Invisible i

CHAPTER 4

Vice Principal Thornhill marched us to our lockers so we could show him anything Amanda might have stashed inside. While we were in his office, first period had ended and second had started, so the halls were empty again. This time I was glad rather than creeped out by the stillness; the last thing I wanted was the population of Endeavor staring and pointing at the three of us as our lockers were inspected like we were criminals or something. I distracted myself by reading the flyers for chess club, band rehearsal, call-outs for newspaper contributions, and the formation of some new after-school jazz quartet. None of these were I-Girl activities.

Nia’s locker was in the humanities corridor, just a few feet from Mr. Randolph’s room, and I realized I’d passed it on my way to class this morning and definitely hadn’t noticed anything weird (not that I would have even known it was hers if I had). As we stood in front of it now, though, I saw that in the bottom right-hand corner was a small stencil of an animal, a bird of some sort, painted a metallic gray slightly paler than the gray of the metal locker. Nia’s expression definitely changed when she looked at it—as we’d walked from Mr. Thornhill’s room, she’d been scowling as usual, but suddenly her face was the picture of amazement. The look was gone almost as soon as it appeared, and I didn’t know if Mr. Thornhill had seen it or not.

“Anyone could have done this, Mr. Thornhill,” she said. “What makes you think it was Amanda?” Her hand fluttered up, and it looked like she was about to touch the picture, but then she seemed to think better of it and jerked her hand back, pulling the sleeves of her pale blue sweater almost to her fingertips as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

Mr. Thornhill gave her a long look but all he said was, “Open it, please.” She hesitated for a second, like maybe she really did have something to hide, but then expertly turned the combination lock and jerked the door open.

I couldn’t help being curious to know what someone like Nia would have in her locker. She was so serious—it wouldn’t have surprised me if there’d been a bound set of Supreme Court cases or a collection of Save the Whales bumper stickers in different languages. While Mr. Thornhill rifled through the unexpected amount of junk piled high inside—books and notebooks, two pairs of broken sunglasses, a bunch of empty candy wrappers, a bag of marbles, some Mardi Gras beads—I

snuck glances at the postcard of the poster for a movie called The Thin Man taped next to a picture of a Mayan or Aztec warrior-looking guy on the inside of the door under a magnet in the shape of a fish with the word DARWIN written inside it. Pretty surprising stuff compared with what I’d imagined.

Mr. Thornhill didn’t find anything that would have definitively proven Nia’s guilt, and it obviously pissed him off. He slammed her locker shut and started walking. Hal and I followed a few paces behind. When I looked around to see what had happened to Nia, she was standing, staring at the closed door of her locker. A minute later, she turned and ran to catch up with us.

As soon as she was walking alongside me and Hal she said,

“I—”

“Not now,” said Hal. His voice was somewhere between a whisper and a hiss. “But—”

“Not now,” he said again.

Hal’s face remained completely blank as we stood in front of his locker, where there was a stencil of another animal—some kind of cat or maybe a lion—also in pale gray, also in the lower right-hand corner. He was wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt, and he looked almost bored as he leaned his hip into the wall of lockers next to his own, toying with one of the cuffs while Mr. Thornhill rifled through his stuff. Hal’s locker was really organized for a boy’s—there were books and notebooks neatly lined up, and hanging on the inside of the door was a small pouch with a bunch of colored pens in it. At one point,

Mr. Thornhill took what looked like a sketchbook off the shelf and held it, closed, for a minute, looking at Hal as if to see if he’d flinch.

I flinched for him. I mean, Hal’s a great artist and I can barely draw a stick figure, but my artistic talents (or lack thereof) aren’t the reason that if Mr. Thornhill ever looked through my Scribble Book, I’d die of shame. The whole thing is just so … personal. It’s the closest thing I have to a diary, and the only person I’d ever let see it was Amanda. I realized that if I hadn’t left it at home today, Mr. Thornhill, Hal, and Nia might have had the opportunity to look at my most private thoughts, and I wondered if that was the kind of thing Hal sketched. If so, he must have been crying inside.

But Hal’s face remained blank as Mr. Thornhill raised the book slightly, then lowered it, as if he were weighing the decision to open it, literally and metaphorically. After a minute, he slipped the book back where it had been and slammed Hal’s locker shut, too. Hal stayed behind to lock it after Thornhill had walked away, and when I turned back to check if he was following us, I saw him standing with his head leaning against the cool metal.

