Invisible

Ruthann Johnson

Two police officers were already there when Jerry arrived home from school. He stood in the entryway and listened as they talked to his parents. Kyle was missing—had been since the day before yesterday. Just an hour ago the police had found his car on a side street off the 101 Freeway. The windshield was smashed, the front end totaled, and his blood was found on the steering wheel and driver’s seat.  

 Jerry walked in a little farther hoping someone would notice him. No one did. It was a most peculiar thing, almost like an invisible cloak fell over him whenever he entered his home. Standing off to one side he watched, completely detached as his mother cried into a hanky and his father, stress lines pulled tight around his mouth, listened intently to what the policeman told him.  

Amazing, Jerry observed. Even the policemen didn’t see him. After about ten minutes, Jerry finally gave up and went into his room. He tossed his backpack on the floor and then fell onto his bed. Looking up at the ceiling, he listened to the muffled sounds of the conversation in the next room. He couldn’t understand what was said, and he was glad. He didn’t want to hear. 

Trying to take his mind off of Kyle, he rolled over and grabbed his backpack.  

Unzipping it, he pulled out his algebra book. He opened it, took out a pencil, and tried to finish the assignment he had started at school.  

His stomach hurt. Closing his algebra book, he set it on his nightstand, reached inside his pack, and pulled out The Two Towers. He’d seen all three Lord of The Rings movies with his friends, and loved them. Now he was reading the books to experience any parts that had been left out of the movies.  

He read about two pages before he set that on top of his nightstand. Also, his stomach began to cramp.  

Maybe I’m hungry, he thought, but it wasn’t until he heard the motor of the police car that he walked over and opened his door.  

His mother sat on the couch; her red flowered rayon dress seemed too sunny and bright for the moment. Pushing herself up on shaky legs, she teetered in her bright red high-heeled shoes. It bugged Jerry how vulnerable she looked, and he wished that she would just take the shoes off and stand steady. He paused, and for a few seconds he thought that she’d gotten up because he had come out of the room. But she wasn’t looking at him; she was looking in the entryway at his father. Small and thin, he hadn’t turned away from the door yet, and when he finally did turn, it almost made Jerry come undone. The defeated look on his father’s face left him frozen.  

“You!” His mother pointed her finger at her husband. “All this is because you  didn’t listen to me.” 

Tie still in place, shoes polished to a shine, suit pressed; his father looked like any other professional as he stepped into the living room. “Don’t start on me with your drunken rampage.”  

Jerry walked passed them and into the kitchen. No way was he going to be noticed now. He opened the freezer and took out a frozen burrito, put it on a plate, and set  it in the microwave. While it heated, he got a juice box from the cupboard.  

His mother’s voice filled the house with anger. “We had agreed that Kyle wouldn’t get a car until he straightened out. But you had to give in. You always give in.”  His father countered. “You would blame this on me, but when the ransom note comes in—it’ll be your money that they want. Car or no car, this would have happened  anyway.”  

“My fault?” His mother screeched. “Because I come from money?”  His father’s voice sounded disgusted. “I didn’t say that.”  

Jerry stepped out of the kitchen. He looked at them as he slowly walked passed,  but they didn’t turn toward him. In his bedroom, he set his food down, went back to his door, looked out, and then slammed it as hard as he could. 

***

“They won’t ask,” Kyle had told him.  

Jerry only shrugged.  

“They don’t see you,” he taunted. “You’re nothing but wallpaper.”  

Jerry showed him a blank face, but a lump had formed in his throat, and he fought back tears. “Mom is taking me to Europe in May for my birthday.” 

Kyle laughed. “She’s only doing that because she wants to go to that big fashion  

show in May. You know, the one Dad put his foot down on. He’s got some big case he’s researching, and he can’t go. He told her, because she’s drunk half the time, she’d get  herself into trouble.” He snorted. “Didn’t you hear the fight? The one where he threatened not to help her out again if she went, and she said she’d sleep with his boss,  Mr. Felton, the older one, and get all the legal help she needed. But I guess she decided to use you instead. Luggage; that’s all you are.”  

Jerry knew. In February, when he’d handed her his report card of all A’s and one  B, she had told him how proud she was of him, and had said she was going to take him to  Europe in May.  

