The Invisible Harry Read online

  Mr. Donaldson just stood there looking down at me.

  “How’s your nose?” he asked in a nice voice.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. “Sorry.”

  “I’m wondering,” he said in not quite so nice a voice, “why certain members of my class are out here hollering while the rest of them are sitting quietly at their desks?”

  “We’re coming, sir,” I said, hugging my pack to my chest and slipping past him.

  “Right away, sir,” said Hubert, on my heels.

  “Sir?” began Alyssa. “I think there’s something you should know….”

  Lucky for me, Mr. Donaldson was not so interested in what Alyssa had to say.

  “And there are countless things I think you should know, Alyssa,” he said impatiently. “Find your seat. Now.”

  He started to talk about life within the walls of a medieval castle.

  At my desk, I unzipped my pack and immediately had my face washed with a happy tongue.

  Hubert, at the next-door quartet of desks, stared and wiggled his fingers in a panic. I couldn’t understand. I shook my head and tried to pay attention to the teacher while I scratched Harry behind the ears.

  Twelve seconds later, Emma passed me a note from Hubert:

  Pieces of your face were disappearing.

  It looks OK now.

  What’s going on?

  I touched my face with my fingertips, but it felt normal. I realized in a flash that anything in the dog’s mouth would disappear. When I was invisible, anything I held in my hand disappeared, but for a dog it was clearly different. I would have to be careful not to get licked in public!

  Hubert was waiting. Shifting my eyes to the right, I noticed that Alyssa was waiting, too. She was watching us both with close attention.

  The thing about Alyssa is this: She’s not too good at schoolwork because she doesn’t listen and she’s dumb. She’s not too good at friendship because she’s bossy and mean and sneaky. But because she’s such a sneaky rat, she’s very good at sniffing out ratlike tendencies in others. Even if you’re just a mouse wearing rat ears temporarily. So I had to watch out for her.

  Pretending to be fascinated by Mr. Donaldson, I wrote Hubert a note on the corner of my worksheet and tore it off.

  It’s a dog.

  I squeezed the paper into a teeny ball and waited for a clear shot. Completing a perfect arc, it landed on Hubert’s desk.

  He unfolded it, read it, and dropped it, open-mouthed, in alarm.

  “Can anyone tell me what might happen first if a castle was under siege?” asked Mr. Donaldson.

  Alyssa’s hand flew into the air.

  “Yes, Alyssa?”

  “Billie just passed a note to Hubert, and she has something bad in her backpack.”

  Mr. Donaldson looked at me. His furry eyebrows add power to his glare. He looked at Hubert, and he looked at Alyssa. “And what does that have to do with life in the Middle Ages?”

  “Well, nothing, sir, but she does.”

  “What do you have in your backpack, Billie?” Mr. Donaldson strolled in my direction, running his fingers across the desktops along the way. “Are you carrying drugs or firearms?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, what then? Please share it with the class, whatever is causing the rumpus.”

  He leaned over me, and I held my breath.

  Please don’t bark, Harry, I was thinking. Please, please, please, don’t bark.

  Pretending to spread open the top flap, I groped inside for Harry’s head. I stroked his neck with the slightest motion. Mr. D. could see my binder, and my history book and my bottle of water. And nothing else.

  Mr. Donaldson patted my shoulder. “Thank you, Billie. In the future, take out the books you need and keep the pack in your locker. Alyssa, a spy should be certain of her information before jeopardizing her reputation.

  “This nonsense has put an end to the Middle Ages for today. Read chapter eleven in the text tonight.

  “Put your things together, class, and make your way quietly down to the computer lab. Ms. Lobel is expecting you in five minutes.”

  9 • Hubert Meets Harry

  Where are you going?” hissed Hubert as I headed down the wrong stairs for the computer lab.

  “We have to make a detour,” I hissed back.

  “We? Billie, I don’t like this.” Hubert is such a worrywart, he could be a grandfather already.

  As we passed the bathroom in the first-floor stairwell, I grabbed his arm.

