The Invisible Enemy (7 page)

J
ane fell asleep on the floor, snuggled in her sleeping bag. Above me, the bunk creaked and then creaked again as Alyssa turned over. So, she was still awake, too. Here we are, I thought—fire-breathing enemies sharing a bunk bed. In a movie it would be funny. Only it was real life, and never in a million years would I have invited Alyssa to sleep over. In fact, I was supposed to be ignoring her, according to my New Year’s resolution. But here she was, practically
moving in with me! This is
not
what I meant when I vowed to make new friends! Jean-Pierre, on the other hand …

“Alyssa? Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Why did Jean-Pierre call?”

There was a thump from above. I wondered if the blankets were invisible. Are things still invisible in the dark? The streetlight outside cast a glowing moon on my ceiling, but otherwise, the room was dim.

“What did he say?” I asked again.

“He wouldn’t tell me,” she said at last. “He said it was private.”

“Private? He said private?”

“Are you—you know—are you a couple with him?”

“Give me a break, Alyssa. He’s been in the school for five days!”

“Yeah. But he asked you out, right? Today, before Hubert showed up.”

“Not really.” I wasn’t sure how much she’d overheard. “He’s just got a French way of making friends, maybe.”

“Well, I’d go out with him in five seconds,” she said.

“Go where?” I asked, pretending to be dense.

“Oh, don’t be dopey. If you’re going out, it just means you talk more on the phone and stuff. Doesn’t he have the cutest accent?”

“Uh-huh.”

Maybe she wanted me to talk some more, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel so mad by now, just tired. Tired of having her around. Tired of the whole stupid situation. You’d think if someone was invisible, you’d see less of them, but Alyssa was with me more than ever.

An ambulance siren started in the distance, coming closer and closer down Broadway, turning into a wail. Hearing a siren at night always sort of scares me. It sounds so full of panic, and there’s no way to know if it gets wherever it’s going on time. I held my breath as it roared past our building and out of hearing.

“Did you like it when you were invisible?” Alyssa suddenly asked. It sounded like she was leaning over the side of the bunk. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah, it really was, at the beginning. First
thing I did was scare the underpants off Hubert. I sneaked up on him in the cafeteria, and he nearly choked on a tortellini.”

Alyssa giggled.

“Then I skipped out of school and went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was totally fun; I even went on a movie set. I went to Dean & Deluca and saw a pickpocket. Then, when I got back to school, I—” I stopped short.

I’d almost accidentally told her the highlight of being invisible, which had been getting revenge on Alyssa. She’d stolen Hubert’s topic of China for the fifth-grade class project, so I ruined her final presentation by sprinkling just enough powder over her notes to make them vanish. She got up to talk, and she had nothing to read. She couldn’t rely on her memory because she’d copied the work in the first place without paying attention. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she flubbed in front of everybody.

Now that I was thinking about it, it sounded pretty cruel. I mean, she was my enemy and everything, but maybe humiliation in public was going too far.

“Yeah? Then what?”

“Well, nothing, actually. I came back to school. Being invisible didn’t really fit in with my life, you know? It’s fun for a while, but it’s kind of inconvenient. There’s lots of stuff you can’t do.”

“So then what? How did you reappear? Really? Can I get normal tomorrow?”

Now that she was asking in a nice, ordinary way, I felt like I should tell her the truth. I mean, of course she’d want to know. I’d want to know if I were her.

“You said before, it was a scientific procedure,” said Alyssa. Her voice went low. “Does it hurt?”

She was scared.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I said. “It’s sort of a—a potion. It’s a bit disgusting, maybe, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, great. I have to drink some nasty concoction?”

I think I was afraid to tell her.

“Er, no, you don’t have to drink it.”

“Well? What then?”

I decided maybe I’d better not say after all. She’d go bananas.

“It doesn’t hurt, Alyssa, I promise you that. Jody will tell you everything tomorrow, okay? It’ll all be over tomorrow.”

“How am I supposed to sleep, not knowing?” she said. “Besides, it’s weird being in your house. We’re not exactly friends or anything, but I’m lying
in your
bed, depending
on you
for help.”

And what if the new recipe didn’t work? What if it turned out I couldn’t help?

“Plus,” said Alyssa, “I don’t have sleepovers very often.”

“You’re kidding. What about Megan?”

“I don’t like Megan’s house. Her brothers are thugs.”

“Why doesn’t she stay at your place, then?”

She didn’t answer for a while.

“Oh, well, my parents …” she started, and then faded away. She was quiet so long this time, I was sure she’d gone to sleep. I lay there thinking about how to get an extra breakfast tomorrow.

But then, “You know what’s strange?” she
said. Her voice was getting smaller and smaller, as if she didn’t really want to be talking, but it was leaking out anyway.

“I sometimes get this feeling, when I’m at home with my parents, that I’m not really there.”

“What do you mean?”

“They ignore me most of the time. I try to be funny and say clever things so they’ll at least turn their heads in my direction. But they just keep on talking and talking to each other.”

