The Invisible Enemy by Marthe Jocelyn Page B

effective. The new recipe has some real benefits, like being able to shop at Fairway for Power Puppy Pork Chunks any day of the week instead of beetling down to Chinatown for fungi.”
    “Wait a second!” interrupted Alyssa.
    We stepped off the escalator and wove our way through the tables toward the door. All the holiday books were on sale, and lots of readers were browsing.
    “Dog food seems to work faster,” Jody continued, “but she still has to soak for at least—”
    “I said, stop right there!” Alyssa burst out.
    I’d been dreading this moment.
    “Let me get this straight. Did you say ‘soak in dog food’?”
    I shook my head at Jody, signaling her to proceed carefully, or maybe even outright lie, but she was focused on the space where Alyssa seemed to be. A man with earmuffs was watching us. I hoped he couldn’t hear properly.
    “It’s a mixture of dog food and mushroomsoup,” Jody explained, trying to convince us both, I guess. “It’s freeze-dried in a sort of primitive manner, in waxed-paper pouches. My mother found a few lumps in the freezer last week, and I told her they were rum truffles from the Festivals of Other Cultures class at school. She wanted to know which culture so we’d never go there on vacation.
    “But the freezing reduces the odor and makes the substance much easier to work with. There’s really nothing to be worried—”
    A whole stack of books flew to the floor with a tremendous
thump.
Apparently, Alyssa was wearing the gloves!
    “This was all part of your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it, Billie Stoner?” Alyssa hissed. “You only pretended to have fun and do tricks and everything, just to lure me into the hands of some weirdo science cult, but if you think I’m going to jump into a tub full of dog-food slush, you’re beyond whack!”
    A basket full of holly-shaped bookmarks fluttered over the carpet. A second pile of books teetered in the air, ready to follow.
    A little kid screamed in his stroller. People browsing looked over our way.
    “Alyssa!” I yelled.
    “How is she doing that? Why can we see the books?” Jody clasped her hands in ecstasy. “This is amazing! Astounding! Wonderful!”
    Before I could explain, the books slammed to the ground, hammering my toes. I hopped up and down, biting my lip not to cry. We heard angry feet stomp across the floor. After a second of amazed silence, the clamor of catastrophe broke out all around us. I spotted Hubert’s yellow vest weaving through the crowd, but I wasn’t waiting around. Jody and I took one look at each other and pelted for the doors.

21 • Now What?
    O utside on Broadway, we ducked around the corner and leaned against the brick wall of the store, panting. It took me a minute to realize that Jody was raving on about the fantastic leapin scientific knowledge that we’d just witnessed.
    “Jody,” I explained, “she’s wearing gloves. Medical gloves. It happened last night for the first time. The latex somehow prevents the disappearing effect from passing through.”
    Jody closed her eyes and swayed gently back and forth as if she was thinking really hard. I scanned the crowded Saturday-afternoon street.
    “Alyssa?” I said loudly. “Alyssa?”
    Jody opened her eyes.
    “We have to find Alyssa,” I said.
    The glass doors of Barnes & Noble swung open. Hubert and Jean-Pierre came out and looked around. They began to walk in the wrong direction.
    “Hubert!” I shouted. “Over here!”
    Hubert and Jean-Pierre turned abruptly and started to jog toward us when suddenly—
bam!
—Jean-Pierre collided with thin air and staggered to one side, holding his forehead.
    “I guess we know where Alyssa is,” said Jody, jogging toward them.
    Hubert was inspecting Jean-Pierre’s temple.
    “Nice egg.” He scraped a mittenful of snowoff the hood of a parked car and held it against the bump.

    My heart went soft. I loved that side of Hubert, the motherly-make-you-feel-better side. He was such a good