needed her in order to stay invisible.
There was a problem, however. Cartoon was shining his flashlight toward the hallway as we slipped by. He caught us with the glare of his light—and saw our shadows, splashed on the far wall.
“Holy shit!” he said, not sure of what he was seeing, but certain it was weird. “Are you some kind of freaking ghost?”
I smiled and considered whispering his name, but I didn’t want him to freak out and start shooting at the “ghosts.” Instead, I pulled Jacqueline into the living room. Cartoon turned away, not able to see us, and searched the kitchen, banging around the furniture.
In the living room I met with an entirely new shock. A single dim light burned in the room, a naked bulb in a lamp. The lamp sat on top of a massive pile of small boxes. It took me a moment to realize what the boxes were: shoeboxes. Hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand. They filled the living room of the house and were stacked nearly to the ceiling. There were cats, too, two of them, climbing over the boxes like an artificial mountain.
I tried not to laugh, but failed. My sides began to hitch. Finally, I laughed aloud.
I felt a pinch in my side. “Shut up,” Jacqueline said. When I kept snorting with laughter, she said, “Okay, fine.”
I felt her hand slip out of mine. She was gone, and I was visible and standing there in the living room full of stolen shoes and hungry cats.
“Hey, not cool,” I whispered. “You’re the one who stole, like, a thousand shoes.”
She kicked me in the leg. I winced and rubbed at it. Having an argument with an invisible person was unpleasant. I found I kept squinting and wanting to duck.
“I’m giving them back!” she hissed. “All of them. I just wanted to show you before they were gone, and you don’t even care.”
I grimaced. Somehow, I’d come out of this as the bad guy. “How are you going to return them to the stores? They’ll be watching.”
“Yeah, I know can’t just drop them off at the stores. I’m giving them to every charity in town. People will at least have shoes.”
“What about the cats?”
“They’re mine. I brought them from home. Mom’s always going on trips and forgets to feed them.”
As if on cue, one of the cats began rubbing her chin on my leg, begging urgently. She had big green eyes that gazed up at me with great seriousness.
Cartoon walked out of the kitchen and stared. He ran the flashlight over me, grunting in recognition. He had a butcher knife in his other big, balled-up fist.
“You sure don’t know how to stay out of my business, do you?” he asked.
Caught red-handed, I decided to play it cool. “Sorry. I didn’t know this was your place. When did you move in?”
Cartoon stepped from one foot to the other uncertainly. “You
know
the crazy chick who lives here?”
“I certainly do. Jacqueline is my girlfriend. I’d heard she was looking for a roommate, but…” I looked over Cartoon doubtfully.
He stared at me for a moment, but slowly his eyes narrowed. “You’re full of crap,” he said, “but how did you get in here, anyway?”
“Through the front door.”
“No, I mean—I saw something…Never mind.” He looked confused, and I didn’t blame him. “Are you calling the cops, or what?”
“Should I be?”
“No,” he said. “No, I guess I could leave…But tell me why you came in here. This isn’t your girlfriend’s place. I’ve never seen you around.”
“Are you sure about that? Maybe we should just call the whole thing a misunderstanding and go our separate ways.”
“Okay then,
you
leave,” he said. I saw a stubborn look growing on his face.
I frowned. I’d expected him to take his opportunity to avoid the cops and run out of the place. But he clearly didn’t want to budge. “Why are you here, anyway? Are you planning to open your own shoe store?”
He laughed at that. “Yeah, mostly size six, too. No, I uh…I saw something outside.”
I eyed him for a moment. His
There was a problem, however. Cartoon was shining his flashlight toward the hallway as we slipped by. He caught us with the glare of his light—and saw our shadows, splashed on the far wall.
“Holy shit!” he said, not sure of what he was seeing, but certain it was weird. “Are you some kind of freaking ghost?”
I smiled and considered whispering his name, but I didn’t want him to freak out and start shooting at the “ghosts.” Instead, I pulled Jacqueline into the living room. Cartoon turned away, not able to see us, and searched the kitchen, banging around the furniture.
In the living room I met with an entirely new shock. A single dim light burned in the room, a naked bulb in a lamp. The lamp sat on top of a massive pile of small boxes. It took me a moment to realize what the boxes were: shoeboxes. Hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand. They filled the living room of the house and were stacked nearly to the ceiling. There were cats, too, two of them, climbing over the boxes like an artificial mountain.
I tried not to laugh, but failed. My sides began to hitch. Finally, I laughed aloud.
I felt a pinch in my side. “Shut up,” Jacqueline said. When I kept snorting with laughter, she said, “Okay, fine.”
I felt her hand slip out of mine. She was gone, and I was visible and standing there in the living room full of stolen shoes and hungry cats.
“Hey, not cool,” I whispered. “You’re the one who stole, like, a thousand shoes.”
She kicked me in the leg. I winced and rubbed at it. Having an argument with an invisible person was unpleasant. I found I kept squinting and wanting to duck.
“I’m giving them back!” she hissed. “All of them. I just wanted to show you before they were gone, and you don’t even care.”
I grimaced. Somehow, I’d come out of this as the bad guy. “How are you going to return them to the stores? They’ll be watching.”
“Yeah, I know can’t just drop them off at the stores. I’m giving them to every charity in town. People will at least have shoes.”
“What about the cats?”
“They’re mine. I brought them from home. Mom’s always going on trips and forgets to feed them.”
As if on cue, one of the cats began rubbing her chin on my leg, begging urgently. She had big green eyes that gazed up at me with great seriousness.
Cartoon walked out of the kitchen and stared. He ran the flashlight over me, grunting in recognition. He had a butcher knife in his other big, balled-up fist.
“You sure don’t know how to stay out of my business, do you?” he asked.
Caught red-handed, I decided to play it cool. “Sorry. I didn’t know this was your place. When did you move in?”
Cartoon stepped from one foot to the other uncertainly. “You
know
the crazy chick who lives here?”
“I certainly do. Jacqueline is my girlfriend. I’d heard she was looking for a roommate, but…” I looked over Cartoon doubtfully.
He stared at me for a moment, but slowly his eyes narrowed. “You’re full of crap,” he said, “but how did you get in here, anyway?”
“Through the front door.”
“No, I mean—I saw something…Never mind.” He looked confused, and I didn’t blame him. “Are you calling the cops, or what?”
“Should I be?”
“No,” he said. “No, I guess I could leave…But tell me why you came in here. This isn’t your girlfriend’s place. I’ve never seen you around.”
“Are you sure about that? Maybe we should just call the whole thing a misunderstanding and go our separate ways.”
“Okay then,
you
leave,” he said. I saw a stubborn look growing on his face.
I frowned. I’d expected him to take his opportunity to avoid the cops and run out of the place. But he clearly didn’t want to budge. “Why are you here, anyway? Are you planning to open your own shoe store?”
He laughed at that. “Yeah, mostly size six, too. No, I uh…I saw something outside.”
I eyed him for a moment. His
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