Invisible Page 3

  Chapter 1

  Invisible

  (Olivia)

   

  My best friend is not imaginary. He’s not a ghost, either. And I’m pretty sure he isn’t a hallucination. He’s just Mason.

  He is, however, invisible.

  Zipping up my jeans as I stumble into my tennis shoes, I shuffle out of my room. By the time I reach the bathroom, I have both feet solidly in my shoes, even if the laces remain untied. One jiggle of the doorknob sets me to growling. Locked. My eyes dash to my sister, Evie’s, door, only to find her making her way down the hall herself. Her hair is sticking up in all sorts of wild ways, so it’s pretty safe to assume she hasn’t seen the inside of the bathroom yet, either.

  “Mason?” she asks, stifling a yawn.

  “Who else?” I grouch.

  Evie giggles. “You know, for someone who’s invisible, he sure does worry a lot about how he looks.”

  My little sister was the first person in my family to admit Mason was real. My mom and dad passed off my new friend as typical five-year-old stuff. Mom thought it was cute when I asked for extra snacks to share with Mason. Dad didn’t even hesitate when I asked if Mason could sleep in my room with me. Evie was only three when Mason first showed up, but she took to him right away. She thought it was great fun to watch him move things and make the cat fly. Really, he was just carrying the cat around in his arms, but since Evie can’t see Mason, to her it looked like everything he touched could float.

  I’ve always wondered why Mason’s clothes disappear when he puts them on, but the cat never did. He can put something in his pocket and it vanishes, but if he just holds it, it floats. Mason doesn’t know either. I think it must be something he’s doing without realizing, but Mason disagrees. As far as he knows, that’s just how it’s meant to work. Since he’s the invisible one and I’m not, it’s hard to argue with him.

  “Mason!” I yell as I pound on the door. “Hurry up!”

  I hear a muffled response, that I’m sure was not an apology for hogging the bathroom. I sigh and reach for the key. My fingers brush along the door frame for the simple metal shaft that acts as a rather low-tech key. Finally finding it, I shove the key into the lock and poke around until the door finally opens. Evie stalks in dutifully.

  Five seconds later, Mason howls as the shower water turns ice cold. Evie pops her head back out. “Did I get him?” she asks.

  Evie can’t hear Mason, either. Nobody but me can, not unless he’s touching them. And even then, they have to have accepted his presence as reality in order to hear him. I don’t know why that works, but it does. I learned a while ago to just accept the bizarreness that comes with Mason.

  Laughing, I nod. “Yeah, you got him.”

  Evie jumps out of the doorway, and just in time. Mason stalks out soon after with a towel slung around his waist. His eyes fasten onto me. The snarly expression on his face doesn’t faze me. “That was low, Olivia Lynn Mallory.”

  Ooh, he used my full name. I’m so not scared. “Quit hogging the bathroom.”

  “I was in the shower!” Mason snaps. “Naked!”

  I try not to laugh. I fail. “It’s not like she saw anything!”

  Mason bristles. “So! It’s the principle of the thing. I deserve some privacy!”

  “You have all the privacy in the world,” I laugh. “What you don’t have is the bathroom to yourself.”

  Evie and I both push past him and grab for our toothbrushes. I’m the only one who can hear Mason muttering under his breath as he storms away, but Evie can imagine his response well enough and giggles along with me.

  When our toothbrushes are both back in the holder, I turn to Evie and say, “Don’t mention that to Dad, okay?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Evie says.

  My little sister moves on to curling her hair as I fish around for my makeup. We may look alike with matching blonde hair and green eyes, but our tastes in hairstyles are vastly different. Evie’s locks turn into gorgeous spirals while I spray on a leave in conditioner to get mine straight and frizz free. As we get ready, I can’t help but think about how much my dad has changed when it comes to Mason.

  He was the last one to admit Mason was real. I had been out in the backyard when I was about eight years old, tossing a Frisbee back and forth with Mason. I’m not sure how long Dad stood there watching, trying to figure out how the Frisbee was stopping in midair and flinging itself back to me. It must have been long enough for him to see the implications. The good and the bad.

  The good included Dad getting to have a son. Not that he didn’t love his two daughters, but I think all dads want a son no matter what they say. There is something strangely fulfilling in playing catch—which is something Dad and Mason do on a regular basis now.

  The bad had to do with Dad realizing that when I asked three years earlier if Mason could sleep in my room with me, and he had said yes, he hadn’t just been playing pretend with me. Not that anyone worried about what Mason and I were doing at night at eight years old, but well… we wouldn’t be eight forever. The spare bedroom got cleaned out the next day.

  Now, eight years later, we’re all sitting down at the breakfast table. Mom dishes out five, rather than four, plates of fried eggs and sliced cantaloupe like normal. Nobody bats an eye when it looks like a fork is spearing fruit pieces all by itself. This is totally normal for us, but we don’t have people over for dinner very often.

  “Evie, did you finish your algebra homework?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, Mason helped me with the last few problems.”

  Mom smiles at Mason—well in his general direction, anyway. “What about you two?” she asks Mason and I. “Did you finish your reports on The Federalist Papers?”

