.
“Jane, no!” Hubert yelled as the door swung open.
“I have to pee!”
24 • The End
Oh, shoot,” I said.
“Oh, no!” said Hubert, coming in behind Jane with Jean-Pierre at his side.
“Alyssa!” Jane stared. “Why don’t you have any feet?”
“What?” gasped Jean-Pierre.
“Go away,” moaned Alyssa.
“How did Alyssa come to be here?” asked Jean-Pierre.
“Can you stand up with no feet?” asked Jane. “I really have to pee.”
“Go away,” said Alyssa.
“Ohmigod,” said Hubert.
Jean-Pierre crouched between Jody and me, transfixed. Jody continued to breathe steadily on Alyssa’s right foot, which was slowly, slowly reappearing.
“Wow!” said Jean-Pierre. “Extraordinaire!”
Alyssa covered her face with her hands—dying, I’m sure, of mortification. She didn’t realize Jean-Pierre was fascinated.
“May I try?” He plucked Alyssa’s left ankle out of my grasp and took over the blowing operation. Alyssa jerked her leg, nearly kicking him in the chin, but he held on.
“I feel it, but I do not see it!”
“Billie,” said Alyssa. “Do something!”
“We all know boys are full of hot air,” I said. “So let him use it for a good cause. Think of him as a prince kneeling romantically before you.”
“Instead of some weirdo panting on her toes?” asked Jody in a whisper.
Jean-Pierre ignored us and kept blowing. Within minutes, Alyssa was whole again.
“Now, can I please have some privacy?” said Jane, plugging her nose and hopping from foot to foot. Alyssa stood up and grabbed her socks and boots from on top of the laundry hamper. She flounced into the hall just before my father appeared in the doorway.
“What are you all doing in the bathroom? Is this what kids do these days?”
“Dad!”
“Eeew! What’s that smell? What have you been doing in here?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just an experiment.” I noticed Hubert tugging the shower curtain over to hide the junk in the bathtub.
“Well, it stinks! I don’t think your mother would approve of this, Billie. Come on, everyone. The party is moving to the living room. Now.”
He led the way. My friends shuffled out behind him. I yanked the Mickey curtain out of the way and turned on the taps. I rinsed what I could down the drain, but there were huge chunks of yuck that would have to wait. I closed the curtain again and finally gave Jane her private moment.
Alyssa was in the hall, pulling on her socks. The others had gone ahead, so I waited for her. I had something more to say.
“You know what, Alyssa?” I said to the bent-over back of her head. “I’ve known you since kindergarten, just like I’ve known Hubert. But you’ve never said two nice things to me in eight years. You were always rude to me, and bossy and mean.”
The Invisible Enemy Page 8