Imaginary Friend Read online

  READING IS FUNDAMENTAL

  All the sound faded away.

  DRAE TO KEEP KIDS FOF DRUGS

  There was only the room and the sound of Christopher’s mind.

  DARE TO KEEP KIDS OFF DRUGS

  Christopher could read!

  He put his head on his desk and tried to hide his excitement. He wasn’t stupid anymore. And his mom didn’t have to pretend anymore. She would never need to say, “Don’t worry. Keep trying. You’ll get it.” He finally got it. He would make his mother proud with his test.

  Not Mom proud. Real proud.

  Christopher was about to put his big green pencil on his desk and raise his hand for Ms. Lasko when he stopped. Christopher looked around and realized all the other kids were still taking their tests. Heads were down. And big green pencils were going swish swish swish like the doctor’s pen in the hospital. Most of the kids were still on problem number two, including Brady Collins.

  That’s when Christopher finally looked up at the clock. The test had started at eight o’clock that morning. Christopher didn’t even need to do the math in his head. He just knew.

  He had taken the test in forty-two seconds.

  He was so proud that he didn’t even notice the beginning of a headache.

  Chapter 15

  By the end of the day, Christopher’s headache was pretty bad. But he was too excited to show his mother his new reading skills to care. He went to the library to pick out his practice books. Mrs. Henderson was there to help him as always. He chose Bad Cat Steals the Letter E, which she set aside for him special. She was about to give him another Snoopy when he stopped her.

  “Mrs. Henderson, is there a harder book I can try?”

  “Let me see what I can find,” she said with a smile.

  Mrs. Henderson came back with Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. Christopher couldn’t believe how thick it was. For a moment, he thought he should pick something a little less advanced. But when he opened the old book, all of the letters stood still long enough for him to read.

  Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—

  Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

  Not bad. Plus, the cover looked promising. Pirates and treasure? Win win.

  “Do you want something easier?” Mrs. Henderson asked.

  “No. This looks fun,” he said.

  He thanked her and threw the books in his backpack. The clock finally hit three. And the bell rang. And the students filled the hallways like ants in an ant farm. Christopher grabbed his windbreaker from his locker. He said goodbye to Special Ed and the M&M’s.

  And when he got outside, the sky was filled with clouds.

  When his mother pulled up, he climbed in the car, excited to show her his first grown-up book. Until he saw that she had a sad face.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “Nothing, honey,” she said.

  But Christopher knew better. She looked tired and worried. Just like the week before they ran away from Jerry. Something was wrong. But he knew his mother well enough to know that she would never tell him what it was. She didn’t want to worry him.

  And that’s what always worried him.

  He wanted to tell her about his reading all day, but it never seemed to be the right time. She barely talked on the drive home. She talked even less during dinner. And she was in a bad mood about the motel getting so messy and how she “couldn’t be the only one who cleaned up around here.” By the time the nightly news finished the lead story about the Middle East, she had apologized for being cranky and was already asleep in her twin bed.

  So, Christopher let his mom sleep, and he picked up around the motel room. He was hoping if she woke up to a clean room, she wouldn’t be so worried that week. Then, they could have a great Friday night together. He had it all planned. Christopher would wait until Movie Friday to give her the special surprise. Not only would he show her his reading. But he would have his pop quiz back by then, too, and he could show her his perfect math score. She would be so proud that she would insist they go to Bad Cat 3D again. He might even get McDonald’s. Probably not. But maybe!

  Christopher turned off all the lights and then slowly turned down the volume on the TV, so as not to wake her from “resting her eyes.” He went to the desk to read Treasure Island by the window light. He wanted to make it through a chapter by Friday for her. Maybe even two. The desk was messy with stacks of paper. At first, he just picked up the coffee cup, which left a ring on the top. But then, he looked a little closer and realized what they were.

  They were bills.

