Page 21 of The Unseen

“Jesus. No. What’s wrong with you? We make toys for kids.”

She swallows a french fry whole like a duck. No chewing, just swallowing.

“So why all the secrets?”

“It’s a small town, lots of pride. They like my family and all, but they wouldn’t want any handouts. Not from me.”

“But you’re keeping them in their houses. You’re a saint. You’re making toys for kids? You’re literally Santa.”

“No.” I clear my head with a shake. She doesn’t need to understand any more than that. “You need to figure out who owns these companies that I’m supposedly paying. Something’s off. I can’t go looking into it. Like you said, my face won’t go unnoticed.”

“Gotcha.” She sits back and finishes off my water.

When she doesn’t say more, I raise my eyebrows and gesture for her to go on.

“Calm your eyebrows. What do you want to know?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know.” I lean in and whisper with gusto, “When did you start—uh.”

“Turning invisible?”

My wince is subtle, but she purses her lips at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious. I don’t think.” She studies the street. It’s crowded with tourists and shoppers and everybody in between. “Four years ago. Though I think maybe I could always do it. I don’t know. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Okay. How does it work?”

“Not sure.”

“Can anybody else do it?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you know?” I grip my fork, to keep it from flying at her head.

She sighs and tucks her knees under her chin and sits in a little ball on the metal bistro chair. She has only stopped eating because the plates are licked clean.

“I know that I can go for about fifteen minutes at a time. Any more than that and I start to get… weird. The longest I was ever Under was that day at the theater, and you saw how that worked out.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. I think it’s dehydrating me or something. I get all the bad side effects of drinking: dehydration, vertigo, but none of the perks.”

“Like what? Lowered inhibitions? Lack of volume control?”

She laughs high and sweet, and I feel like I’ve won an Oscar.

“Good point. I guess, I mean, it’s not fun. That’s really all I know. I didn’t even know I couldn’t be heard until yesterday. I’m never around anybody to practice.”

I’m about to suggest that we work together to find out more but I can tell I’ve already pushed her way past her comfort zone.

“I could kind of hear you but not clearly,” I say. “And that might be because I can see you.”

“Good point.” She studies a passing plane. “I have no idea why you can see me or if anybody else can. I will say, I’ve been doing this almost every day for four years, around hundreds of people, and not once did anybody ever see me.”

“Makes you think…”

“What?” she snaps.