“I don’t want to miss school,” Jerry told her. “Can we wait until mid-June?”  She’d smiled and shook her head. “No, I want to do it for your birthday. It has to  be May.”  

He didn’t want to go to Europe. Three days after his birthday, the high school band was going to Disneyland and they were going to march in the evening parade. What was in Europe? He wanted to be with his friends. Even if they weren’t going to  Disneyland, Jerry’s whole life was surrounded by his friends and activities at school. Just the thought of spending a month alone with his mother sent him into a panic, but he didn’t know how to get out of it without hurting her feelings, so he was going.  *  

Jerry looked at his food and felt like barfing. He balanced his plate on top of The Two Towers, and laid back down on his bed. 

His mother’s voice rose. “I don’t care how good his grades are, when Jerry turns sixteen next year, he will not get a car!”  

Jerry sat up—Kyle would ruin his chance to have his own car.  

“I’m not worried about Jerry right now,” his father said. “It’s Kyle that you should  have your mind on.” He huffed. “I wish the police would call and give us some sort of an update. The fingerprints should have told them something by now.”  

His mother began again, like a broken record. “That damn car. I should have listened to myself. I should have…”  

“Stop it!” His father interrupted. “We were going to have to learn to trust him sometime. He’s seventeen and a half. I thought it would be good for him to have a little independence.”  

“Independence?” Her voice had gone shrill. “He’s gone half the time. We didn’t even think anything of it when he didn’t show last night.”  

His father mumbled something.  

Jerry stood and started to pace. He walked over to his Lord of the Rings calendar. Gandalf the Gray was falling down the chasm that would resurrect him as Gandalf the White. He looked at the date. March 29th, March 30th, March 31st. Three more days.  Damn! Why did there have to be thirty-one days in this month?  

His mother screamed. “I want a divorce!”  

“Gladly,” his father answered.  

But Jerry knew it wouldn’t happen. They had been talking divorce ever since he could remember. Dad needed her money, and she needed his stability. He was a terrible trial lawyer, but had a decent job at a good firm where he mainly did research. The people at his firm had helped her get out of many scrapes. Disturbing the peace, three counts of drunk driving, but most recently, the death of that sixteen year old. The poor girl had just gotten her license. Amazingly, as drunk as she was, his mother hadn’t gone to jail. The young girl had been blamed for the wreck.  

He ran his hand through his hair, and looked around his room. An entertainment center with a PS2 and X-Box 360 sat under his bike that hung from a hook. A computer  and elaborate stereo system took up another corner, and a large walk in closet with so  many clothes and shoes in them he’d grown out of half of them before he could wear them, took up the farthest wall. Searching through his closet he pulled out a duffle bag  and began to fill it.  

When he walked out of the room, he was rolling his bike, backpack on his back,  duffle bag strapped on the bike rack.  

His mother and father stopped their arguing, and looked over at him.  His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Where do you think you’re going?”  

Jerry felt his courage falter, but he took in a deep breath and said, “That isn’t the question I want you to ask me.”  

His father’s brow furrowed. “What do you want us to ask you?”  

Jerry’s chin jutted out. “I promised not to say, unless you asked.”  

His father’s face paled. “Where is Kyle?” 

“At Darrel’s apartment; it’s supposed to be your April Fools joke.” He turned to his mother. “I’m not going to Europe with you. I want to go to Disneyland, and march in the parade; and I want to stay in school.”  

He wheeled his bike to the door. His parents stood rooted to the ground. 

“Where are you going?” his mother’s voice sounded small.  

Jerry opened the door first, then looked back at her. “I don’t know. I think I’ll see if I can stay the night at Gary’s, or maybe Kaleb’s. I haven’t asked anyone, yet.” 

He wheeled his bike outside, closed the door, and jumped on the seat. As he rode down the sidewalk, he had the strangest feeling that by opening that door, his cloak of invisibility had disintegrated. 

About the Author

Ruthann Johnson has been a stay-at-home mother of six until her youngest child started school. Then she worked for two different school districts for special needs children. At this time, she is focusing on her writing career. She has two middle-grade novels published, Silverwolf Chronicles: The Escape and Silverwolf Chronicles: The Not So Public Library.