The bed above me creaked again. Alyssa’s voice came more clearly. “They’re in the same law firm, so they’re together all day, too. They come home chuckling about some woman at the office or complaining about the waiter at lunch, and I sit there thinking I must be invisible.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And now I am. Invisible. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yeah.” And sad, I was thinking. I never knew Alyssa was covering feelings like that. You’d never guess from her regular self.

“It’s the opposite at my house,” I said. “I’ve got a Leech Mother. Talk about a Friend Repellent! Did you ever think about that? She hears
what we’re saying before we even think it. Plus, she’s at school all day and knows what happens there, too. I feel all clogged up from having her watching me every minute.”

“Well, I was listening to your mother go smoochy on you, calling you ‘honeybun’ and everything, and I was going to say something, you know, rude. But at least she’s thinking about you. A pet name is not
so
bad. It’s usually a sign of affection.”

“That’s true.”

“Can’t you just tell her to back off a little?”

“I try, but she gets insulted.”

“Which do you think is worse?” asked Alyssa. “Being loved too much or not enough?”

“They’re about the same, I guess.” I didn’t really think so, though. I knew however annoying my mother was, I’d rather have her there than not there.

I felt bad for Alyssa. She was sort of alone. Maybe being invisible was starting to take the crusty shell off her. If only she would keep it off.

I fell asleep thinking that if I never had to see her again, maybe we could be friends.

A
lyssa and I waited for Hubert on the uptown platform of the R train. He lives near the Canal Street Station and I live half a block from the Prince Street station, so if we stand in the right spot, it’s easy to meet on the train.

My mother had taken Jane to Katie’s birthday party. Harry was safe with Sam, our totally cool dog-walker. And that was it for the plus side. I felt almost dizzy from thinking about the minus side.

Had Hubert chewed enough gum? Would the new recipe work? Would we be finished in time to meet Mom at my father’s place uptown like I was supposed to?

“I wish this was all over,” said Alyssa.

“So do I.”

The train chugged into the station. When
the doors slid open, Hubert was blowing a bubble and waving from inside. And Jean-Pierre was standing right beside him.

Oh, no! How could we do what we had to do with Jean-Pierre around?

“Oh, goody,” whispered Alyssa as we stepped onto the subway. “Your boyfriend is here. This’ll be fun!”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Alyssa,” I reminded her through gritted teeth. I didn’t want us to fight this morning, but she seemed to have her shell at least partway back on.

“Hi, guys,” I said, glaring at Hubert as the train started. I grabbed the same pole they were holding. Alyssa must have, too. The whole pole vanished beneath my mittens.

“Let go!” I shouted. “Sit down!” The pole reappeared.

“Billie, I can’t take this,” said Hubert.

“What happened?” asked J. P

“The lights play tricks in the tunnel,” I answered, looking around for a clue to where Alyssa had gone.

“The lights?” said Jean-Pierre.

The seats were about half full. We were the only ones standing up. She might be anywhere in the car. I could almost hear the bomb ticking.

“Billie?” said Hubert.

“Huh?”

“I said, are you okay?”

“Me? Oh, sure. Surely, surely, indeed.” My mouth was talking without my brain. I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them again to help me focus.

“How was the sleep-over?” I asked. “Did you guys stay up late?”

“Not too late,” said Jean-Pierre.

“Felt like all night,” said Hubert at the same time.

What did that mean?

People pushed in through the doors at the next stop. I noticed the number of empty seats was shrinking.

“We had ‘boy talk,’” said Jean-Pierre, grinning at me.

Hubert flinched. What was going on here? I wondered.

“Hey, Bertie,” said Alyssa out of nowhere on my left. “What color are J. P.’s pajamas?”

Jean-Pierre’s head snapped up, and he stared at me. Hubert’s eyes widened. I took a firm step to one side, intending to crush every bone in Alyssa’s toes. Why couldn’t she just be quiet for one more hour?

“My pajamas?” asked Jean-Pierre.

“Ha-ha, no, no,” I said, squeaking my voice to sound more like Alyssa. “I was just—er—ha. That didn’t come out the right way. What I meant was, it’s a bit funny, you know? J. P.’s pj’s. That’s what we call them in English: pj’s.

Alyssa giggled, and I swung my backpack into what I hoped was her rib cage.

“It could be a nonsense rhyme,” I babbled.

What was I doing, reciting poetry about a boy’s pajamas on a subway? The obvious answer
was that Alyssa had finally managed to drive me insane.

“Billie,” said Jean-Pierre, “you—you are—
extraordinaire!
”

Hubert looked as sick as I felt. The train squealed as we pulled into Forty-second Street.

“Don’t we change here?” asked Hubert.

“Ohmigod!” I rushed for the door. “Come on! It’s our stop, everybody!” I looked around frantically as I jumped onto the platform. People shoved past on both sides.

“Billie?” said Jean-Pierre, probably wondering why I was blocking the exit.

“I’m right here, honeybun,” said Alyssa, next to me.

“Guys, go on ahead.” I pretended to pause on the stairs to tie my sneaker. “I’ll meet you on the uptown 1/9 platform.”

