‘No.’
This is not Dee’s sister or a doctor who speaks. It is Dee.
I know she can’t hear me because I am an imaginary friend. But the word sounds like an answer to my question. It surprises me. Just Dee speaking surprises me. I gasp.
‘Dee?’ her sister says. ‘What did you say?’
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Dee says.
‘Don’t be afraid of what?’ her sister asks. She is squeezing Dee’s hand. Leaning in closer and closer.
‘Are you talking to me?’ I ask.
Dee’s eyes are open now, but they are only teeny, tiny slits. I look to see if she is looking at me, but I can’t tell.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Dee says again. Her voice is thin and whispery but the words are clear.
‘Doctor!’ Dee’s sister shouts, turning her head toward the counter and the desks in the center of the room. ‘My sister is awake. She’s talking!’
Two doctors stand up and move in our direction.
‘Are you talking to me, Dee?’ I ask again. I know she is not. She can’t be. But it seems like she is.
‘Go,’ Dee says. ‘Go. It’s time.’
‘Me?’ I ask. ‘Are you talking to me? Dee?’
The doctors arrive. They pull the curtains all the way open. A doctor asks Dee’s sister to step aside. The other doctor walks to the opposite side of the bed as an alarm sound begins ringing. Dee’s eyes roll back in her head. The doctors move faster, and I am pushed off the bed and onto the floor by another doctor who has just arrived. He shoved me out of the way without even knowing it.
‘She was just talking!’ Dee’s sister says.
‘She’s crashing!’ one of the doctors shouts.
Another doctor takes Dee’s sister by the shoulder and moves her away from the bed. Two more doctors arrive. I move to the end of the bed. I can barely see Dee. The doctors are crowding around her. One of the doctors puts a plastic bag over Dee’s mouth and starts squeezing it open and shut. Another doctor sticks a needle into a tube that is connected to Dee’s arm. I watch as a yellow liquid moves up the tube and disappears under Dee’s nightgown.
Dee is dying.
I can tell by the look on the doctors’ faces. They are working hard and fast but they are just doing what they are supposed to do. I see the same look on the faces of some of Max’s teachers when Max doesn’t understand something and the teacher doesn’t think he will ever understand it. The teachers work hard but you can tell that they are just doing the lesson. Not teaching the lesson. That’s what the doctors look like now. They are doing the doctoring but they do not believe in the doctoring.
Dee’s eyes close.
I hear her words ringing in my head.
Go. It’s time. Don’t be afraid.
CHAPTER 50
We are standing at the front doors to the hospital. Snow is falling outside. Oswald says that he has never seen snow. I tell him that he will love it.
‘Thank you,’ I say to Teeny.
She smiles. I know she can’t leave Aubrey, but I wish she could come with us.
‘Are you ready, Oswald?’ I ask.
The lobby is busy. It is full of people coming and going. Oswald looks even bigger now that I can compare him to so many other people. He is a giant.
‘No,’ Oswald says. ‘I want to stay here.’
‘But you will go with Budo and help him,’ Teeny says. This is not a question. It is a command.
‘Yes,’ Oswald says.
The word is yes but the sound is no.
‘Good,’ Teeny says, and then she flies over to Oswald and hugs his neck, too.
He gasps. His muscles tense. His hands ball into fists again. Teeny keeps squeezing until he finally relaxes. It takes a long time.
‘And good luck,’ she adds. ‘I want to see both of you again. Soon.’
‘Okay,’ Oswald says.
‘You will,’ I say.
But I do not believe it. I think this is the last time I will ever see Teeny or this hospital again.
Oswald spends the first five minutes outside trying to avoid the falling snowflakes. He dodges one while ten other flakes pass through him. He doesn’t even notice.
Once he realizes that they will not hurt him, he spends the next five minutes trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. They pass through his tongue, of course, but it takes him a while to realize this, and he bounces off at least three people and a telephone pole while doing so.
