Stella Lennon - Invisible i

When nobody said anything, he just gestured toward the door and we trooped out in a line: Hal first, then Nia, then me.

“It’s not like we’re going to be able to get the stuff off his car with this,” I pointed out, rattling the bucket toward their backs. “Spray paint doesn’t exactly wash off.”

Neither of them said anything, as if during lunch they’d made a pact to ignore me. Well, two could play at that game, and I didn’t say anything more. A crowd was gathered by the gate to the faculty parking lot to gape at Mr. Thornhill’s car (some people had out their phones and were taking pictures); at first the security guard, who was holding them back, wouldn’t let us through. Hal had to explain for about fifty years that we had to go to the car, and even then the guy was reluctant to let us pass. As we walked past him, I spotted Lee’s curly dark hair towering above the crowd and then I saw Traci, Heidi, and Jake, who were all standing with him. Lee saw me before they did, maybe because he’s so tall, and he put his fists up over his head and shouted, “Go, Callie!” as Traci and Heidi clapped and Jake whistled. I hoped Hal and Nia heard them. I hoped they realized who they were ignoring.

The VP’s ancient Honda Civic was parked far enough away from the crowd that the noise of the onlookers was muffled, or maybe it was just that the sensory overload of looking at something so vivid made it difficult to register anything else. The clouds had rolled in since we’d first looked out Thornhill’s office window, but even in the watery sunlight of a March afternoon, the car pulsed with color and energy.

“Wow,” said Hal.

I had to agree. From a distance, we’d only been able to see the biggest shapes, but up close you could make out the detail work—tiny birds carrying intricate olive branches, long daisy chains intertwining with meticulously drawn rainbows. It wasn’t just bright and colorful, it was really, really good art.

Suddenly, I thought of something. Despite my private vow not to talk to either Hal or Nia, I turned to Hal, who was standing next to me admiring the lunar landscape that covered the driver’s side of the windshield. “Did you draw this?”

Either Hal was seriously ignoring me or he hadn’t heard what I said. He reached out with his index finger and traced the edge of the moon. “Hey, it’s—” he started to say, but before he could finish, I grabbed his arm.

“Did you do this?”

“What?” He turned to face me but I could tell he was still absorbed in admiring the masterpiece that was Thornhill’s car. I noticed that after he’d touched the moon, his finger had a light coating of bluish-white.

“I said, did you draw this?” Hal was the best artist at Endeavor, and there was no doubt someone with real talent had decorated this car.

“I wish,” he said. He turned back to admire the car. “Maybe I could have done this, but only with her, you know?” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I couldn’t deny that Hal’s tone was friendly enough. I wondered if I’d been paranoid to think he and Nia were ignoring me.

“How did you even know her?” I hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but my question came out like an attack.

Hal didn’t say anything, but Nia did. “Oh, what, now you’re the holder of the social registry for the entire grade?”

None of the other I-Girls would have tolerated Nia’s being so rude, but the three of them are way better at confrontations than I am. For a second I tried to think up a snappy comeback,

but when nothing came to me, I just ended up with, “I didn’t realize you guys were friends, that’s all.” Then I shrugged, like there hadn’t been any judgment in my assumption.

I’d expected Nia to back off, but instead she kept going. “Oh, right,” she said. “You and your friends just—”

“Look!” said Hal. He’d been circling the car, and now he was pointing at the trunk.

Glad to have an excuse not to fight with Nia without having to feel like a wimp, I went over to where he was standing and followed his finger. Scattered across the trunk were half a dozen bears, birds, and cats that were the same as the ones on our lockers. There was another animal, too—a lizard of some sort. Then there were stars and moons and a bunch of peace signs.

“That’s a lizard,” I said, half to myself and half out loud. “And that’s a cat—”

“It’s a cougar,” said Hal, rubbing his wrist unconsciously for a second.

I hadn’t noticed that Nia had come up behind me until she spat out, “You thought it was a cat? It doesn’t look anything like a cat.”

This time my comeback was out of my mouth before I even realized I’d formulated it. “Gee, I didn’t realize you were such a friggin' nature girl, Nia,” I snapped. “When you’re on the Discovery Channel talking about the indigenous wildlife of Orion, I’ll be sure to watch.”

“Like I’d even care."

“Um, could you two—” said Hal quietly.

But Nia was on a roll. “And where do you come off questioning our friendships with Amanda anyway? What about yours? I mean, I never saw her hanging out with you and your stupid I-Girls. You probably tried to get her to be friends with you, only she wouldn’t let you call her Mandi so you dropped the whole idea!”

I could feel my face getting red, and I was so mad I forgot I was still holding the bucket as I reached out my arm to point at her. “Nia, you’re so jealous it’s pathetic. Like Amanda would ever, ever in a million years have hung out with someone as—” The bucket swung wildly in my hand, and one of the bottles of cleaner fell to the pavement.

“Hey!” Hal’s voice was a shout this time. I’d never heard him yell before, and it shut me up.

“Listen,” he continued in his normal voice. “I don’t pretend to understand Amanda or what motivated her or anything. But one thing I do know is that she didn’t do anything randomly. And I have a really strong feeling right now. This"—he pointed at the car and looked from me to Nia—"is a message.”

I’m basically the least superstitious person in the world, but as soon as Hal said that, I shivered. Was it possible? Was Amanda trying to tell us something?

Hal continued. “Now, here’s what I can tell you about what she’s drawn. My totem is the cougar. Strong but solitary.” I felt myself blush again when he described himself that way, but he didn’t seem at all embarrassed.

Hal’s words had some kind of magical softening effect on Nia, who pointed at the bird. “That’s me,” she breathed, her voice quiet and almost dreamy. “Night owl. Wise. Independent.”

I managed not to laugh when she said “independent.” Was that what we were now calling people who were incapable of functioning in a social setting?

Hal jostled me gently in the shoulder, and I realized it was my turn. “Bears are strong,” I said slowly. I didn’t add the other important bear fact Amanda had reminded me of: Bears hibernate.

Nia had leaned against the car while Hal and I were talking, and when she stood up, she instinctively brushed some dust off her hip. I remembered Hal’s finger.

“It’s chalk,” I almost shouted.

Hal smacked his forehead. “Yes! That’s what I was going to tell you before. It’s not paint at all.”

“What?” Nia looked from me to Hal.

“The drawing. It’s chalk. Look.” I touched my finger to a bright red apple and dragged it against the metal surface of the car. When I pulled my hand away, there was a red streak along my skin.

Hal leaned down until his face was less than an inch from the car’s surface. “You know, now that I’m looking more closely, I think it’s chalk and pastels,” he said. “This should come off the car really easily.”