The Invisible Harry (7 page)

I rubbed his head while I tackled my first worksheet. We had to find definitions for big words from the text we’d read in class.

Indignant
. That was an easy one, since I feel it ten times a day. I kept stroking Harry while I flipped the pages of the dictionary for the official meaning:
angry at something unworthy, unjust, or mean
.

Yearning
. Oh, dear.
A longing or desire; desire earnestly.
I was overcome suddenly with an earnest desire to see Harry. I imagined him in the last position I’d actually seen him, with his paws folded over his nose. I yearned for him.

I pulled up the stopper on my water bottle and had a drink. Harry’s panting became louder, and I could feel those oversize paws trying to stand up on my knees. I tipped the bottle and squirted a dribble of water in the general direction of his mouth so that he’d get the idea. I guess I was thinking he could suck it like a baby, but instead, he chewed on the end.

I held the bottle up higher and squirted again. This time, he opened his mouth and
started to drink as I released a tiny stream. It dropped through the air and disappeared into his mouth.

“What a clever boy you are,” I said, nuzzling his ear. “I should take you on TV. We could get rich.”

“How did you do that?” Jane’s whisper made me jump nearly out of my jeans. “Will you show me that magic trick?”

H
arry, still thirsty, barked once.

Jane stared at me, and I watched the clues fall into place in her ever-busy brain.

“You took Jody’s puppy and made him imaginary. Didn’t you?”

Her face was amazed and delighted. She had figured out the truth because it didn’t
occur to her that it was impossible to have an invisible dog. I could have opened a drawer and introduced her to the Tooth Fairy and she would say, “Nice to meet you.”

“What’s his name? Do you still call him Boy?”

“His name is Harry.”

“Hairy? Yuck. I don’t like that.”

“Too bad. He’s my dog and don’t ever forget it.”

“Does Daddy know?”

Uh-oh. Blabbermouth alert.

“Jane, you cannot say one word. I promise you, I’ll give you anything you want, except my Anne of Green Gables T-shirt. This is top secret. A special, um, Sisters’ Club secret! I’ll let him sleep on your bed for one whole hour, but you can’t tell Dad, or Mom either.”

Jane’s eyes were flickering. I could see her calculating the extent of her power. Luckily a six-year-old doesn’t have the same range of vision that I have.

“He has to sleep on my bed all night, plus
you have to give me your face paints that you got from Uncle John.”

“He can sleep on your bed until you go to sleep, how about? And—”

“And I get your face paints.”

“Okay, you drive a hard bargain,” I agreed. She fell for that trick without any trouble. The face paints were stupid; they had Pocahontas on the lid. I was going to give them to her anyway.

“Can we dress him up? In Nonnie’s clothes?” Nonnie was her doll.

“No! He’s a dog! He’s dignified!”

Jane came bounding forward, ready to play. Harry jumped off my lap and skittered away across the room, knocking over the Lego tower and ending up somewhere under the computer table.

“Jane! You ninny! You scared him!”

“I was only trying—”

“You are such an idiot! You—” I didn’t have time to finish. Harry must have barreled out
from under the table full speed because Jane suddenly fell backward with her arms flapping in the air. She was so surprised, her mouth looked like a doughnut. I burst out laughing, and then she did, too, even though she got up rubbing her bottom.

The next thing we knew, Harry was scampering out of our room and clattering his nails across the wooden floor of the living area.

We raced after him, trying to reach him before he got as far as the kitchen. I jumped ahead of where we thought he might be. The rag rug slid magically toward me like a flying carpet and then stopped dead as we heard his nails again, clacking under the dining table. He was foraging for food and did a better job than the vacuum cleaner. Crumbs and Cheerios vanished into thin air. Jane scraped a chair on the floor, moving it out of the way for better access. The noise must have scared him because he thudded over my sneaker in his move toward the kitchen.

Dad had the portable phone tucked against his ear as he poked through the refrigerator.

“Hey!” He hopped forward as if he’d been bumped from behind, knocking his head into the milk carton. The carton jumped from the shelf and began to leak through the folded top, all over Dad’s loafers.

I dove to the floor, ready to take the blame for Harry. Jane threw a sponge from the sink that hit my head, as furry feet scrambled across my arm. My father was still talking, using the most tense, polite voice I ever heard. He swatted me away and shushed us, pointing to the phone.

Harry dodged me and went tearing back to our end of the loft, with his panting gathering steam. We galloped behind.

Then he barked. He liked this game. He barked again.

I had no choice. I followed Hubert’s example and set to howling, like a pack of huskies dragging a sled across the tundra.

“Hey, you even had him in the restaurant with Daddy, didn’t you?” Jane giggled.

“Turn down the volume, please, Billie,” my father called, his voice barely containing his fury. “I’m on the phone with work.”

Jane started to bark, too, adding little snarls and nearly choking with laughter at the same time.

“Girls! I’m trying to concentrate!” Suddenly, Dad was there, standing in front of us, tapping the phone against his palm. Harry wasn’t stopping, so we couldn’t either.

“Do you mind telling me just what the heck is going on?” my father demanded. “I had to tell my client I’d call him back.”

I pressed my thumb, in a reminderly kind of way, between Jane’s shoulder blades, and kept barking.

“Well, Daddy, woof,” said Jane, “We, woof, have a new Sisters’ Club, woof, and to join it, woof, we have to bark for five minutes without stopping, woof, woof.”

My father shook his head in despair, plugged his ears, and walked back to the kitchen.