  Christopher had seen his mom do bills before. She hated them more than anything except maybe parking tickets. But whenever Christopher would ask what was wrong, she would always smile and say the same thing.

  “Nothing, honey.”

  Christopher picked up the first bill. It was from the phone company. In the past, he wouldn’t even have tried to read grown-up words like this. But now, he saw them.

  Third Notice

  Past Due

  He turned the bills over. One at a time. Until the coffee mark went from a wet spot to a small circular dent. On every bill, he saw the late payments and the penalties and the past dues.

  If you had two nickels, one dime, and one quarter, how much money would you have?

  Not enough.

  Christopher couldn’t add all the numbers together. They were way too big. But he knew she couldn’t afford to take him to Bad Cat 3D again no matter how well he did on a test. And she probably couldn’t have afforded it last week, either.

  He suddenly felt very ashamed for all the things he wasted, like Froot Loops. And his hospital and doctors. He cost her too much. Just like his dad did. She put his father’s funeral on a credit card, so he could be buried with some dignity. And she never recovered. He overheard her talk about it to a nice neighbor back in Michigan over one too many beers. And later, when he asked her what was wrong, she smiled and said, “Nothing, honey.”

  Just like she did today.

  So, he promised himself that when she saw his perfect math test and wanted to take him to McDonald’s, he would say no. And if they went to a restaurant with Special Ed’s mom again, he would only buy things that were “market price” on the menu because if they only charged the same price they did at the supermarket, then that would be a good deal for his mom. But most of all, he would never go to a rich 3D movie again. He would get an old movie from the library. And he would read a book out loud to her, so she would know that all of her hard work paid off.

  With this thought, Christopher tiptoed to his sleeping bag. He got out one of his old tube socks. He reached in and pulled it out.

  His pants money.

  Then, he tiptoed around his mom and put it at the bottom of her purse. Jenny Hertzog could say “Floods!” to him for the rest of his life for all he cared.

  Chapter 16

  Floods! Floods!” Jenny Hertzog called out in the hallway.

  But this time, it didn’t bother Christopher. He just felt sad for Jenny like he would for his mom. That didn’t make sense. But that was how he felt. He just thought Jenny was someone who had a lot worse things than “Floods” said to her. Or maybe her dad had a lot of bills at home and was cranky all the time. Whatever it was, he was glad he gave his mom the money. And he couldn’t wait for Ms. Lasko to give them their tests back today, so he could show his mom his first perfect.

  When math period began, Ms. Lasko passed back all of the tests. Christopher looked around the room. He saw Kevin Dorwart got a 7 out of 7. Brady Collins got a 6 out of 7. Special Ed got a 2 out of 7. Matt and Mike got 5 each. But Christopher’s test didn’t come back. He didn’t know why. When the bell rang, and all the kids left for recess, Ms. Lasko kept Christopher after class.

  “Christopher,” she said gravely. “I know you were gone for two weeks, and that you didn’t want to get behind. So, did you…did you look at anyone’s answers when you took the math quiz?”

  Christophe
r swallowed. He shook his head no.

  “I won’t be mad. But I don’t want you to cheat yourself out of learning how to do this for yourself. So, one more time, did you look at anyone’s answers for the pop quiz? Maybe Kevin Dorwart’s paper?” she asked.

  “No, Ms. Lasko.”

  Ms. Lasko studied his eyes closely. Christopher felt like a frog on a dissection table.

  “You know, I’ve seen students who feel so much pressure to do well on tests that they always did badly. And when they were told it didn’t matter, they ended up doing really well,” she said.

  Then, she smiled and gave him his pop quiz back.

  “I’m proud of you. Keep it up.”

  It had a big 7/7 on it with big red marker. And a gold star. And a big sticker of Bad Cat saying, “You are purrrrrrfect!”

  “Thank you, Ms. Lasko!”

  Christopher smiled so big, he couldn’t contain himself. He couldn’t even wait for Movie Friday. When his mother pulled up into the parking lot, she waved. And Christopher waved back with the paper in his hand.