‘We have to go,’ I say to Oswald.
‘Where?’
‘We have to go home. We have to ride the bus to school tomorrow.’
‘I have never been on a bus before,’ Oswald says.
I can see that he is nervous. I decide to tell him as little as possible from now on.
‘It will be fun,’ I say. ‘I promise.’
It is a long walk from the hospital to Max’s house. I usually enjoy the walk, but Oswald asks questions. Lots and lots of questions.
When do they turn the street lights on?
Does each street light have a separate switch?
Where did all the choo-choo trains go?
Why don’t people just draw their own money?
Who decided that red means stop and green means go?
Is there only one moon?
Are all car honks the same?
How do the police stop trees from growing in the middle of the street?
Do people paint their own cars?
What is a fire hydrant?
Why don’t people whistle when they walk?
Where do airplanes live when they are not flying?
The questions never stop, and even though I want them to stop, I keep answering. This giant who was throwing me around a hospital room earlier today needs me now, and as long as he needs me, I hope that he will listen to me and help me.
Ever since we left Teeny behind at the hospital, I have been afraid that Oswald would turn into his old, angry self. That Teeny’s magic would wear off after we got far enough away. Instead he has become more like a preschooler who wants to know everything.
‘This is my house,’ I say to Oswald as we finally turn up the driveway.
It is late. I do not know how late, but the lights in the kitchen and the living room are turned off.
‘Where are we going?’ Oswald asks.
‘Inside. Do you sleep?’
‘When?’ Oswald asks.
‘Do you sleep at all?’
‘Oh. Yes.’
‘This is where we will sleep tonight,’ I say, pointing at the house.
‘How will I get in?’ he asks.
‘Through the door,’ I say.
‘How?’
Then I realize it. Oswald can’t pass through doors. In the hospital, when we took the stairs from the third floor to the first floor, we followed two men in blue uniforms through the door to the stairway. When we left the hospital, we followed a man and a woman.
This is why Oswald pushed open the door to the bald man’s room. John’s room. He had to push it open if he wanted to get in.
‘Can you open the door?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ Oswald says. But I can see that he is looking at the door like it is a mountain.
‘It’ll be locked,’ I say, which is true. ‘Never mind.’
‘How would you normally get in?’ Oswald asks.
‘I can pass through doors.’
‘Pass through?’
I climb three steps to the front door of the house and then pass through. I actually pass through two doors. A screen door and a wooden door. Then I turn around and pass back through to the outside.
Oswald’s mouth is hanging open when I reappear on the other side. His eyes are gigantic.
‘You’re magic,’ he says.
‘No, you’re magic,’ I say. ‘I know lots of imaginary friends who can pass through doors. But I don’t know any imaginary friends who can touch the real world.’
‘Imaginary friends?’
I realize
that I have said too much again.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m an imaginary friend.’ I pause for a moment, thinking about what to say next. Then I add, ‘So are you.’
‘I’m an imaginary friend?’ Oswald asks.
‘Yes. What did you think you were?’
‘A ghost,’ he says. ‘I thought you were a ghost, too. I thought you were going to steal John away from me.’
I laugh. ‘Nope. No ghosts here. What did you think Teeny was?’
‘A fairy,’ Oswald says.
I laugh again, but then I realize that this probably helped Teeny convince Oswald to help me.
‘I guess you’re half right about Teeny,’ I say. ‘She’s a fairy, but she is imaginary, too.’
‘Oh.’
‘You look upset,’ I say.
And he does. He is looking at his feet again and his arms are hanging by his side like wet noodles.
‘I don’t know which is better,’ Oswald says. ‘Imaginary or a ghost.’
‘What’s the difference?’ I ask.
‘If I am a ghost, that means I was alive once. If I’m imaginary, that means I was never alive.’
There is silence between us as we stare at one another. I don’t know what to say. Then I do.
‘I have an idea,’ I say.
