The Invisible Harry (2 page)

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?

W
hile 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.

H
ide 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.

“Jane,” said Jody, “why don’t you get him a drink of water after his ordeal?”

“What should I put it in?” asked Jane, hopping to her feet in a flash.

“Use one of the cereal bowls,” I suggested. “You know, with the blue stripe.”

She scurried away to the kitchen.

“So,” said Jody, as if she’d been waiting for us to be alone. “Did you ask your mother? Can you keep him?”

“She doesn’t want a pet,” I said, feeling forlorn as my fingers rested on the puppy’s silky head. “She just doesn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“That stinks,” said Jody. “But it’s typical of a parent. To say no without even trying. They always accuse us of not trying, like with Gorgonzola cheese or something disgusting, but really they’re the ones with rigid rules. You’re only asking to love an animal. My mother is just the same way. She lets Pepper live with us because my dad was the one who got her, but the puppies? Forget it. I’m just going to have to make them disappear somewhere….”

“Disappear? You mean really disappear?”

“Well, actually, I meant ‘go away,’ you know, to a shelter or a pet shop, but now that you mention it …” Her eyes got bright, and she grinned a big, shiny grin.

“How much do you think your mother would mind having a pet she couldn’t see?”

J
ane came inching back into the room, trying to keep the bowl level. “Is the puppy hungry, Jody?” she asked eagerly. “Can we feed him? What does he like to eat?”

“I brought him some of his PuppySnack, Jane, if you want to give him a treat.” Jody pulled a foil package out of her shoulder bag and gave it to Jane.

“Just one or two, though. We don’t want him to get sick.”

“I’m hungry, too,” said Jane as she watched the puppy chomp on his cookie.

I went to Dad’s kitchen and found the potato chips and some cheddar cheese and green grapes. We had a picnic on the floor while the puppy tried to climb our knees.

Jody told us about her project for the science fair.

“After countless experiments with layers of reflective substances, I developed a formula for solar popcorn. It really works, too, except that it takes about two hours of serious sunshine to get a bowl of popcorn, and most people don’t think about snacking that far in advance. But it works, so I’ll probably win.”

I crumbled cheese in my fingers and let the puppy lick it off.

I told Jody about the medieval pageant we were preparing for at school. We’d been making the costumes for weeks in art, painting tabards on brown paper and forming shields out of papier-mâché and hooking together soda pop caps for chain mail.

“It sounds mighty,” said Jody. “We never have fun at our school. ‘It’s too distracting from the serious matter of education.’” She was imitating someone I was glad not to know.

“Oh, my God, it’s late, Jane. What if your
dad comes home and you’re not even in your pajamas? It’s after nine-thirty! You have to go to bed!”

Jane immediately performed her finest imitation of a sick cat, but Jody insisted that the puppy was tired and had to go to sleep right away. She took him into the bathroom and closed the door.

I lay down next to Jane on the sofa bed and snuggled her the way my mother does if she can’t get to sleep. This means that she tucked her freezing cold feet between my legs and used my arm for an extra pillow. I sang “Hush, Little Baby” until she told me to shut up because my breath was tickling her ear. When she finally fell asleep, I had to take my arm out from under her head in the most careful maneuver possible.

Jody was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, reading one of my dad’s
Fine Home Building
magazines. I don’t know when he thinks he’s going to build a fine home, but he
has enough issues to wallpaper the bathroom.

The puppy was asleep on the mat, curled up like a dog on a greeting card.

“Well?” asked Jody. “Are you ready? Should we do it? I have the powder in my bag. You know it works.”

That’s for sure. I am an expert in that department. The way I met Jody was because I found her makeup bag in Central Park. Before I found her to give it back, I tried the powder in the compact, and, believe it or not, I disappeared. I’m not kidding, I swear. I totally vanished. It was one of Jody’s secret formulas. She is a science genius.

And being invisible was amazing. For one thing, I went outside in New York City by myself! The hard part was not being able to tell anyone, except Hubert. And I sort of missed my mother after a while.

But that wouldn’t bother a dog….

“Ummm,” I said, “I’m thinking….”

It was just too easy. My mother wouldn’t
have to know for a while. By then, I could prove that I’m ready to have a pet. I could keep it in my room and take it for walks. I could even take it to school. I could buy food with my allowance. And I would have this sweet, fuzzy dog baby for my very own.

“Okay,” I said. “Go for it!”

“Hurrah!” whooped Jody. “I love a brave move.” She dove into her bag and pulled out her makeup case.

“Ooooh!” I cried in recognition.

Jody smiled at me. “Feeling nostalgic?” she asked.

“Wait a minute!” I had thought of something. “What about, you know, what about, um … poop? Is the poop invisible? And how am I going to know when he wants to go?”

“He’s almost totally trained,” Jody assured me. “He’ll mostly only do it outside, on the curb. And I remember with Pepper, when I was testing the stuff on her, the poop stays invisible until it, uh, cools off. About two minutes.
Then you can see it, and you just use newspaper or a bag, like with a regular dog. I’ll give you the rest of the PuppySnack, so you’re set.”

I rubbed my nose between his ears and gave the little speckled nose a good-bye kiss. Then, I sat back on my heels, giving Jody room to work. She was swift and efficient. Using toilet paper as a tool, she daubed powder across the puppy’s head, around his fluffy neck, and then down his body and tail.

Within seconds, he went all shimmery, just the way it had been with me. It was like I was wearing my mom’s reading glasses. And a minute later, he was gone, and we were looking at Dad’s royal blue bathroom carpet where my new pet used to be.

“Hey,” said Jody as she put away her equipment, “you never picked a name.”

I reached out to make sure he was still there. When my fingers found him, I stroked his invisible back.

“I think I’ll call him Harry,” I whispered,
feeling a bit awed by the magic. “After the greatest disappearing magician of all time, Harry Houdini. His name is Harry.”