Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend Read Online Free PDF Page A

just about every kid at school.
    Imagine what that must feel like.
    Max doesn’t answer, so Tommy bangs again. ‘Who’s in there? I want to know!’
    ‘Don’t say anything, Max!’ I say from my spot by the door. ‘He can’t get in there. He’ll have to leave eventually!’
    But I’m wrong, because when Max doesn’t answer the second time, Tommy gets down on his hands and knees and peeks his head under the door.
    ‘Max the Moron,’ he says, and I can hear the smile on his face. Not a nice smile. A rotten one. ‘I can’t believe it’s you. It’s my lucky day. What’s the matter? Couldn’t hold that last one in?’
    ‘No,’ Max shouts, and I can already hear the panic in his voice. ‘It was already halfway out!’
    Everything about this situation is bad.
    Max is trapped inside a public bathroom, a place that already frightens him. His pants are wrapped around his ankles and he probably hasn’t finished pooping. Tommy Swinden is on the other side of the stall door, and Tommy definitely wants to hurt Max. They are alone. Except for me, of course, but they might as well be alone for all the help that I can be.
    It’s the way Max answered Tommy that scares me the most. There was more than panic in his voice. There was fear. Like when people in the movies see the ghost or the monster for the first time. Max just saw a monster peek underneath the stall door and he is frightened. He might already be close to getting stuck, and that is never good.
    ‘Open this door, dickhead,’ Tommy says, pulling his head back and standing up. ‘Make this easy on me and all I’ll do is bowl you.’
    I don’t know what bowl means, but I have visions of Tommy Swinden rolling Max’s head across the bathroom like a bowling ball.
    ‘Occupied by Max Delaney!’ Max shouts, his voice screeching like a little girl. ‘Occupied by Max Delaney!’
    ‘Last chance, moron. Open it up or I’m coming in!’
    ‘Occupied by Max Delaney!’ Max screams again. ‘Occupied by Max Delaney!’
    Tommy Swinden gets back down on his hands and knees, ready to crawl under the door, and I don’t know what to do.
    Max needs more help than most kids in his class, and I am always there for him, ready to lend a hand. Even on the day that he tattled on Tommy Swinden, I was there, telling him to whisper, begging him to ‘Slow down! Don’t rush! Stop yelling!’ Max wouldn’t listen to me that day because there was a knife at school and that was such an important rule to break that he could not control himself. It was like the whole world was broken and he needed to find a teacher to fix it. I didn’t stop him that day, but I tried.
    At least I knew what to do.
    But I don’t know what to do now. Tommy Swinden is about to crawl under the door and enter a tiny bathroom stall where Max is trapped, probably perched on top of the toilet, knees in his chest, pants around his ankles, frozen in place. If he’s not crying yet, he soon will be, and by the time Tommy has made it all the way under the door, Max will probably be screaming, a high-pitched, breathless scream that paints his face red and fills his eyes with tears. He will ball his hands into fists and bury his face behind his forearms, closing his eyes, and screaming the wispy, almost silent screams that make me think of a dog whistle. Full of air but almost no sound at all.
    Before any teacher gets here, Tommy Swinden will bowl Max, whatever that means. Even though I’m sure that being bowled would be bad for any kid, it’s going to be a lot worse for Max, because that is how Max is. Things stay with Max for ever. He never forgets. And even the tiniest, littlest things can permanently change him. Whatever bowling is, it’s going to change Max for ever and ever. I know it and I don’t know what to do.
    ‘Help!’ I want to scream. ‘Someone help my friend!’
    But only Max would hear.
    Tommy’s head disappears under the stall and I shout, ‘Fight, Max! Fight! Don’t let him in