I say this because I really do have an idea, but mostly because I want to change the subject.
‘Do you think you could press the doorbell?’
‘Where?’ Oswald asks, and I can tell by the question that he does not know what a doorbell is.
‘This little dot,’ I say, pointing at the button. ‘If you press it down, a bell will ring inside the house and Max’s parents will open the door. When they do, we can slip inside.’
‘I thought you could pass through the door?’ Oswald says.
‘Yes, I can. Sorry. I meant you could slip inside.’
‘Okay,’ Oswald says.
He says okay a lot, and I can’t help but think of Max every time he does. Max will be alone tonight, locked in Mrs Patterson’s basement, and the thought of that makes me feel sad and rotten.
I promised him that I would never leave. Now I am here with Oswald.
But tomorrow night Max will be sleeping in his own bed. I say these words in my head, and they make me feel a little better.
Oswald climbs the three steps to the landing. He reaches out to press the doorbell, but before he does, his entire body stiffens. The muscles in his arms and neck pop out. A vein in his forehead appears and throbs. The caterpillars above his eyes kiss again. He clenches his teeth. His hand shakes as he reaches out with his finger. It touches the button, and for a second, nothing happens. Then his hand shakes even more and I hear Oswald grunt. As he grunts, the button disappears under his finger and the bell rings.
‘You did it!’ I say, and even though I have seen him touch the real world before, I am still amazed.
Oswald nods. There are tiny beads of sweat on his forehead and he is trying to catch his breath. He looks like he just ran twenty miles.
I hear someone moving inside the house. We stand back so the door doesn’t knock Oswald off the stoop. The wooden door opens inward. Max’s mom steps into the doorway and peers out through the screen door. She cups her hands over her eyes. She looks back and forth, and now I can see that this was not a good idea.
I can see hope in her face.
She was thinking that this might be good news. She was thinking that it might be Max.
She opens the screen door and steps out onto the stoop beside Oswald. It is cold outside. The snow has stopped but I can see her breath in the freezing air. She wraps her arms around her body to stay warm. I nudge Oswald forward as Max’s mom says, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
‘Go inside,’ I say. ‘Wait for me.’
Oswald does as I say. I watch as Max’s mom calls out one more time, and then the hope disappears from her face.
‘Who is it?’ Max’s dad says. He is standing in the kitchen now. Oswald is standing beside him.
‘No one,’ Max’s mom says. Her words sound like boulders. She can barely pick them up to say them.
‘Who the fuck rings a person’s doorbell at ten at night and then runs away?’ Max’s dad says.
‘Maybe it was a mistake,’ Max’s mom says. She sounds far away even though she is standing right beside me.
‘Fuck that,’ Max’s dad says. ‘No one makes that kind of mistake and then disappears.’
Max’s mom starts to cry. She would have cried anyway, I think, but the word disappears hits her like one of those boulders. Her tears pour out.
Max’s dad knows it. He knows what he has done.
‘Honey, I’m sorry.’
He puts his arms around her and pulls her back from the doorway, letting the screen door close behind him. No whack-whack-whack this time. They stand in the kitchen, holding each other, as Max’s mom cries and cries and cries. She cries harder than I have ever heard a person cry before.
The door to Max’s bedroom is closed, so I tell Oswald to sleep on the couch in the living room. He is so long that his feet hang off the end of the couch. They dangle in the air like two enormous fishing poles.
‘Are you comfortable?’ I ask.
‘When someone is sleeping in the bed next to John, I have to sleep on the floor. This is better than the floor.’
‘Good. Sleep tight, then.’
‘Wait,’ Oswald says. ‘Are you going to sleep now?’
I don’t want to tell Oswald that I don’t sleep. I think it will just make him ask more questions. So I say yes. ‘I’ll just sleep in this chair. I do it a lot.’
‘Before I go to sleep, I always talk to John.’
‘You do? What do you tell him?’