  “Mason’s is on your desk, and mine is in my backpack,” I answer for the both of us.

  You would think being invisible would get you out of homework. Not so. Once Mom quit freaking out about seeing Mason toss Evie in the air, she decided that if he was real, he was going to be treated just like her other children. He is required to sit through all my classes and turn in assignments. The only difference is, Mom grades his homework instead of my teachers.

  Dad looks up from his phone, where he was reading the morning’s most urgent emails, and says, “I have a couple of clients coming over this evening for dinner.”

  Mason’s body tenses in response to this news. I’m the only one who notices. I reach over to pat Mason’s knee reassuringly, but he pulls away. Frowning at his response, I turn back to Dad.

  “Mason, you’re excused from dinner tonight.”

  That only causes him to become even more glum.

  “Olivia, you’re excused as well,” Dad says, surprising both me and Mason. Dad hands over two crisp twenty dollar bills. “Have fun tonight, but please stay out of trouble.”

  Evie chuckles along with us at the memory of the incident Dad is referring to. We really didn’t think anyone else would be at the driving range that late. Mason just wanted to hit a few balls. None of us realized the attendant could see what we were doing. Poor guy.

  “Thanks, Dad. We’ll be good. I promise.” I take the cash and stuff it in my back pocket.

  Evie screws her face up in annoyance. “Why can’t I be excused too? Your dinner meetings are boring.”

  “Because little girls who ditch class don’t get to go anywhere,” Mom reminds her.

  That sets Evie to scowling. It’s just a good thing Mom and Dad didn’t discover that the reason Evie skipped out on history was so she could make out with her boyfriend. At fourteen, Evie is not supposed to have a boyfriend. At seventeen, I’ve been allowed for a while now, but that doesn’t mean Dad is all that keen on the idea. Luckily for him, I’m not all that social. I have Mason.

  I drop my dishes off in the sink and tug on Evie’s hair as I pass back by. “Come on, grouchy. We better get going or we’ll be late. Mason …” I say, turning to ask him a question. My voice drops off as
I see his backside retreating out of the kitchen without a word. Huh.

  A few minutes later, Evie and I head for my grumbly, creaky Cherokee. My parents can afford better, but Dad is an insurance executive, and he knows all the statistics of teenager drivers by heart. Not to mention the premiums. I get a safe, but not very cool car. He gets peace of mind and decent rates. I pull my door open and find Mason in the passenger’s seat, which is actually kind of weird. He usually tries to talk me into letting him drive.

  Not sure what to make of that, I climb in and pull out of the driveway. The drive to school is only about fifteen minutes. It passes in silence. Another oddity. Mason is a total chatterbox on normal days. When I pull into a parking space, Evie hops out and heads for Aaron Chaplin, her not-so-secret boyfriend. Mason makes a move to leave, but I grab his arm before he can.

  “Hey, what’s with you this morning?”

  Mason shakes me off and reaches for the door handle. I grab for him again, missing his arm, but snagging his hand instead. Mason stops trying to get away, but he doesn’t look at me.

  “Mason, what’s wrong?”

  For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me, then, his eyes snap up to mine. “Stop treating me like a freak, Olivia.”

  The heat of his accusation startles me. So do his words. “What?”

  “I’m tired of being less than everyone else,” he snaps.

  “Mason, what are you talking about?” The anger that flashes in his eyes is reflected in how he tosses my hand away from him.

  He’s really angry, I realize in shock. Mason never gets mad. Taking advantage of my surprise, he bails. He’s out of the Cherokee and slamming the door shut before I can move. It takes some effort to come out of my stupor and follow him. My brain catches up with him along with my feet a few seconds later.

  “Mason, wait,” I say as I catch his arm. “Is this about this morning in the bathroom?”

  He doesn’t answer, but the way his shoulders bunch up is answer enough. “Don’t do that again.”

  “I won’t,” I say quickly. “I was just playing around. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “Well, how would you like it if someone barged in on you in the shower?”

  It takes me a few minutes to answer. “But, she couldn’t see you, Mason. I wouldn’t have done it if she could.”

  “Exactly,” he snaps.

  Shaking my head, I try to make sense of his anger. “Are you mad about her turning the shower cold, or bursting in on you?”

  “I was naked! As in no clothes on. I don’t care that she can’t see me. It’s no different than if she could.”

  “Uh, yeah it is, Mason. I never would have sent Evie in if she could see you.”

  Mason’s hands shove deep down into his jeans pockets. “I don’t want it to be different,” he growls.

  Suddenly, things start making sense. Mason doesn’t pull away when I step closer to him and take his hand in mine. He has always been so good natured about being who he is. He was always willing to play a part in a well devised practical joke. He loves freaking people out. Halloween is his favorite time of year. But there have been times when I wondered if any of it bothered him.

  “It wasn’t just this morning,” Mason says more quietly. “It’s dinner, too.”

  “We get a pass on a boring business dinner,” I say, trying to sound chipper. “There’s this movie …”

  Mason interrupts, saying, “It’s the reason behind everything, okay? No, I don’t want to sit through a discussion about insurance premiums. I know Evie didn’t see anything this morning. But both happened because I’m different.”