  “Quick, come in here!” I dragged him in and closed the door before he could open his fussy mouth.

  “Billie, you are a bully. That should be your name. Billie the Bully, like a Viking. And another thing. What do you mean, ‘It’s a dog’?”

  I opened my backpack and lifted Harry out. He gave a couple of excited yips and shook himself so that I had to put him down to avoid dropping him.

  “Hubert,” I announced, “allow me to introduce Harry. Harry, this is my best friend, Hubert, so be nice. Don’t pee on his jeans or anything.”

  Hubert gasped. “Oh, Billie, don’t tell me … You’re kidding, right? Please say that I’ve gone cuckoo, because that would be so much better than what I think is going on here….”

  “I wanted you to meet him,” I said, ignoring his tirade. Harry was licking my ankle. I lifted him into my arms and headed out into the hallway again. Hubert was tripping over himself, trying to keep up.

  “What we need,” I said, pausing beside the Lost & Found box in the front hall, “is a leash.”

  I was hoping for a belt or a bag strap.

  “What you need is a brain,” muttered Hubert.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Hubert. I especially wanted you to meet him,” I said, digging with one hand among the abandoned sweatshirts and lone sneakers while Harry batted me with his paw.

  “You’re the only person I can tell, because you were there the first time. Jody’s dog, Pepper, remember her? She had puppies, only my mom won’t let me have one, so we had this idea and—”

  “And it’s a dumb idea, Billie. You have a dog that no one can see! What’s the point? The whole point is to think your dog is the cutest dog and to teach him cute tricks and to go around looking at your cute dog all day.”

  “Oh, he’s cute all right. He’s the cutest. Hey!” I’d found the perfect thing.

  “Look!” From the bottom, I pulled out a fluorescent pink skipping rope.

  “Billie, I’m going to computer lab.”

  “Just come with me for one second,” I insisted.

  I coiled the rope around my wrist and carried Harry in my arms, making Hubert lug my pack.

  In the library, I crouched down beside the shelf with domestic animal books, Dewey decimal number 636. My mother’s substitute was a parent volunteer. She had her glasses about two inches away from a fat book called Murder on Long Island, so I figured we were safe.

  I put Harry on the floor and got him to sit next to my knees. I plucked the Encyclopedia of Dogs from its place and started to flip through the pages.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Hubert.

  “Hold your horses. I’m going to show you what he looks like so you’ll know I’ve got the cutest dog.”

  I flipped the pages back and forth, hunting for a picture that looked like Harry. Harry leaned against my thigh, panting as usual.

  “See? Sort of like that.”

  Harry is a mutt with a large dose of terrier. I showed Hubert the closest, cutest picture I could find.

  “‘Personality,’” I read aloud, “‘courageous, merry, devoted, obedient.’ See? Who could ask a dog for anything more?”

  I pulled another book called Puppy Care Guide for Children.

  “Here,” I said, handing it to Hubert, “sign this out.”

  “Why me? I already have a book out. All About Armor.”

  “Hubert, just do it. I can’t have it on record that I took out this book. My mother is the librarian, in case you don’t reme
mber.”

  “Very funny.”

  It was just plain bad luck that Ms. McPhee came in just then, trailed by a few of her students. She was our teacher last year, and she gets overexcited whenever she spots one of her “old” kids.

  “Billie! Hubert! How nice to see you here! Are you doing some special research?”

  “Er, um, yeah, sort of …” We mumbled a duet.

  Suddenly Hubert lurched to one side and did a funny, leaning dance, trying to shake his left foot. I noticed that his shoelaces were disappearing.

  “What are you working on this year?” asked Ms. McPhee, oblivious to Hubert’s discomfort.

  “Oh, it’s so interesting,” I jumped in, trying to shield Hubert from close inspection. “We’re learning about the Middle Ages and how they never brushed their teeth or washed their hair or anything.”

  Hubert was swaying behind me.

  “Well.” Ms. McPhee nodded. “I won’t keep you. We have our own work to do, don’t we, kids?” She beamed at her group, and they moved off to the index files.

