The Invisible Harry (3 page)

“That’s good,” said Jody. “Harry.”

We decided to get into ready-position in case Dad came home. Harry woke up when I moved him to the sofa bed, and he began to whimper. While I put on my pajamas, he kept on whining and crying.

“Why are you so sad, little guy?” I patted his furriness, telling him that everything would be okay.

“Maybe he misses his mother,” suggested Jody.

“What should we do?”

“In the books they say to put him in a cozy place and put a clock next to him. The ticking is supposed to sound like a dog mother’s heartbeat.”

I glanced around the apartment.

“The only clock my father has is the digital clock radio next to his bed.”

Jody laughed. “Somehow I don’t think that Z-100 will perform the same service.”

“I know!” I said. I lay down on the sofa bed with my back to Jane, and Harry snuggled on my chest, under the blanket. He stopped crying almost at once. He felt like a hot water bottle and a teddy bear in one. I was in heaven.

Jody sat on the floor with a biography of Marie Curie across her knees. I guess I dozed off. I vaguely remember Jody saying good-bye. I remember Dad telling her she was a real find and that we’d call her again soon.

And I remember thinking that Harry’s snuffles were the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

H
i! My name is Patrick, and I’m your waiter this morning! Eggs Florentine is the brunch special today, along with freshly
baked pumpkin muffins. Can I get you some coffee to start, sir?”

My dad ordered cappuccino, and I got orange juice. Jane had to get water because she hates those little pip things in fresh-squeezed juice, which is the only kind you can get at the places Dad takes us. Then I thought about Harry in the backpack at my feet, and I ordered an extra water.

Of course, getting Harry into the backpack had been a bit of a challenge.

In my first conscious minute, I felt him lick my face and knead my chest with his paws and flap his tail back and forth across my arm like a flyswatter. This is a lot of activity to wake up to. Especially to pretend that all this motion was coming from me.

Jane was rubbing her eyes and watching me with curiosity. It would be a disaster for Jane to know about Harry.

I put a pillow over her face and used the three seconds before she pulled it off, screaming, to
leap from the bed with Harry in my arms and head for the bathroom, dragging my backpack full of clothes with my foot.

While I was getting dressed, I could hear Harry’s panting, as regular as a raspy clock. I fed him most of the PuppySnack. And just while I was wondering if I could teach Harry to pee in the toilet, I stepped in a puddle and realized he had taken care of the problem for this morning.
“Almost
totally trained,” I heard Jody’s voice in my head.
“Mostly
only outside.” It took half a roll of toilet paper (and six flushes) to dry the floor.

Harry was very involved in the cleanup. He kept bumping into me and getting caught between my feet. Soggy bits of toilet paper, stuck to Harry’s paws, seemed to be dancing by themselves on the tiles.

Then suddenly, he made a weird little growl in his throat, and I smelled something I hope never to be quite so close to again.

“Harry!” I moaned. But I couldn’t move because I didn’t know where he’d made the drop. I sat as still as the toilet until I could see a faint pile of poop appearing under the sink— thankfully nowhere near the rug.

“Billie!” wailed Jane. “It’s my turn.”

“One second!”

I took another roll of paper from the cupboard and scooped the mound into the toilet. One final flush, and one long spray of Natural Citrus Atomizer to clear the air.

“That was completely disgusting, Harry,” I scolded in a whisper.

He whimpered.

I cleaned off his paws and picked him up. “But I still love you.” I rolled my cheek against his dear invisible ears and then shoveled him into my pack, despite the feet going every which way. I left the top zipper open in case he wanted to poke his face out. It seemed like he was little enough to fit with room to spare.

I could have eaten breakfast four times by the time the drinks came. I don’t know why we can’t just have cereal at Dad’s house, but this brunch thing is his idea of living it up. Maybe because my mom thinks breakfast should be eaten at home, wearing pajamas, he automatically does the opposite.

Jane had torn off the corner of a sugar packet and was quietly dipping her finger in and then licking it. Dad was reading the Arts & Leisure section of the Sunday paper. Harry must have been asleep inside my pack, because he was very still.

I slid the saucer from under the creamer and casually slipped it onto my lap. Jane was instantly on alert.

“Dad!” she said in her informative voice. “Billie …”

I eyeballed the sugar packet and gave her a warning squint.

“Dad!” I said as a diversionary tactic.

“Mmmmm?” He turned a page.

“Did you put anything in your hair? I mean, it looks like you used cement or something. It hasn’t moved.”

I gently shifted the saucer to the floor.

“Oh, no! You can tell? I tried something new.” He was patting his head in a panic, looking in the mirror behind me, trying to ruffle up his hair.

I quickly poured the water from my glass into Harry’s saucer.

“I think it looks nice, Daddy,” said Jane. “You look like a man in a magazine.”

Harry barked.

I jumped half out of my chair. It was the first time he’d made a noise. And even though it was just a little bitty baby bark, it was still a very doglike noise. I had completely forgotten about this particular problem.