  I don’t want to sound accusing, or obnoxious, but I don’t get why this is all boiling to the surface right now. “Mason, what’s going on? None of this kind of stuff has ever bothered you before.”

  “I know,” he says with a sigh. “I love you and Evie and your parents, but …”

  “But what?” I ask.

  “Sometimes I get tired of being the guy nobody can see.”

  Whatever I might have said to that, it gets stuffed back down my throat as we’re both ran into from behind. Mason catches me when I stumble, and we both turn around to find the culprit. A tall, lanky girl with wispy brown hair and bright, red-framed glasses is stumbling back to her feet as well.

  “I’m so sorry!” she gasps. “I’m totally lost. Can you tell me where the office is?”

  “Uh, it’s the first building on the right. It’s not attached to the rest of the school.”

  “Thanks a bunch,” she says with a laugh. A small shift in posture sends her bag sliding off her shoulder, which nearly sends the books in her arms scattering. It takes her a moment to get everything back under control. She clutches her belongings a little more tightly and looks back up, still smiling. “I’ve been wandering the halls for twenty minutes. Then someone told me to go back outside. I’m a mess.”

  At least I wasn’t the one who said it. I glance at Mason sideways. The way he’s trying not to laugh makes it even harder for me to keep a straight face. I turn back to the girl, who immediately sticks her hand out to me.

  “I’m Robin Montgomery, by the way,” she says happily.

  “Olivia Mallory,” I say as we shake hands.

  Our hands part ways, and then she does something completely unexpected.

  Robin sticks her hand out directly in front of Mason and says, “And you are?”

  Stunned is not a strong enough word to describe the look on Mason’s face. I’m pretty sure my jaw is sitting on my shoes.

  My, “You can see him?” is compounded with Mason’s, “You can see me?”

  Robin’s grin freezes. Her extended hand drops away slowly. She glances between us looking confused. “Uh, yeah.”

  “You can see me?” Mason repeats, clearly doubtful.

  Hugging her books a little tighter, Robin shrugs. “Is this some kind of new kid trick? If it is, at least it’s original. I’ve got plenty of experience with being the new kid, but I’ve never had anyone pretend I’m seeing things before.”

  “What do I look like?” Mason demands.

  Robin shrugs, apparently willing to play along. “Okay, you’ve got reddish-gold hair that’s longish, but not too long. You’re eyes are blue, but super dark, and they have this awesome silver color right around the pupil. That’s really neat! Do you wear special contacts?”

  Neither of us answers, too surprised by her accuracy and detail.

  Continuing, Robin says, “You’re pretty tall, well taller than me, anyway. You look like you might play soccer…or maybe baseball, judging by your build. And you’re totally hot, just in case you didn’t already know that.”

  That last comment breaks Mason out of his stupor, bringing on a grin. “I like this girl. Can we keep her?”

  “Does that mean I passed the test… or game? Whatever this thing was?” Robin asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, still a little shaken, “you passed.”

  Robin’s giggle brings another smile to Mason’s lips. He extends his hand again. “I’m Mason, by the way.”

  They shake hands, their eyes glued to each other in a way I find myself just a bit irritated by. The feeling only intensifies when Robin looks over at me and says, “Please tell me Mason isn’t your boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” I say, nearly laughing. “No, he’s my …”

  I struggle to find a word that explains what Mason is to me. Robin waits patiently for me to finish confirming Mason is single and up for grabs. Mason, oddly enough, has stopped ogling Robin, and is now staring at me rather intently. The sudden pressure to define Mason’s role in my life makes me falter and stumble through a rather incoherent answer.

  “Mason’s my brother, well, kind of… I mean he’s not really, but he’s my, um, best friend. You know what I mean?”

  “Uh, sure?” Robin says. No way she understood my rambling, but I think she gathered enough to determine Mason isn
’t my boyfriend, so she seems happy enough.

  I glance over at Mason for help. The sadness echoed in his eyes startles me. He turns away to listen to whatever Robin is now saying, leaving me confused and hurt. Did I not give the right answer? I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings, but I’ve never had to explain Mason to anyone outside my family before. I think of him as my brother, but I know he’s really not. I stand there feeling like a jerk as understanding hits me. Right after he confessed his frustration about being different, I have to point out that he is the odd man out in our family. Why didn’t I just say he was my brother and leave it at that?

   Robin’s sudden gasp brings me out of my thoughts. I’m surprised to see her hands pawing at Mason’s neck. I step forward, wondering what has her so worked up, but all I see is the weird birthmark Mason has always had. The trail of pigment that looks something like a meandering stream isn’t your typical blotchy birthmark, but it’s certainly not worth practically crawling up Mason’s body to get a better look!

  I step forward to get this strange girl off Mason, but she finally snaps her hands away and gapes at him.

  “Oh my gosh! You weren’t kidding, were you? You really were surprised I could see Mason!” she squeaks. “I had no idea! Why didn’t you just tell me Mason is an Aerling?”