Invisible Inkling

The Squash Situation

Becomes Desperate

Inkling and I settle into a happy routine. At least, it makes me happy. We get up early and watch science videos while eating breakfast cereal. He leans against my leg while we watch, telling me wild stories about bandapat life in Ethiopia, or the Woods of Mystery, or wherever he’s supposed to be from.

Sure, he’s a liar, but at least he’s never boring.

When the rest of my family wakes up, Inkling climbs onto a high shelf in the kitchen and watches us as we eat and talk and get ready for the day. Every now and then I toss him up an Oatie Puff and he eats it in midair. In the afternoons we play Monopoly or Blokus in my room, and I tell him everything that’s going on.

Even more than I used to tell Wainscotting.

“I can probably figure out a new plan to defeat Gillicut,” says Inkling, the day after the hair fluff. “But the thing is, I need some squash. I haven’t had any for ages and ages.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I’ll get you some.”

But finding squash is not so easy. Like I said, no one in my family eats it. My allowance is two dollars a week, but all of that goes to paying Mom back for my Lego airport, which cost a lot. I never see any cash, and Nadia won’t pay me for helping with the dog walking.

“I need the squash, Wolowitz,” Inkling says. “I’m in a weakened state. My bandapat instincts are dulled. You saw how the rootbeer nearly ate me. And your dad sat on me, too.”

I nod.

“Get me squash,” he says. “Get me squash or I can’t stay here anymore.” Then, coaxing: “Get me squash and I can solve your Gillicut problem.”

“When do you need it by?” I ask.

“Yesterday!” cries Inkling. “But today will do.”

So we try. He climbs onto my back, and we go downstairs to Chin’s apartment. “Hello,” I say, when Chin opens the door. “Do you have any squash I can borrow?”

Chin laughs. She is wearing a tutu. I have never seen her dressed that way before. “I don’t think so,” she answers. “Mom, do we have squash?”

Chin’s mom comes up. “No squash. Tell your dad I’m sorry, Hank.”

“It’s not for my dad.”

“Then what’s it for?” Chin wants to know.

Locke and Linderman appear at the door. They are wearing tutus also.

Suddenly I can’t think of a reasonable answer.

“I didn’t know you had friends over,” I say to Chin. “I’ll see you later.”

“Do you want to come in?” she asks. “We’re doing a ballet and we could totally use a prince.”

“That’s okay.”

“There could be a sword fight if you want. It doesn’t have to be leaping around or romance or anything.”

“No, no,” I say. “Hello, Dahlia. Hello, Emma. I have to look for squash now.”

I turn and run up the stairs.

“Keep trying,” says Inkling.

“But that was a disaster,” I say.

“Keep trying,” he repeats. “I need the squash.”

We knock at Seth Mnookin’s, but only Rootbeer is home. She barks like a crazy dog when she smells Inkling on the other side of the door.

“Nadia?” I ask my sister, back in the apartment. “Will you buy me a squash? It’ll only cost maybe four dollars, and I’ll pay you back when I’m done paying Mom for the Lego airport.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Nadia, not even looking up from her book. “You’re gonna be owing on that airport for, like, two years.”

“Come on,” I beg. “Just one little squash.”

“No way,” says Nadia. “You never paid me back when I bought you those waffle cookies. Or when I fronted you money for the helicopter pop-up book.”

She’s right.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Inkling, when we’re alone in my room again.

“But I need it,” he says. “Need my squash, so bad.”

“No one has it,” I say. “And I don’t have any money.”

“I’m sluggish,” he moans. “I’m losing fur in patches. You’ve gotta help me, Wolowitz. Otherwise how can I help you?”

I can hear the desperation in his voice.

I want to help. I really do.

The question is, how?