Invisible Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the right. Annie does a lousy imitation of an owl. Another lousy owl hoots back. Annie giggles and says, “Leslie is hilarious.”
    We start down the dirt path splashed with pebbles. Annie pulls out a tiny flashlight from her pocket and snaps it on, letting the thin ray of light bounce over her pink-painted toes in supple brown sandals.
    I’m ashamed of my blue tennis shoes that are slightly curled at the toes because I had to put them in the dryer after I got caught in the rain. I hope she doesn’t shine the light on them. I point ahead to distract her. “That way?” I ask.
    “Righto, Watson,” she says and I wonder if she meant to say, “Righto, Livingston.”
    She walks quickly and I follow, although it’s hard because I can’t see any of the light from the flashlight on the ground in front of me. I can only follow the dim shadows of her legs.
    The wind is strong. A bug flies into my eye. I blink furiously, following Annie’s legs up to her blue jean shorts and gleaming white T-shirt. I suddenly hate the shorts and shirt I have on and find it unbearable to be seen in them when I meet her gang. With new clarity I see my outfit as something her little sister, Megan, would wear, red shorts with a matching red-and-white-striped shirt, except it’s so faded that the white stripes look gray. It was a hand-me-down from one of my older cousins. Even though my mom always had fancy new clothes, there was no point in wasting money on me. I once heard her tell my aunt Clare that she could dress me in boys’ clothes for all the difference it would make.
    We’re twisting and turning up the path when there’s a rustling in the bushes ahead of us. Annie turns around and whispers, “Coyotes.”
    I’m shocked but excited. I anticipate a circle around us with cruel fangs and yellow eyes. Annie picks up a branch and lunges low at the bush. Scurrying feet scratch. I look around for another branch to defend myself and she says, “They’re gone. Total wimps.”
    She laughs a throaty woman’s laugh, and I see her perfect teeth shimmer against the soft outline of her tan face. Without seeing her eyes clearly I know they widen when she says, “Let’s tell everyone we’re real cousins.”
    For a moment I’m stunned by her generosity, and then the moon flickers and I see my short shadow next to her tall one and realize the fun she’ll have at her friends’ outbursts of disbelief because of our contrast. The “no ways!” because of her aura of gold and my immigrant-looking darkness. There’s another owl hoot and Annie suddenly turns off the path and presses through a lattice of branches, one of which slaps back at me, landing a stinging blow on my cheek.
    “Ow,” I cry out, tears springing into my eyes.
    She turns quickly to me. “Omigod, did that get you?” She shines the flashlight on my cheek. “I’m such an idiot,” she says, running her finger over what I imagine to be a ferocious welt.
    Under her examination, my hostility fades. She’s very attentive with her mouth pressed into a line of concentration. She takes her finger from my face, grabs me around the shoulder in a hard hug and says, “Sorry, cuz, can you ever forgive me?”
    I’m embarrassed but delighted to be the source of so much concern. I’m thinking of the perfect graceful word to let her know I’m okay when she grabs me by both shoulders, gets two inches from my face and yells, “Maaaaaw,” making her mouth into a long O shape.
    I don’t even know how to compute this when three other “Maaaaaw”s spring up beside us. I see her grab other shoulders of shadowy figures and one at a time say “Maaaaaw” back to them. Then she puts her arm around my shoulder and says, “Ladies, this is my cousin Stephanie.” She pauses, does the big eyes and adds, “She’s from Boston.” She ends on a hair flip.
    The figures crowd closer. Flashlight beams hit me. People talk at once. Somebody says, “I love Boston. My cousin goes to Harvard.”