Invisible by Pete Hautman

Author:Pete Hautman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

20

OUTRAGEOUS LIES

I am in my pajamas in bed with my eyes closed when the doorbell rings.

“I am asleep,” I whisper, lying to myself now. “I’ve been in bed for an hour.”

I hear my father’s slippered feet stomping angrily from his bedroom to the front door, then voices. At first I can’t hear what they are saying, then my father’s voice cuts through the walls.

“I am telling you, he is asleep in bed. He does NOT go OUT at NIGHT!”

I hear the mutter of other voices, then my father’s again:

“THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?”

More muttering, then:

“OKAY! OKAY, YOU WANT TO TALK TO HIM, FINE! I’LL GO GET HIM.”

Slippered, stomping footsteps approaching. The door opens.

“DOUGLAS!”

I sit up. “What? What?”

“I want you to come out here.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“No you’re not. You are awake. Your eyes are open. Now come out here. Some men wish to speak with you.”

Feigning grogginess, I crawl out of bed and shuffle down the hall after my stomping father.

A large policeman with a mustache is standing in the entryway. I do not like policemen. My heart was pounding hard before; now it’s bouncing off my ribs.

“Come along, Douglas,” my father says.

I edge closer. A smaller man, balding and wearing a green sweater, is standing beside the policeman. Melissa’s father. They are both looking at me.

“That’s him,” says Mr. Haverman.

The policeman holds up his hand, silently asking Mr. Haverman to shut up. He says to me, “Well, son?” He has a nice voice.

“Well what?”

“I understand you were visiting Woodland Trails this evening.”

I shake my head.

“See?” says my father. “He was in BED. I TOLD you.”

A new voice enters the conversation. “What is going on here?” It’s my mother, clutching the front of her bathrobe.

“Go back to BED, Andrea!” my father snaps.

She shudders as if his words were stones, then turns and shuffles back to her room.

The policeman says, “What time did you go to bed, son?”

“Nine fifty-six.”

“You know the exact time?”

“I always check the clock.”

“You’re sure you weren’t over in Woodland Trails?”

“I’ve been in bed,” I say. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a lying little pervert,” says Mr. Haverman. “I know it was you in that tree!”

“IF HE SAYS HE WAS SLEEPING, HE WAS SLEEPING!”

“Please, sirs,” the policeman says, giving both of them a look. He steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders. Each hand weighs about ten pounds. “Look me in the eye, son, and tell me where you were tonight.”

“I was asleep,” I say, the lie coming easily. “I was sleeping in my bed.”

The policeman keeps his hands on my shoulders for a few seconds as he stares into my eyes, then he turns to Mr. Haverman and says, “Sir, the boy says he’s been at home.”

“I know what he says. He’s lying.”

“I’m not lying,” I lie.

“MY son is NOT A LIAR!”

“He’s been harassing my daughter at school. Staring at her. Everybody knows about him.”

“Sir, did you actually see him? I know you saw someone up in that tree, but did you see him clearly enough to identify him?”

“It was him.

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