Jane and Dad were staring at me.

“Woof,” I barked, as best I could. Dad raised an eyebrow, and Jane looked under the table. She sat back up and wrinkled her nose at me.

“Meow?” I tried as I slipped a PuppySnack out of my pocket and dropped it by my sneaker.

Jane grinned. “R-R-Roar!” Now it was a game.

Dad glanced around at the other brunchers and glared at us.

“Can we save the animal noises for the park, girls?”

“Sure, Dad,” I agreed. “I was just making conversation.”

The food came. Jane and I both had waffles. It’s kind of a test to see how many times we can ask for more syrup before my dad gets fed up.

I now know that Harry loves waffles. He stood up on his back legs, scratching my knees with his paws, begging for food.

I started to hum, to cover the panting. I felt like a grain elevator, passing chunks down to him every twenty seconds. He ate half my breakfast, and nobody noticed. Except my stomach.

No offense to Dad, but he’s not completely aware of his surroundings at all times. That might be why he’s a great artist; he can create a beautiful idea in his mind while he’s doing the dishes. Even though it sometimes feels like he’s just not paying attention.

But I knew the real test of Harry’s life would be my mother.

T
he problem with staying at Dad’s house, way up there on 104th Street, is that we had to get up when it was practically still dark to be at school on time. But having only one clothing option cut down Jane’s preparations by about an hour, so that helped. Plus, the motherly concept of serving a nourishing breakfast is way too humdrum for Dad. We
just ducked into Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to the subway and picked up a few Munchkins for the long ride.

Of course, today I had the small extra problem of Harry. The morning routine was pretty much the same as yesterday, except that I only had to deal with pee and not poop. Dad was running out of toilet paper. And I didn’t have any PuppySnack left.

“Oh, Harry,” I said, making a cradle with my arms and burrowing my face into his fur. “I solemnly promise to get you more food as soon as I can.”

He understood because he licked me.

Money. I was going to need more money than usual.

“Dad,” I said on the train, “you forgot to give us our allowance. Saturday is allowance day.”

“Your mother usually does allowance, doesn’t she?” he asked.

“Yeah, but she forgot, and we were with you on Saturday.”

Jane opened her big mouth. “But she gave—”

“That was last week, Jane,” I said firmly. “You’re mixed up.”

“Okay,” said Dad. “How much is it? You get five?”

“Uh-huh, and Jane gets three.”

“Yeah, I get three, Daddy.” She was a quick learner.

He pulled out his wallet and counted out the bills.

“Let me look after yours, Jane,” I offered. “I have a pocket with a zipper.”

She was about to say, “No way,” but Dad agreed, and I was suddenly eight dollars richer. Very smooth, I thought proudly. Now I can feed my baby!

Outside the school was the usual crowd. Kids waiting till the last minute to go inside. A homeless man named Clifton, who always
does the daily crossword puzzle leaning against the railing. A teenager walking by with about seven dogs on leads. A few mothers debating where they should go for coffee.

Dad kissed us good-bye.

“See you this afternoon, girls. Jane, you’re going home with Katie, right? And Billie, I’ll see you here at three-fifteen.”

“Bye, Dad. Good luck with your presentation. I hope they like the new name stuff. Love you …”

Harry was starting to wriggle. I had to take Jane to her classroom, but I didn’t want to take Harry, too, while he was so jumpy. Hubert, my savior, appeared at just the right moment.

“Hubert, do me a favor. Hold my backpack while I zoom up with Jane. Whatever you do, don’t put it down!” I handed it over, grabbed Jane’s hand, and turned to run.

“Hey! Good morning to you, too!” he called after me.

Jane wanted to show me her animal projects, so I had to coo over her beaver dam for a couple of minutes before I could gallop back to find Hubert.

He was lurking by the water fountain outside our class.

“Billie!” He has a knack of yelling and whispering at the same time. “You better tell me what’s going on. There’s something alive in here!”

He held my pack high in the air. Together we watched it jiggle and lurch as Harry tried to adjust to standing in midair.

“Yes, Billie,” said a horribly familiar voice behind us. “Why don’t you tell us what’s in your backpack?”

My stomach jumped and fell.

It was Alyssa, my arch enemy.

S
he was staring up at my pack with wheels of evil spinning in her brain. If she found out about Harry, I would be dog food.

“Ha, ha, ha, good joke, Hubert!” I shouted. “You are really getting good at this magic illusion stuff!”

I distinctly heard a small, frightened bark. I snatched my pack out of his hands and spun around to bump smack into Mr. Donaldson.

My face actually hit his chest. One of his buttons pressed into my forehead. His shirt smelled like meadow-scented fabric softener. How embarrassing!

“Oh, my God!” I heard Hubert say softly, under Alyssa’s squeaky cackle. Harry’s paws were scratching the inside of my bag.

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:

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.