  Hubert had just managed to tug himself free when Harry made a low, ominous growl. I’d heard it only once before, but already I knew what it meant.

  “Hubert!” I panicked. “Grab the tissue box and follow me!” I picked up Harry, almost by the seruff of the neck, and ran with him, dangling, up the back stairs and into the courtyard. Then I dropped him, not too gently, onto the ground.

  “Okay,” I said, “it’s safe now. You can poop out here.”

  “Billie, that’s completely disgusting,” said Hubert.

  But Harry performed his duty, and we waited for it to appear, and I cleaned it up and tossed it into the garbage can. I think Hubert was a little bit impressed.

  Until the door swung open and our class came bursting out with hollers of freedom, and Hubert realized that it was recess time and he’d just cut computer class for the first time in his life.

  10 • Recess

  Recess!

  We went behind the bike racks where no one else was playing. Most of the kids went straight to the basketball court. Alyssa was whispering with Megan and Tonya in the corner. Nobody paid attention to us.

  Hubert picked up a tennis ball from the equipment bin and rolled it along the ground. After a second, it skittered off course and then completely disappeared.

  “Good dog!” I whispered. “Now, let’s see if you have any retriever in you. Bring back the ball.” I pointed sternly and waited with my hand out. Harry nudged me, not dropping the ball, but wanting me to wrestle him for it.

  “Oh, Hubert, I wish you could see him. You would fall in love.”

  “With a dog?”

  I rolled the ball again and Harry brought it back. This time he put it down right at my feet. It was getting soggy, like a big, slimy lemon.

  “Throw it,” Hubert suggested. “Make it harder.”

  I threw it up above our heads and as it came down, it vanished in midair. Harry was jumping for it!

  “What a clever boy you are!” I said when he brought the ball back. My voice sounded like a proud nanny.

  “You’re such a smart boy.”

  I tossed the ball long. We could hear his nails clicking faintly on the asphalt as he raced to be in position.

  “I admit, this is kind of cool.” Hubert laughed as we watched Harry fetch, over and over again.

  Until Harry started to bark. He was so excited, he just started to bark and wouldn’t stop, the way a little kid gets the giggles.

  I threw the ball, thinking he’d be quiet with his mouth full, but he kept on barking.

  “Billie, don’t throw the ball again,” Hubert warned. “We’ve got company.”

  David, chasing a stray basketball, was lingering, and his teammates were closing in. Alyssa, noticing a crowd gathering, was, of course, coming over, too.

  Harry kept barking. And then Hubert did the bravest thing he’s ever done. Especially when you consider that for Hubert, “brave” is putting his hand up in class.

  Hubert started to bark. And he barked just like Harry, same pitch, same rhythm. Harry must have been so surprised that he stopped immediately, probably sniffing around for the other dog.

  By this time, Mr. Donaldson was there, too. Everybody in the class was there, and Hubert just kept on barking, glaring at me till he was cross-eyed, his face turning bright pink.

  Finally he stopped for breath. He ducked his head down so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone, but the whole crowd began to applaud.

  “That was pretty impressive, Hubert,” said Mr. Donaldson. “Would you like to explain your little concert?”

  “Oh, I can,” I interrupted, assuming that Hubert would be catatonic for a couple of hours after such a public display. “We’re working on an idea for the medieval pageant.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to hear it,” said Mr. D., with teacherly enthusiasm. I thought Hubert might fall over with the strain of keeping his head lowered out of eye-contact range.

  “But for now, recess is over.”

  Everyone groaned and headed slowly for the door.

  “Group A, you’ve got Spanish. Group B, you’ve got shop. Let’s go, people….” Mr. Donaldson led the way.

  “Shall I kill you now, or later?” Hubert was sweating and still faintly scarlet.

  “Hubert, you were beyond brilliant.” He gave a little bow. “But,” I added urgently, “we don’t have time to dwell on your future career as a canine impressionist. Harry has disappeared!”

  11 • Second Thoughts

  May I remind you, Billie, that Harry has never been anything but disappeared as far as I’m concerned?”