I could feel my heart beating in my throat as we turned the corner into the science wing, where my locker was. I never go to my locker until after first period since all of my first period classes were about as far from the science wing as you can get without actually leaving the town of Orion. The last time I’d been here was yesterday, right before math, my last class. I’d actually been standing right here when I got Amanda’s text—

My locker is halfway down the hall, and it seemed to me that the trip was definitely proving Zeno’s Paradox—you can’t travel from point A to point B because the distance must be divided by half each time, and you can divide distances in half indefinitely until you’ve proven you can’t move forward at all. I watched the numbers climb from 100 to 110 to 120 and then, finally, 128. My locker.

I scanned the scuffed, metal surface, but I didn’t see anything in the corner where Hal’s cat and Nia’s bird had been. I had time to feel an instant of confusion and disappointment when suddenly my eyes caught a shape, the same gray color as theirs had been, up on the top right-hand corner.

It was a little bear. And in spite of myself, I let out a tiny gasp of amazement.

CHAPTER 5

“You’re getting the bear.”

It was weird to be out of school so early, but since math class was canceled, Amanda convinced me to go with her to Lakshmi’s Henna Tattoos. She’d said it was because she was thinking about getting one, but almost as soon as we walked in the door, the focus changed from which tattoo she might get to which one I would.

“Amanda, I’m not getting anything. I don’t even have any money on me.” I added the “on me” quickly, though the sentence would have been equally true without it.

“It’s my treat.” She walked over to the wall where the tattoo designs were displayed. There were hearts, anchors, letters, and words. Some of the designs were enormous, like a skyline

of New York City with the Empire State Building in the middle, some were tiny, like the peace signs and doves I associate with hippies.

Amanda focused on a spot on the wall. “I think this is the one.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, but I went over to see what she was looking at.

“Remember, the bear is your totem.”

Amanda had already taught me about totems. Apparently we have animals that can protect and guide us. Usually it takes a while to figure out which animal spirit we’re associated with, but because of my name, Amanda had immediately known my totem was the bear.

Most people are named for normal things like family members and important historical figures. Not me. I’m named for a constellation. No, really. Callista is for Callisto, also known as Ursa Major (the Great Bear). I know, you’ve never heard of it. No one has, unless your mom, like mine, happens to be a world-famous astronomer. If you’ve ever heard of anything even remotely connected with Callisto, it’s the Big Dipper (which, sorry to burst your bubble, isn’t actually a constellation, it’s an asterism), which is part of Callisto. My mom is named Ursula, for Ursa Minor, the Little Bear (of which, yes, you guessed it, the Little Dipper is the most famous part). Technically, I’m named for both Callisto and Ursula, since I’m Callista Ursula Leary.

I looked at the bear on the wall. It was a small brown bear standing on its hind legs, its right front paw reaching up as if it

were about to grab some honey or whatever it is bears reach for. The bear was cute, the way bears are, but there was also something brave about it. It looked strong and steady, like nothing could knock it over. Without realizing what I was doing, I reached my hand up and touched the plastic display.

I hadn’t noticed Amanda watching me, but when I turned my head, her eyes looked deep into mine.

“You were destined to have this tattoo.”

I laughed. “You can’t be destined to have something that’s going to disappear in a few days. Destiny’s about bigger stuff. You know, things that last. Things that are permanent.”

“But nothing is permanent,” said Amanda. “The only permanent thing is change.”

Everything seemed to stop for a second, to freeze, as if all the energy of the universe was focused on me, on my face and my arm and my locker right in front of me. I couldn’t quite catch my breath, and I felt my hand lift slightly as if the bear on my locker were calling to the one on my forearm.

“You recognize this. It means something to you.” Mr. Thornhill wasn’t asking a question at all, he was making an observation.

His tone was gentler than it had been all morning, and for a second I was tempted to tell him the truth. Yes, I recognize this. Yes, it’s a message from Amanda. Where is she? I need to talk to her.

“I’m named for Ursa Major,” I said, surprised that my voice didn’t shake.

“The Great Bear,” he seemed to think aloud. “Who would know that?”

I forced myself to shrug. “Anyone who knows the legend of Callisto, I guess. Or who knows about astronomy. It’s not like it’s privileged information.” Remembering how casually Hal had leaned against his locker while Mr. Thornhill stared at him, I forced myself to meet the vice principal’s gaze.

“Does Amanda know?”

I made myself shrug. “I really don’t know what she knows about astronomy.”