I knew Harry wouldn’t stop unless we stopped, but we couldn’t stop unless he did. It was kind of a never-ending circle. I crawled around on the floor until I found him. I carried him to Jane’s lower bunk, pressing his face into my chest. The barking subsided, and the heavy panting took over. Finally, we had quiet. Jane and I stroked his back until he fell asleep.

The phone rang.

“Billie! Get the phone!” my father yelled.

“Why can’t you?” I yelled back, making Harry twitch and startle.

“Sssh!” whispered Jane.

The phone rang again.

I slid off the bed and went to the kitchen.

“You’re standing right there!” I complained. “Why do I have to get up?”

The phone rang again.

“It’s not my phone,” said my father, shrugging. “It feels weird.” I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey, it’s Mom.”

“Oh, hi, Mom.”

“See?” said Dad.

I
want to talk to Mommy!” Jane tried to shout in a whisper as she hurtled toward me. “Let me talk to Mommy!” She grabbed at the receiver.

I tortured her for two seconds, holding it above her head. Then I gave in, before she collapsed with yearning.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said in her most annoying baby voice. How could she be so funny and
big-kid one moment and such a baby brat the next?

I looked at Dad and rolled my eyes.

“I miss you, Mommy. Did you get me some bookmarks at the conference?” Jane smiled up at me and nodded, as if I cared.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Uh-huh.”

“The word is ‘yes,’” I hissed.

“Okay, Mommy.” She started to pass me the phone and then remembered something.

“Oh!” she added, smirking at me. “I know something you don’t know—”

“My turn!” I snatched the phone out of her hand. “Hi, Mom. How’s the conference going?”

“Oh, it’s great. Lots of wonderful new books this season. Listen, Jane seems to be missing me. Could you make an extra effort to be a backup mommy while I’m gone?”

“Dad’s here. He’s her father.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“You should give him a chance, Mom.”

There was a beat of silence and then her perky voice.

“How are things there? Any news?”

Oh, just an invisible puppy.

“Not really. I mean, there is something, sort of, that I should maybe, I don’t know, talk over with you, but it can wait.”

“Is it a scary thing? Or important? I have time to listen now, honey.”

“Uh, no, nothing special, it can wait.”

“Well, okay. Moms miss kids, too, you know.”

A thought of Pepper flashed through my mind.

“Remember, honey, I love you every minute, every day.”

She always says that. Always. But this was the first time that I completely knew what she meant. I’d been loving Harry every minute since he first climbed out of Jody’s bag. I surprised her with an answer.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

“Thank you, honey.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, in time to see your medieval pageant. How’s it going with your father?”

I hate it when she calls him that.

“Are you having a pizza?”

“No, Mom, he’s actually cooking.”

I could see Dad shake his head in disbelief that she would think otherwise.

“Really? That’s great. Let me talk to him for a second. Bye, now.”

I lingered, hoping to hear their conversation, but Dad just mumbled a few words and then hung up. He went back to cooking without glancing at me.

“Janie,” he said, “come and be my special helper, okay? I’ll teach you to use the can opener.”

Big step in father-daughter bonding, I thought.

I went to make sure Harry was still napping.
Jane had covered him with Nonnie’s blanket, which was rising and falling with his every breath.

I had a job to do. While Hubert was chewing gum over at his house, I had to concoct “teas” out of powdered goat horn and chrysanthemum petals.

Toting the brown paper bag from Lin Hop Sisters, and two old Sippy-Cups with snap-on lids, I went to the bathroom. I was grateful for the garlic that Dad was sautéing. Chrysanthemums, mixed with a little hot water and set to soaking, sure let off a dose of bad smell.

Harry was not on the bed when I got back. The doll’s quilt was on the floor. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Swallowing panic, I stood still and listened. Sure enough, a gnawing noise was coming from under Jane’s bed, where Harry was trying to remove the doll shoes that Jane had put on his feet while I was on the phone.

If only I could keep him. But maybe my mother was right. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to look after someone else without messing up.

I
’m not sure if I slept in between nightmares, but I don’t think so. I had a dream about rolling onto Harry and squashing him to death, I had a dream about Alyssa turning into a giant pit bull terrier and gnawing my arm off, and I had another dream where Hubert was screaming at me in Chinese, from the top of a water tower.

I felt like I was sleepwalking, getting ready for school. I slipped Harry a couple of dog biscuits and then had to fake a coughing attack to cover up the crunching.

On Bleecker Street, with only a few minutes left of Harry and my father sharing the same territory, Jane started to sing, to the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

“Jane.” I kept my voice even. She would not feel any need for loyalty if I were beating her up, which is what I wanted to do. My father commented that there was nothing better than a bright October day. So far, he was not paying attention to us.

“Jane,” I said, trying to imitate that special tone that the principal uses to stop kids from running in the hall.

She stopped singing to concentrate on sidestepping somebody else’s dog’s poop, and then looked up at me with the smile of an innocent angel.

“Yes, Sister Dearest?” she inquired.

“Consider yourself face-paintless, as well as strangled, if you so much as peep.”

Jane glanced at my father, who was three or four steps ahead of us, actually whistling! Because the sun was shining and he was taking the morning off work, using fatherly duty as an excuse.

“Woof,” said Jane.

I squinted at my demon sister and drew a finger across my throat.

We got to school before I killed her.

Hubert was waiting on the steps. My father took Jane and started in.

“I’ll come to your class and wave good-bye,”
he said to me. “I haven’t seen George Donaldson in a couple of years.”

I wasn’t listening. Soon we’d we safely inside.