My Best Friend Is Invisible by R. L. Stine Page A

it you, Simon?”
    “Of course not,” Simon answered.
    Of course not. Simon’s favorite words.
    Simon—do you want to watch TV? Of course not. Want to play ball? Of course not. Want to hear a joke? Of course not.
    Simon would never laugh at Mom.
    Simon did only serious things.
    Simon—the Serious Mutant.
    Mom turned to me and let out a long sigh. She returned to the table with my
plate. Refilled. With lots more string beans. Great.
    Disappear. Disappear. I stared at my string beans and chanted silently.
Last week I read a story about a kid who could make things disappear just by
concentrating hard.
    It wasn’t working for me.
    “I can’t wait for Saturday to come,” I said, burying the string beans under
the spaghetti.
    “Why?” Simon was the only one who asked.
    “I’m going to see School Spirit ,” I told him.
    “School spirit?” Dad glanced up from his napkin chart, his eyes finally wide
with interest. “School spirit is great! Who has school spirit?”
    “Nobody, Dad. School Spirit is the name of a new movie. It’s about a
ghost that haunts an old boarding school,” I explained. “I’m going to see it on
Saturday.”
    Dad placed his pencil down. “I wish you were more interested in real science, Sammy. I think real science is even stranger than the fantasy stuff you
like.”
    “But ghosts are real, Dad!”
    “Your dad and I are scientists, Sammy,” Mom said. “We don’t believe in things
like ghosts.”
    “Well, you’re wrong,” I declared. “If ghosts don’t exist, why have there been
stories about them for hundreds of years?
    “Besides, this movie isn’t fantasy stuff,” I told them. “It’s a true story.
Real kids were interviewed for it. Kids who swear they saw the ghost in school!”
    Mom shook her head.
    Dad chuckled. “What are you doing in school, Simon? Seen any ghosts lately?”
    “Of course not,” Simon replied. “I’m starting my science project this week.
It’s called: How Fast Do We Grow? I’m going to study myself for six
months. And make a growth graph for every part of my body.”
    “That’s wonderful!” Mom said.
    “Very original!” Dad exclaimed. “Let us know if we can help.”
    “Oh, brother,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “Can I be excused?” I pushed my
chair away from the table. “Roxanne is coming over to do math homework.”
    Roxanne Johnson and I are both in the same seventh-grade class. We like to
compete against each other. Just for fun.
    At least, I think it’s for fun. Sometimes I’m not sure what Roxanne
thinks.
    Anyway, she’s one of my best friends. She likes science fiction too. We planned to see School Spirit together.
    I went upstairs to search for my math book.
    I opened the door to my room.
    I stepped inside—and gasped.

 
 
2
     
     
    My homework papers lay scattered all over the floor.
    I’m not exactly the neatest kid in the world—but I do not throw my homework
on the floor.
    Not usually, anyway.
    Well, at least not today.
    Brutus—my orange cat—sat in the middle of the mess, with his head buried
underneath the pile of papers.
    “Brutus—did you do this?” I demanded. Brutus jerked his head up. He glanced
at me—then darted under my bed to hide.
    Hmmm. That’s weird, I thought. Brutus actually looks scared. That is
definitely weird.
    Brutus never hides from anything. In fact, he’s the meanest cat in the
neighborhood. Every kid on the block has been scratched by Brutus—at least
once.
    I looked at the window. It was open. The light-blue curtains billowed in the
breeze.
    I gathered my papers from the floor. The wind probably blew them off my desk,
I guessed.
    Wait a minute. Something was wrong.
    I stared at the window.
    I could swear I left that window closed.
    But I couldn’t have. I mean, there it was—wide-open.
    “What are you looking at?” Roxanne stepped into my room.
    “Something weird is going on here,” I told her, shutting the window. “I
closed this before dinner. Now it’s