  “What’s with you?” she asked. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

  And that’s when Christopher handed her the test.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything. She opened it up. And read it. And stopped. Quiet. His first perfect. 7 out of 7. She studied the test again for a private moment, then she turned to Christopher. Her eyes had a look of pride instead of worry.

  “See! I told you you would get it!” she said.

  That’s when he showed her his Treasure Island book.

  “I’m on chapter three,” he said.

  She was so proud, she let out a shout and hugged him.

  “This is what happens to people who don’t give up,” she said.

  As he predicted, she offered to take him to Bad Cat 3D again.

  “No, thanks. Let’s get movies from the library,” he said.

  She looked puzzled at first, then relieved. Especially when he said he wasn’t in the mood for McDonald’s or any restaurant food for that matter. He wanted her grilled cheese sandwiches. So, they went to the library and scored with a fresh copy of Bad Cat 2 (“This time it’s purrrrsonal”) and The African Queen for her.

  Then, they got groceries at Giant Eagle for their grilled cheese feast. Christopher saw his mom reach into her purse. This was it! He watched as she pulled out the hidden money. Her face crinkled with confusion. She didn’t know where it came from. But she was happy it was there. She was about to put it back in her purse for a rainy day when Christopher stopped her.

  “Mom, you should get something for you,” he said.

  “No, I’m okay,” she said.

  “No, you really should,” he insisted.

  He squeezed her hand softly. Like his mom buying tomatoes. She seemed surprised. Christopher was not one for insisting on much. She paused for a moment, then shrugged.

  “What the hell,” she told the clerk. “Get me a Sarris pretzel and a lottery ticket.”

  The teenage clerk gave her the world’s best chocolate pretzel and a lottery ticket. To honor her son, Christopher’s mom decided to play the answers from his first perfect test. She handed the girl five dollars. She got seventeen cents back. He saw nothing else in her wallet. She looked at a little tin for charity. A child was staring back at her from a refugee camp in the Middle East. She gave the tin seventeen cents, and they left the store with her purse empty.

  On the drive home, Christopher saw his mother eye the gas tank. 1/4 full. He was grateful it was Special Ed’s mom’s turn to carpool to CCD, or they might not have made it to payday.

  When they got home, the night was quiet and cool. They stood side by side in the kitchenette. Christopher watched his mom drop the grilled cheese onto the hot plate and smiled when the butter sizzled. He listened to the ice cubes clink in the glass as he poured his mom her beer on the rocks. And as always, they planned what to do with their untold riches. Christopher added a sports car in the driveway of their dream house for his mom like Ms. Lasko’s car. For her part, Christopher’s mother was so impressed with his selection of Treasure Island that she pledged she would get him a bookshelf to go with his very own library.

  Christopher turned on the television, which filled the motel room with sounds of the evening news. Christopher’s mother was flipping the grilled cheese sandwiches when the sports coverage ended, and it was time for the lottery. She was so focused on cooking, she almost didn’t hear the first number called out.

  It was a nine.

  Christopher unfolded the TV trays they bought at a garage sale and dragged them in front of the beds. He looked at his math test stuck to the motel mini fridge with a couple of alphabet magnets.

  “Mom, would you like—”

  She held up her hand to shush him. He got quiet and looked at her. She grabbed his math test from the mini fridge and walked to the television. The lottery balls danced in the glass vacuum. Christopher hadn’t been paying attention.

  The second number was 33.

  “Mom?” he said.

  “Shh,” she said.

  She dropped to her knees. Looking at the newsman. Christopher had seen her get two numbers before. That had happened. But now her hands were wringing. The third ball got sucked into the vacuum.

  45

  “Oh, God,” she said in a whisper.

  Christopher had never seen his mother pray in church. But now, she laced her fingers together so tightly, her knuckles turned white. The fourth number got sucked out. And the newsman announced,

  19

  “Oh, Jesus, please,” she said.