“She’s a brilliant math student.”

She’s a brilliant everything. "There’s more to astronomy than math,” I said.

Mr. Thornhill gave me a look that made it clear just how furious he was, then he gestured for me to open my locker. Once I had, I moved to the side, and while he went through my books and notebooks, I made myself stare at the pictures of me, Heidi, Traci, and Kelli that lined the inside of the door. In every single one of them we were all smiling, like nothing bad had ever happened to us. Like nothing bad could ever happen to us.

Mr. Thornhill didn’t take anything out of my locker, just poked at what was inside it and stepped away, as if there were nothing even remotely interesting there. If I hadn’t been so relieved, I might have been offended.

I shut the door and slipped the lock through the hole of the handle as Mr. Thornhill started walking back down the corridor toward the main office. I wondered if we were supposed to go with him or if he was finished with us now that he’d seen we weren’t hiding anything, but he’d only gone a short distance before he snapped, “Follow me.” He set a fast pace, and I had to jog a little in order to keep a few steps behind him.

Just as Mr. Thornhill turned the corner to the main lobby, I felt a hand on my arm. I looked down and saw that Hal was gripping me just below the elbow. Nia was on his other side, and he was holding her the same way.

When he saw we were both looking down, he let go of us and eased the sleeve of his shirt up about six inches. There, in the exact same spot as mine, was a brick-colored tattoo of the same cat that had been on his locker. As soon as she saw it, Nia looked up at Mr. Thornhill’s back, then reached over to her left arm with her right hand and slid her sweater up just enough to reveal the image I’d seen earlier on her locker. A second later, she slid it back down again.

“Let’s go, kids,” said the vice principal. He was already at the door to the main office, holding it open with his back. We were no more than twenty feet away from him.

Fifteen feet. Ten feet. I raised my right arm in front of my face and reached behind the back of my arm with my left hand, like I had an itch on my shoulder I needed to scratch.

Seven feet. Five feet.

Pressing my hand against my bicep, I slid the fabric of my shirt up just enough to reveal the bear’s reaching paw.

“Oh my god,” whispered Nia, and we crossed the threshold from the lobby into the office.

CHAPTER 6

"Have a seat,” said the vice principal, gesturing to three empty chairs outside of his office. “I have a meeting, so, Mrs. Leong, I’m going to ask you to keep an eye on these three. I want them sitting here silently until I come back.”

“Yes, Mr. Thornhill,” said Mrs. Leong.

“Now.” He turned back to the three of us. “While it is true that, historically, Amanda has felt that her attendance at Endeavor was … optional, this is different. Today as part of her absenting herself, she chose to send me directly to three people to ask about her whereabouts.”

“If you want to know where she is so badly,” snapped Nia, “why don’t you just call her house?”

Mr. Thornhill’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I’ll thank you not to tell me my job, Nia. You can rest assured that I’m handling things on that front. Meanwhile, I want the three of you to think very, very carefully about everything you’ve just seen.”

My heart was beating hard enough that I could barely hear him, so it was a relief when Hal took it upon himself to answer for all of us. “We certainly will, sir. We certainly will.”

Despite Mr. Thornhill’s instruction of silence, I thought for sure we’d have a chance to talk about our tattoos, but the one time Hal started to whisper something, Mrs. Leong jerked her head up and stared at us so fiercely I was actually afraid. Two periods passed while I tried and failed to make sense of what was going on, and by the time Mr. Thornhill walked back into the office and asked if we were ready to talk, I was so tangled up it was all I could do not to tell him everything I knew about Amanda just so he’d help me make sense of it.

But after Hal had answered, “I’m just as confused as you are,” and Nia had said, “Has it not occurred to you, Mr. Thornhill, that we, too, are simply victims of a troublesome student’s practical joke?” I couldn’t start spilling my guts. When he looked at me for an answer, I just shook my head.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Very, very sorry to hear that. Perhaps you’ll feel differently after you wash my car this afternoon after school—”

“But—” began Nia.

“And, if not, I’m sure a month of Saturday detention will change your mind.” “That’s—” said Hal.

“That’s final,” finished Mr. Thornhill. “Unless you can convince your friend Amanda Valentino to come by my office and explain everything herself.” The bell rang right then, as though Mr. Thornhill had planned it. “You may go to lunch.”

