My Best Friend Is Invisible by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R. L. Stine
Tags: Children's Books.3-5
stories.”
So much for smart parents.
Now what am I going to do? I wondered as Mom placed our dinner on the table. I’ve got to get rid of Brent. But how?
All through dinner, I thought and thought. And by the time Mom served
dessert, I had an idea!
19
“Brent? Are you here?”
I held out a few pieces of chicken wrapped in a napkin. It was easy sneaking
it out of the dining room.
Mom and Dad talked about work all through dinner. Light refraction. Frequency
waves. The usual stuff. They didn’t pay any attention to me.
And Simon was too busy worrying about his science project. He was still the
same size. He even measured his fingernails, but they hadn’t grown, either.
When no one was looking, I wrapped the chicken in my napkin and placed it in
my lap—and Brutus wailed.
Brutus loves chicken.
He tried to jump into my lap.
He clawed at the napkin.
He wailed some more.
“Can’t you do something about that cat?” Mom asked. “Your father and I can’t
think.”
“Come on, Brutus.” I shoved the napkin under my T-shirt. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I jumped up from my chair and waved for Brutus to follow me. He let out a
sharp cry—and ran in the other direction.
Wow! Brutus knows! I realized. Brutus knows that something weird is upstairs
in my room.
I bet that’s why he won’t sleep in my room anymore!
I hurried to my room and held out the chicken. “Brent—aren’t you hungry?” I
stood in one spot. I turned in a circle, holding out the chicken.
“I’m starving. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I felt a light tug as Brent took the
food from my hand.
I watched the napkin unfold by itself.
“Mmmm. Fried chicken.” A big bite disappeared. “This is excellent. Your mom
is a great cook! Thanks.”
“Roxanne’s mom is a great cook too,” I said. “Better than my mom. Much
better. I eat at Roxanne’s house all the time. Whenever I can.”
Brent kept on eating.
“You should eat at Roxanne’s. You’d see what I mean.”
Brent kept on eating.
“Hey! I just thought of a great idea!” I said. “You should be Roxanne’s best friend. Roxanne needs a ghost for our school project. You could be the
ghost! That would make Roxanne so happy! She would have a ghost right in her own
house. And you’d be happy too—eating all that great food! Come on! I can take you
over there right now!”
Brent stopped eating.
“I am not going to Roxanne’s house,” he declared. “She’s a girl. I
don’t want to be a girl’s best friend. I want to be your best friend. And I
already told you—I am not a ghost.”
The empty napkin floated toward me. “Is there any more chicken?” he asked.
“I’m still hungry! And how about some dessert?”
I sat down on my bed and waited for Brent to finish his second helping of
chicken and the bowl of ice cream I sneaked upstairs for him.
Then I tried again. “Brent, you have to leave. You have to go.”
“But I want to be your best friend!” he insisted. “I’m never leaving. NEVER!”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to be my friend,” I told him. “I
have plenty of friends—at least I did, until you came along.”
I stood up and paced back and forth across my room. “You are ruining my
life,” I said. “I want you to leave. I want you to get out of my house and never
come back!”
Silence.
“Do you hear me?”
More silence.
“I know you’re here, Brent. Answer me!”
“Please—can we talk later?” he finally replied. “I’m way tired. I need to
get some rest.”
The covers on my bed began to fold down. Then an invisible hand punched the
pillow.
“Ahhhh,” Brent sighed. “Your bed is so great!”
That’s when I lost it. “We cannot talk later. We have to talk now. I
want you to get out!” I screamed. “NOW!”
“Really?” Brent’s voice changed. Deeper—and meaner. A lot meaner.
“Y-yes. Really,” I stammered.
“And what if I won’t go?” he asked.
I took a step back—away from
So much for smart parents.
Now what am I going to do? I wondered as Mom placed our dinner on the table. I’ve got to get rid of Brent. But how?
All through dinner, I thought and thought. And by the time Mom served
dessert, I had an idea!
19
“Brent? Are you here?”
I held out a few pieces of chicken wrapped in a napkin. It was easy sneaking
it out of the dining room.
Mom and Dad talked about work all through dinner. Light refraction. Frequency
waves. The usual stuff. They didn’t pay any attention to me.
And Simon was too busy worrying about his science project. He was still the
same size. He even measured his fingernails, but they hadn’t grown, either.
When no one was looking, I wrapped the chicken in my napkin and placed it in
my lap—and Brutus wailed.
Brutus loves chicken.
He tried to jump into my lap.
He clawed at the napkin.
He wailed some more.
“Can’t you do something about that cat?” Mom asked. “Your father and I can’t
think.”
“Come on, Brutus.” I shoved the napkin under my T-shirt. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I jumped up from my chair and waved for Brutus to follow me. He let out a
sharp cry—and ran in the other direction.
Wow! Brutus knows! I realized. Brutus knows that something weird is upstairs
in my room.
I bet that’s why he won’t sleep in my room anymore!
I hurried to my room and held out the chicken. “Brent—aren’t you hungry?” I
stood in one spot. I turned in a circle, holding out the chicken.
“I’m starving. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I felt a light tug as Brent took the
food from my hand.
I watched the napkin unfold by itself.
“Mmmm. Fried chicken.” A big bite disappeared. “This is excellent. Your mom
is a great cook! Thanks.”
“Roxanne’s mom is a great cook too,” I said. “Better than my mom. Much
better. I eat at Roxanne’s house all the time. Whenever I can.”
Brent kept on eating.
“You should eat at Roxanne’s. You’d see what I mean.”
Brent kept on eating.
“Hey! I just thought of a great idea!” I said. “You should be Roxanne’s best friend. Roxanne needs a ghost for our school project. You could be the
ghost! That would make Roxanne so happy! She would have a ghost right in her own
house. And you’d be happy too—eating all that great food! Come on! I can take you
over there right now!”
Brent stopped eating.
“I am not going to Roxanne’s house,” he declared. “She’s a girl. I
don’t want to be a girl’s best friend. I want to be your best friend. And I
already told you—I am not a ghost.”
The empty napkin floated toward me. “Is there any more chicken?” he asked.
“I’m still hungry! And how about some dessert?”
I sat down on my bed and waited for Brent to finish his second helping of
chicken and the bowl of ice cream I sneaked upstairs for him.
Then I tried again. “Brent, you have to leave. You have to go.”
“But I want to be your best friend!” he insisted. “I’m never leaving. NEVER!”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to be my friend,” I told him. “I
have plenty of friends—at least I did, until you came along.”
I stood up and paced back and forth across my room. “You are ruining my
life,” I said. “I want you to leave. I want you to get out of my house and never
come back!”
Silence.
“Do you hear me?”
More silence.
“I know you’re here, Brent. Answer me!”
“Please—can we talk later?” he finally replied. “I’m way tired. I need to
get some rest.”
The covers on my bed began to fold down. Then an invisible hand punched the
pillow.
“Ahhhh,” Brent sighed. “Your bed is so great!”
That’s when I lost it. “We cannot talk later. We have to talk now. I
want you to get out!” I screamed. “NOW!”
“Really?” Brent’s voice changed. Deeper—and meaner. A lot meaner.
“Y-yes. Really,” I stammered.
“And what if I won’t go?” he asked.
I took a step back—away from