My Best Friend Is Invisible Read Free Page A

he slept in here,” Sammy said. “And I want him out!”
    “What’s the big deal? Just leave him there.” I turned to the door.
    “Wait!” Simon yelled. “I can’t leave him there. I can’t!”
    “Why not?” I asked, confused.
    “Because I have to make my bed,” Simon answered.
    I stared hard at my brother. “What planet are you from?”
    “Sammy,” Simon whined. “I have to make my bed. Mom says.”
    “Just make the bed over him. Mom won’t notice the lump.”
    I returned to the kitchen a few seconds later. I sat down at the table.
    Mom peered over my shoulder. “Sammy, how did you finish your cereal so fast?”
    “Huh?”
    I stared down into my breakfast bowl.
    Totally empty!

 
 
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    “Someone—someone ate my cereal!” I stammered.
    “You’re right!” Mom gasped. “It must have been a ghost!”
    Mom and Dad laughed.
    I stared at the empty bowl—and the spoon.
    “Look!” I shouted. “Someone did eat my cereal. I have proof. The spoon—it’s on the left side of the bowl. I always put my spoon on the right side of
the bowl—because I’m right-handed. See?”
    I pointed to the spoon.
    To the proof.
    “Stop kidding around, Sammy. You’re going to be late for school.” Mom turned
to Dad. “We’d better get going too.”
    “Did you do it?” I asked Dad as he reached for his briefcase. “Did you
eat my cereal? Did you move the spoon? Was it a joke?”
    “You’re reading too many ghost stories,” Dad said. “Way too many.” Then he and Mom hurried off for work.
    For a few minutes, I sat at the kitchen table. Just sat there, staring into
my empty cereal bowl.
    Someone ate my cereal.
    I am not going crazy, I told myself.
    Someone ate my cereal.
    But who?
     
    “Sammy. Sammy.”
    Huh?
    “Sammy, would you like to tell us what is so fascinating outside?” Ms.
Starkling crossed her arms in front of her, waiting for my answer.
    A few kids giggled.
    I had been gazing out the classroom window. Thinking—about my window. My open bedroom window. And my disappearing cereal.
    “Uh—no. I mean, nothing,” I said. “I mean—I wasn’t looking at anything.”
    Some more giggles.
    “Sammy, come up to the chalkboard, please, and show the class how to finish
this equation.”
    “But it’s Roxanne’s turn,” I blurted out. “I mean, isn’t Roxanne supposed to
show the class today?”
    “Sammy, please.” Ms. Starkling tapped the chalkboard with a piece of chalk.
“Now.”
    I glanced at Roxanne. She just shrugged her shoulders.
    I was in big trouble.
    I didn’t do my math homework last night. And I didn’t do it this morning,
either—because Brutus didn’t wake me up on time.
    My temples pounded as I made my way to the front of the classroom. I walked
slowly. Staring at the equation. Trying to figure out how to solve it before I
got up there.
    I had no idea.
    Ms. Starkling handed me the piece of chalk.
    Silence fell over the classroom.
    I stared hard at the numbers on the board.
    My palms began to sweat.
    “Read the equation out loud,” Ms. Starkling suggested. She said it nicely.
But I could tell she was losing her patience.
    I read the equation out loud.
    It didn’t help.
    I lifted the chalk to the board, even though I still didn’t know what to do.
    I stared at the numbers some more.
    I heard the sounds of kids shifting impatiently in their seats.
    I placed the chalk against the board—and gasped.
    I felt something squeeze my hand. Something cold and wet.
    My knees started to shake.
    I felt hot breath right up against my face.
    I tried to step back—but I couldn’t move.
    Something squeezed my fingers tighter and tighter. Squeezed until it hurt.
    The breathing against my face grew more rapid—sharp gasps that stung my
cheeks.
    I wanted to pull free. But then my hand started to move across the
chalkboard.
    My hand was moving—and it started to write!
    Someone was writing numbers for me! Someone was holding my hand! Moving it!
Solving the equation!
    Someone I