Invisible Inkling

Suddenly, It Tips Over

Dad yanks my pants back up.

I want to die of embarrassment, but somehow, I stay alive.

Dad starts talking loudly about Halloween when he was young, trying to get my mind off all Nadia’s friends seeing my underwear.

It’s not really working, but it’s nice of him to try.

Where’s Inkling?

I look for signs of him, but there’s nothing I can see. No wobbling pumpkins, no gently moving papers. I’m worried he’ll lose control and eat the huge pumpkin in the corner. I excuse myself and run my hands along the floor beneath the tables.

No luck.

It’s crowded now. Many people are in costume, since it’s the night before Halloween. Nadia’s friend Jacquie is dressed as a rock star, meaning she has on tight clothes and lots of makeup.

“What are you being right now?” she asks Nadia.

Nadia isn’t in costume. She’s wearing a short black skirt, enormous fuzzy boots, and a shirt with embroidery. “I’m just being awesome,” she retorts.

“Oh,” says Jacquie, confused. Then she talks for a while about her rock star costume. What hair products she used, how she decided what pants to wear. There’s glitter in her makeup.

At the end of the conversation, Nadia says, “Unicorns tomorrow night, right?”

“Sure.” Jacquie smiles. “But we don’t have to always dress alike, you know. Just ’cause we did when we were little.”

“I know that.” Nadia sounds hurt.

She cheers up when her boyfriend, Max, arrives. He’s dressed as a mad scientist, probably Dr. Frankenstein, wearing a white lab coat with all kinds of slimy things coming out of his pockets. He’s got a crazy white wig. Max’s friend, this boy Gustav, is Frankenstein’s monster.

“Hey, Jacquie,” Gustav says. “You’re looking good.”

“Shut up, Gustav,” she says. But she’s laughing.

I swear, I will never understand girls.

And really, where is Inkling? If he eats anything, I don’t know what I’ll do. I walk around the edge of the gym, calling his name whenever I think no one will notice.

I’ve got all the way to the start of the display, pretty much across the room from where my family is standing—when suddenly, the pumpkin nearest me tips over.

The one next to it falls, too, rolling off the table.

Inkling.

Another pumpkin tips. And another.

“Stop!” I cry.

But he doesn’t stop. He must be running the length of the tables that are set up all along the edges of the gym—knocking over pumpkin after pumpkin. They’re rolling and sometimes crashing to the floor—or wobbling, their candles going dark. Sometimes it seems like Inkling is running on top of them, leaping from pumpkin to pumpkin, pushing off with his hind feet. Other times it’s like he’s just scrambling down the table and knocking into them as he runs.

People stare in shock; it’s like a ghost has gotten into the room.

Inkling is scared, I know he must be. Something terrified him and now he’s running, staying on the tables because he’s frightened of being crushed underfoot.

I make a quick calculation. Can I get across the room and save Nadia’s pumpkins before he ruins them?

I know her heart will break if her pumpkins are smashed before the judging.

Yes, I can make it.

Maybe.

I sprint through the crowd, banging into devils and angels, vampires and superheroes. I reach the right table just in time. The pumpkins on one end of it are crashing to the floor.

I throw myself on top of the table, protecting Nadia’s dragon with one arm and her witch with the other.

Oof! Inkling leaps onto my back, his front feet grabbing around my neck and his back claws digging into my waist.

“Wolowitz,” he begs, “you have to save me.”