‘I tell him about my day,’ Oswald says. ‘What I did. Who I saw. I can’t wait to tell him about all the things I saw today.’
‘Do you want to tell me about your day?’
‘No,’ Oswald says. ‘You already know about my day. You were with me.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Then do you want to tell me something else?’
‘No, I want you to tell me about your friend.’
‘Max?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ Oswald says. ‘Tell me about Max. I never had a friend who could walk and talk.’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I will tell you about Max.’
I start with the easy stuff. I talk about what Max looks like and what he likes to eat. I tell him about the Lego and the army men and the video games. I explain how Max is different than other kids because he can get stuck and he lives mostly on the inside.
Then I tell the stories. I tell the story about Max’s first Halloween party in kindergarten and his bonus poops and his fight with Tommy Swinden in the boys’ bathroom and the rock that Tommy Swinden threw through Max’s bedroom window last week. I talk about how Max’s mom makes Max try new things and how Max’s dad likes to use the word normal a lot. I tell him about the games of catch in the backyard and the way I help Max choose between a red or green shirt when he can’t decide.
And I tell him about Mrs Gosk. I tell him about how she is almost perfect except when she calls Max my boy but that is close enough to perfect to make her perfect.
I do not talk about Mrs Patterson. I’m afraid that if I do, Oswald might be too afraid to help me tomorrow.
Oswald does not ask any questions. Twice I think he has fallen asleep. I stop talking and he lifts his head, looks at me, and says, ‘What?’
‘Do you know what I like best about Max?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he says. ‘I don’t know Max.’
‘The thing I like best about Max is that he is brave.’
‘What did he do that was brave?’
‘It’s not one thing,’ I say. ‘It’s everything. Max is not like any other person in the whole world. Kids make fun of him because he is different. His mom tries to change him into a different boy and his dad tries to treat him like he is someone else. Even his teachers treat hi
m differently, and not always nicely. Even Mrs Gosk. She is perfect but she still treats Max differently. No one treats him like a regular boy, but everyone wants him to be regular instead of himself. With all that, Max still gets out of bed every morning and goes to school and the park and even the bus stop.’
‘That’s brave?’ Oswald asks.
‘That’s the bravest,’ I say. ‘I am the oldest, smartest imaginary friend I have ever met. It is easy for me to go out and meet other imaginary friends because they all look up to me. They ask me questions and want to be like me. When they are not beating me up.’
I smile at Oswald.
He does not smile back.
‘But you have to be the bravest person in the world to go out every day being yourself when no one likes who you are. I could never be as brave as Max.’
‘I wish I had a Max,’ Oswald says. ‘I never even heard John talk.’
‘Maybe he will someday.’
‘Maybe,’ Oswald says, but I don’t think he believes it.
‘Can we go to sleep now?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ Oswald says, and he does not say another word. He falls asleep almost immediately.
I sit in a chair and watch him sleep. I try to imagine tomorrow. I make a list of all the things I need to do to save Max. I try to predict where my plan might go wrong. I think about what I will say to Max when the time comes.
This will be the most important part. I cannot save Max alone. I will need Oswald’s help, but, most of all, I will need Max.
I cannot save Max unless I can convince him to save himself.
CHAPTER 51
Mrs Gosk once read a story to the class about a boy named Pinocchio. The kids laughed when they heard that she was going to read the story to them. They thought it was for babies.
It is never a good idea to laugh at Mrs Gosk.
Once she started reading, the kids realized how wrong they were. They loved the story. They didn’t want her to stop reading. They wanted to hear more and more and more. But every day Mrs Gosk would stop at the most suspenseful moment in the book and make the kids wait until the next day to find out what happened next. They begged her to read more and she would say, ‘You can take charge of this classroom when pigs fly!’ This made them all so mad. Even Max. He loved the story, too. I think Mrs Gosk did this on purpose just to punish her students for laughing at her.