Free Let's Get Invisible by R. L. Stine

mine. I felt hot breath on my face.
Sour-smelling and moist.
    It reached for me. It grabbed my face.
    I opened my eyes in terror.
    “Whitey!” I cried.
    The dumb dog was standing on his hind paws, leaning over the blanket,
furiously licking my face.
    “Whitey, good dog!” I cried, laughing. His scratchy tongue tickled. I was never so glad to see him.
    I hugged him and pulled him up into the bed. He whimpered excitedly. His tail
was wagging like crazy.
    “Whitey, what’s got you so worked up?” I asked, hugging him. “Do you hear
voices, too?”
    He uttered a low bark, as if answering the question. Then he hopped off the
bed and shook himself. He turned three times in a tight circle, making a place
for himself on the carpet, and lay down, yawning loudly.
    “You’re definitely weird tonight,” I said. He curled himself into a tight
ball and chewed softly on his tail.
    Accompanied by the dog’s gentle snores, I eventually drifted into a restless
sleep.
    When I awoke, the morning sky outside my bedroom window was still gray. The
window was open just a crack, and the curtains were swaying in a strong breeze.
    I sat up quickly, instantly alert. I have to stop going up to the attic, I
thought.
    I have to forget about the stupid mirror.
    I stood up and stretched. I’ve got to stop. And I’ve got to get everyone else
to stop.
    I thought of the whispered cry from the night before. The dry, sad voice,
whispering my name.
    “Max!”
    The voice from outside my room startled me out of my chilling thoughts.
    “Max—time to wake up! We’re going to Springfield, remember?” It was my mom
out in the hallway. “Hurry. Breakfast is on the table.”
    “I’m already up!” I shouted. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
    I heard her footsteps going down the stairs. Then I heard Whitey downstairs
barking at the door to be let out.
    I stretched again.
    “Whoa!” I cried out as my closet door swung open.
    A red Gap T-shirt rose up off the top shelf and began to float across the
room.
    I heard giggling. Familiar giggling.
    The T-shirt danced in front of me.
    “Lefty, you’re ridiculous!” I yelled angrily. I swiped at the T-shirt, but it
danced out of my reach. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”
    “I had my fingers crossed,” he said, giggling.
    “I don’t care!” I cried. I lunged forward and grabbed the shirt. “You’ve got
to stop. I mean it.”
    “I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, pretending his feelings were hurt.
A pair of jeans floated up from the closet shelf and began to parade back and
forth in front of me.
    “Lefty, I’m going to murder you!” I shouted. Then I lowered my voice,
remembering that Mom and Dad might hear. “Put that down—now. Go upstairs and
turn off the mirror light. Hurry!”
    I shook my fist at where the jeans were marching. I was so angry.
    Why did he have to be so dumb? Didn’t he realize that this wasn’t just a
game?
    Suddenly, the jeans collapsed in a heap on the carpet.
    “Lefty, toss them to me,” I instructed him. “Then get upstairs and get
yourself visible again.”
    Silence.
    The jeans didn’t move.
    “Lefty—don’t fool around,” I snapped, feeling a stab of dread in the pit of
my stomach. “Toss me the jeans and get out of here.”
    No reply.
    The jeans remained crumpled on the carpet.
    “Stop this stupid game!” I screamed. “You’re not funny! So just stop it.
Really. You’re scaring me!”
    I knew that’s what he wanted to hear. Once I admitted that he was scaring me,
I was sure he’d giggle and go do as I said.
    But no. The room was still silent. The curtains fluttered toward me, then
pulled back with a gentle rustling sound. The jeans lay crumpled on the carpet.
    “Lefty? Hey, Lefty?” I called, my voice trembling. No reply.
    “Lefty? Are you here?” No. Lefty was gone.

 
 
17
     
     
    “Lefty?” My voice came out weak and trembling.
    He wasn’t there. It wasn’t a game. He was gone.
    Without thinking, I