As soon as they were a few steps ahead, I began to mutter. “Listen to me, Alyssa. Can you hear me? Alyssa?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m helping you, Alyssa.”

I noticed a woman yank her child away from me, and I realized how strange I must seem, babbling to no one. But I had to set things straight.

“Are you listening, Alyssa? I want to help you, I really do.”

“Whatever,” she said, like I was boring her.

“Alyssa? If we both make an effort—”

“You just make an effort to fix me, Billie!”

Oh, she was so annoying!

“Fine,” I said. I’d given her a fair chance to be friends, and she hadn’t taken it. I wished she had, but she hadn’t.

“Just be quiet,” I said, “since that’s the way you want it! Do whatever I say, or I swear I’ll leave you like this forever!”

I didn’t give her a chance to make another rude comment. I ran to catch up with the boys, pretty sure she’d follow, at least for five minutes.

A
lyssa tripped on my heels getting on the number 1 train, so I knew she had followed us on board. I sat down. There was only one spot beside me, and Jean-Pierre took it. Hubert stood, wedged between a man with four shopping bags and a teenager with his Walkman turned up so loud we all could have been dancing. I couldn’t tell where Alyssa was.

“Are you here?” I said aloud.

“I’m here,” said Jean-Pierre, nudging me. “Why didn’t you call me back at Hubert’s house last night? Did Alyssa tell you my message?”

“No. She said—”

I got punched on the shoulder. “Ow!” I rubbed the spot. “I told you not to do that!” I guess Alyssa was pretty close by.

“What?” said Jean-Pierre.

“Never mind,” I said. “What were you—” I stopped. What if he did have a crush on me? What if he said it out loud? What if Alyssa heard? I suddenly felt very hot under my jacket.

“It’s about Hubert.” Jean-Pierre leaned in close. I caught my breath. I could smell his shampoo. Lemon.

“I think I made a mistake last night,” he was saying. “I should have noticed before, but I didn’t. You probably think I’m an idiot….”He paused.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Idiot
was not the word I had for Jean-Pierre.

“Until last night, I didn’t realize—I guess I should have—that you were Hubert’s, er, you know, that you and he are sort of hooked up,” he said. “You should have told me. I looked so— I mean, if you’d told me, I wouldn’t feel so stupid, asking you myself.”

“What?” I said.

“What?” gasped Alyssa.

“You and Hubert,” said Jean-Pierre.

“He
said
that?” I asked, quickly making certain that Hubert couldn’t hear.

“Well, not exactly,” said Jean-Pierre, “but I could tell from the color of his face when I told him that I—well—that I—”

He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was fiddling with the silver button on his denim jacket. I could practically feel Alyssa’s breath in my face, so I knew she must have been eavesdropping really close.

“Oh, Hubert always turns red,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But since then, he hasn’t spoken to me,” said Jean-Pierre. He stared down at his boots.

“Poor guy,” said Alyssa.

Jean-Pierre looked up again. “Who’s the poor guy? Me or him? I didn’t mean to mess up. He was my best new buddy. You and me, we can still be friends, right? And you’ll tell him that I made a mistake?”

My face was so burning hot I thought I might explode.

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” It
was the most embarrassing minute of my entire life, I swear. Hubert
liked
me? Jean-Pierre
liked
me? Oh, why did Alyssa have to be there, listening to every word?

“Hey, Billie,” called Hubert. He hadn’t heard, thank goodness! He squeezed past the guy with the headphones and stood over us with his knees knocking mine.

Hubert
liked
me? No way. J. P. must have made a mistake. Hubert was my best friend. He didn’t
like
me!

“Which stop is it?” Hubert blew an enormous bubble.

“Seventy-ninth Street. Two more. And don’t dry out the gum,” I reminded him. “It’s supposed to be juicy.”

Hubert opened the pocket of his fleece vest, showing me the bulge of a Ziploc plastic bag, only half full of dripping gum blobs.

“We need way more,” I said. “Keep chewing.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he grumbled.

Maybe Hubert just didn’t want J. P to like me because he thought he’d lose his new friend. Or maybe he wanted to protect me from being
embarrassed. Or maybe J. P. had it all wrong because he didn’t know Hubert like I did. Or maybe—oh, make my brain stop! I couldn’t think about this on the subway!

“Where are we going anyway?” asked Jean-Pierre as the train left Seventy-second Street.

“We’re going to a bookstore to do research.” Well, it was sort of true. I stood up. Ours was the next stop.

“Research?”

“For our project,” said Hubert, catching on.

“Our science project,” I said. “For extra credit.”

“What is the topic?” asked Jean-Pierre.

“It’s a study of the—ah—” Hubert was stumped.

“Particle Evaporation,” I said. “The Dynamics of Disappearing Particles and Other Phenomenons of Altering the Boundaries of Perception.”

Alyssa snorted. I leaned on her.

The boys stared at me in bewilderment.

“Right, Hubert?”

“Uh, yeah, uh-huh.”

I heard a quiet
snap and a
shuffle close by.
It sounded exactly as though Alyssa was putting on the latex gloves.

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered.

“Lighten up,” she whispered back. “It’s research.”