Invisible Inkling

Dangerous Pumpkins

Nadia’s high school is in Manhattan. We have to take a subway to get there.

As we head in, Dad takes my hand. The gymnasium is packed with parents, teachers, teenagers. It’s dark. Everything’s lit only by the candles and flashlights inside the pumpkins that sit on tables lining the walls.

For-serious beautiful.

Nadia starts setting up her pumpkins and doing the paperwork to enter them in the contest. Mom and Dad are talking to Mara’s parents. I duck into the hall and whisper to Inkling, “Swear you won’t eat any pumpkins?”

“Well, maybe just a little loser one. No one will miss that.”

“Yes they will! People worked hard on these.”

“Oh, fine,” Inkling mutters.

“It better be,” I say.

“I said fine!” he barks. “But it’s a good thing I’m not hungry. Because there are some very, very exciting pumpkins here. Did you see the huge one in the corner?”

“Stay away from it,” I tell Inkling.

“Hey! Are you talking to Wood Erk?”

Oh no.

It’s Dad, leaning over me.

I didn’t notice he’d come into the hall.

“Wood wants to see the pumpkins,” I tell Dad. I grab his hand and pull him back into the gym.

Dad surveys the pumpkins. He bends down and smiles. “What do you think, Wood? Pretty dangerous, am I right?”

“Dad!”

“What?”

“You always talk to him like he’s a baby!”

Truth is, a lot of times, I forget that I don’t actually have an imaginary friend called Wood Erk.

“Sorry, Wood,” says Dad.

Then he looks me in the eyes. “You must be feeling sad about being so disconnected from Nadia lately,” he says.

“It’s fine.”

He pats my shoulder. “Imaginary friends tend to show up when we feel most alone. Did you know that?”

Oh, Dad.

You’re a nice dad, but you have no idea what’s really going on.

Except.

Yeah.

I am kind of alone. It’s not just that Nadia hates me. Wainscotting went to Iowa, Chin’s mad at me, and Patne wouldn’t sit with me.

So Dad’s a little bit right, even if there is no Wood Erk.

He must see my thoughts on my face, because he goes in for a hug all of a sudden. A big, Dad hug in the middle of the high school gymnasium full of families and pumpkins. It would be all nice and father-son, except for this:

I’ve got an invisible bandapat draped over my shoulders.

Oh no.

Avoiding Dad’s arms, just barely, Inkling scampers down, his claws digging into my back and then my waist. With what feels like a flip, he leaps off my body and grabs the back of my belt with his front paws. Hanging down.

At least, I think that’s what he’s doing.

I just know: my pants are falling.

Inkling is pretty heavy.

The pants are going down—and down!

Dad is hugging and not noticing.

I’m trying to bend down to get my pants, but Dad is squashing me and I can’t do it without pushing him away.

Aaaaaaa! My pants have hit the floor. I have to do something!

Teenagers are seeing my underwear.

Nadia’s friends.

Nadia’s teachers.

Why am I wearing Star Wars underwear? Why didn’t I just wear regular underwear like a normal person?

I twist away from Dad’s hug to yank my pants up—but I fall back because my stupid pants are around my ankles, and I can feel Inkling behind my heels. I hit the ground, hard.