  Christopher looked at his perfect test, shaking in her hands. The next answer was 66. His mother had stopped breathing, waiting for the next number to be drawn.

  “Sixty-six!” the newsman announced.

  Christopher’s mother didn’t know it, but she was rocking back and forth. She held him so hard, he could barely breathe. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t dare. She was tense as a board. He looked at the next answer from his test. It was 6. The next number was drawn.

  It was 9.

  “No!” she gasped.

  It felt like an eternity before the newsman turned the ball upside down to put the line on the right side.

  “Six!” the newsman said.

  “Oh, my God,” she said.

  There was one number to go. One single number. The balls danced in the glass box. Christopher looked at the last answer on his perfect test. It was 48. Christopher’s mother closed her eyes. As if she couldn’t bear to look. Couldn’t bear one more loss after so many.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “Mom, you won.”

  He didn’t see it. But he felt her tears on his neck. Her arms held him so tightly that he thought his spine would snap. They would have stayed there all night if the smoke alarm didn’t start chirping. They ran back to the hot plate and saw the grilled cheese sandwiches were now as black as raisins. His mom turned off the burner and opened the window, letting the smoke out.

  “It’s okay. We can still eat it. The grilled cheese isn’t that burnt,” Christopher said.

  “Fuck that,” his mother replied. “Grab your coat. We’re going out for steak.”

  They went to Ruth’s Chris downtown. And even though his mom said to order anything he wanted, he still chose the lobster because it was listed as “market price.”

  Chapter 17

  This is the nicest house we’ve seen,” Mrs. Soroka said as they pulled into the driveway.

  She was a classy lady. Elegant on the outside. But it was learned. Kate knew that. The way some people could throw on a bigger vocabulary than their father and pretend they came from somewhere else. Some people’s fake is more honest than other people’s real. She might have talked fast, but Mrs. Soroka meant every word.

  “The driveway is a little ragged, but you’re a few years from repaving. And I know people who can cut you a deal. We girls have
to stick together.”

  She said that with a wink and opened the car door. It was their third house that day. The first house was too big. The second was too small. And like Goldilocks, they were hoping the third would be just right.

  “The door sticks a little,” Mrs. Soroka said, jangling the keys and popping them into the lock. “But we can add that to the inspection list, and they’ll pay for it.”

  Mrs. Soroka clicked the lock and opened the door with a shoulder bump. Kate stayed behind with Christopher for a moment, looking around the crisp fall neighborhood. All the houses on the cul-de-sac looked clean and rich. As pretty as the changing leaves. There was even a log cabin on top of the little hill across the street. It reminded her of Christopher’s old Lincoln Logs. There was an old lady sitting in the attic, staring out the window. Even at a distance, Kate could hear the creak of her rocking chair.

  “Christopher? Earth to Christopher?” Kate said. “Let’s go.”

  Christopher turned away from the log cabin and followed her inside.

  The house was beautiful. What Mrs. Soroka called a real Craftsman. The living room had built-in bookshelves and a fireplace with enough space for a really nice TV. The whole place smelled like chocolate chip cookies from a dozen open houses. Mrs. Soroka told them that cookies were a trick that real estate agents used to sucker people into feeling at home.

  “Well, it’s working,” Kate joked.

  “Tell me about it. I was skinny before I got into this business.”

  Mrs. Soroka moved through the house, turning on lights. Kate’s excitement grew with each room. The dining room was perfect for four, but could easily fit eight. She could even have company over for Christmas dinner.

  And the kitchen.

  Oh, God, that kitchen.

  This wasn’t a microwave and a hot plate in a motel room. This was heaven. Brand-new stainless-steel appliances. A dishwasher that didn’t leak. A fridge with an ice maker rather than a bucket and a trip down the hall of a motel. The place even had a kitchen island. A God damn kitchen island!