  “No, I mean, really! He’s not here anymore! See, the ball is right over there, against the wall, and Harry is nowhere.”

  “Oh, sh-sh-sugar cube!” Hubert swore. “Sh-sh-shoulder!”

  “Hey, guys!” Sarah called from the doorway. “C’mon!”

  “Go ahead!” I said. “We’ll be right there.” Sarah waved, and the door swung shut behind her.

  “Harry!” I called softly. “Here, boy! Harry!”

  Hubert whistled and bounced the ball as a temptation.

  There was deadly silence. I mean, except for the traffic on the other side of the wall, and a jackhammer in the alley, and a siren a couple of blocks away, and the sound of the kindergarten singing through an open window. There was dog silence. There was no panting.

  I felt a chill race up my spine and settle in across my shoulders. This must be what it’s like when a mother turns around in the supermarket and her kid is gone.

  “Harry? Please? Harry?”

  I started in one direction around the perimeter of the yard, and Hubert went the other way. I whistled, I said his name, I waved my arms and snapped my fingers and clucked my tongue.

  Was he just hiding out? Chasing his tail? Or had he gone inside with the rest of the class? Where was my heart’s delight?

  And then, as Hubert bounced the ball, it disappeared!

  “Harry!” We both screamed with joy and ran toward him. I stepped on his paw, and he yowled. The ball dropped and rolled.

  I picked him up and rubbed my face in his neck. I inhaled his delicious doggy smell and kissed his silky ears. It was the happiest moment of my whole life so far. Even Hubert leaned over to pat his back.

  “Good to see you, little buddy,” he said. “I mean, good to have you back. You gave us a scare.”

  And then, in a different voice altogether, he added, “Billie, we already missed computer lab. We’ve got to go to Spanish.”

  I was fiddling with tying the skipping rope around Harry’s neck. He kept ducking his head, trying to sneak away. I decided to leave it till later. I couldn’t go around cuddling a skipping rope all day anyway.

  “Mr. D. always has to flirt with Ms. Picayo for at least ten minutes. We won’t be late.”

  “What are you going to do with Harry all day? This is getting ridiculous!”

  “I don’t know what else to do.”


  “Well, you can’t keep him invisible like this. This is the worst. We lost him for two minutes inside a playground, and it was scary. Think about if that happened on the street? He’d go in the road and be puppy mush in two seconds!”

  What a horrible thought. The chill went right through me this time, leaving my blood frozen. I wondered whether death would make him reappear. Then I closed my eyes to stop thinking about that.

  “You’re right, Hubert,” I admitted, “I haven’t been very responsible…. He needs a collar so we can keep track of him.”

  “A collar? Billie, he needs a life!”

  “Well, what should we do?”

  “How should I know? We should go to Spanish before we get expelled.”

  I buttoned my sweater around Harry so that he could ride on my chest with his face peeking out.

  “Maybe he’ll fall asleep after all that exercise,” I said as he snuggled against me. “I guess at lunchtime we better call Jody and ask her for help.”

  I knew in my heart that meant giving him back, but I couldn’t say those words out loud.

  12 • In a Muddle

  Harry slept through Spanish, as did most of the class.

  And he slept through most of reading time. When I felt him waking up, I asked if I could go to the bathroom, and I gave him a long drink of water at the sink. I’ve heard that lots of dogs drink out of toilets, but Harry was so little, I was afraid he might fall in.

  The door opened so quickly, it hit me in the back.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Sarah. “Mr. Donaldson wanted me to check if you were okay, ‧cause you were taking so long.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, quickly putting my own hands under the stream of water that Harry was trying to drink from.

  “Or, uh, at least, well, actually …”

  I changed my mind. “I’m not feeling great, actually. I think I’m going to the nurse’s office to lie down for a few minutes. Maybe this, um, dizziness, will pass. Could you tell Mr. D.?”

  “Sure,” said Sarah. “I hope you feel better. It’s tacos for lunch.” The door slammed behind her.