I’d expected Nia, Hal, and me to start dishing everything we knew as soon as we stepped into the corridor, but once the office door closed behind us, Nia clutched Hal’s arm and pulled him into the sea of humanity that fills the hallways during period changes. It was like I hadn’t been with them in Thornhill’s office, hadn’t shown them my tattoo. I didn’t know what to do—was I supposed to trot after them like some kind of desperate puppy? Take me with you! I want to talk about Amanda, too!

Um, no. If they thought they were too good to include me in their little powwow, let them think that way. I’d go straight to the source.

Cell phones are totally forbidden in school, so I had to slip into one of the stalls in the bathroom to dial Amanda’s number.

“Life is too short to wait. Except for the beep.”

Beep. "Okay, wherever you are, you have got to get back to school. What is the deal with Thornhill’s car and the lockers and everything? Call me as soon as you get this. Okay, bye.” When I hung up I wished I’d said something about her knowing Hal and Nia. But what? I happen to know for a fact that you’re good friends with two other people at Endeavor besides me. It wasn’t exactly like I didn’t have friends other than Amanda. I mean, a table full of people was waiting for me right now in the cafeteria. So Amanda had other friends, too. What was the big deal?

But as I made my way to the lunchroom, I couldn’t deny that it did feel like a big deal. After Amanda had chosen me, I’d just assumed that I was her only real friend. Now it turned out that I was one of three people she assigned totems to. Three people she’d gotten involved in her prank (whatever it was). I mean, she knew about the I-Girls. So why didn’t I know about Hal and Nia?

The cafeteria was packed, but I spotted Heidi, Traci, and Kelli at our usual table. They’d clearly been looking for me because the second I walked into the room, Kelli’s hand shot up in the air and she said something to Heidi who turned around to wave. As I made my way toward them, I passed Hal and Nia sitting together at one of the small tables by the windows that someone must have thought would make the place feel more like a café. They were leaning toward each other and Nia was talking and gesturing.

Even as every atom in my being longed to know what she was saying, I couldn’t not be conscious of the nearby table of upperclassmen, some of whom I recognized, who were looking at me. I realized everyone must have heard about the VP’s car by now. And if they’d heard about the car, they’d probably heard about the three people who’d been called into the office: Nia, Hal, and me.

Would they think the three of us were friends now?

At our school, there are a lot of what I think of as social neutrals in the ninth grade. You know, they’re not popular, but they’re not unpopular. Nia Rivera was so totally not one of those people. The irony of it is, she’d had to work to be the outcast she’d become. I mean, even with her baggy sweatpants and lumpy ponytails and geeky glasses and angry, confrontational attitude, I still think that, if for no other reason than her brother, she could easily have spent her life as a social neutral.

Could have, that is, if she hadn’t turned Heidi and Traci in for cheating on a math test two years ago.

Remembering the poisonous song Heidi had made up about Nia after the cheating incident (the song she’d then taught to the entire grade) made it easy for me to turn my feet in the direction of my usual table. I may have wanted to know what Nia was saying, but this was a perfect example of curiosity having the potential to murder the cat.

Or at least the cat’s social life.

“OH MY GOD!” Heidi yanked me into the seat next to her. “I heard everything!”

“This is the most insane thing ever!” said Kelli.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” said Traci.

“We were, like, freaking out,” said Kelli.

Kelli and Heidi both have long blond hair, and when we’re all out together, people think they’re sisters, which they sometimes pretend that they are. Traci gets her straight black hair from her mom, who’s Chinese, and her blue eyes from her dad. All three of them look like they could be models, which, as you can imagine, does wonders for my self-image. I mean, I’m not a dog or anything, but my legs are kind of on the short side, and my hair’s more frizzy than curly, and even on my best, best day, I could never be taken for someone whose only job is to look good. Which is probably about reason number one hundred and fifty why it’s so incredible that I’m one of the I-Girls and that a popular and great-looking guy like Lee would choose me for his girlfriend. Or kind-of girlfriend. Or whatever we are.

“So first of all, what did he want you for? You don’t even know that girl.”

Heidi always called Amanda “that girl,” refusing to dignify her with a name. Heidi’s mom is kind of a celebrity in Orion because she’s a TV reporter, and her dad is the police chief, so everyone knows her and her family. Even if she weren’t beautiful and rich and popular, Heidi would definitely be somebody because of who her parents are, and everyone at Endeavor is a little intimidated by her. Even the senior girls (even the popular senior girls) always say hi to her in the halls. The four of us were almost always the only freshmen at parties, and no one ever gave us a hard time because we were with Heidi.