Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend (18 page)

No one gets on the elevator before we reach the eleventh floor, so I step off and climb the last three flights of stairs.

The fourteenth floor is shaped like a spider, with a circle in the center where all the doctors work, and four hallways stretching out from it. I walk down the hallway, toward the middle circle, past open doors on both sides of the hallway. This is another good thing about the Children’s Hospital. The doctors do not close the doors to the kids’ rooms all the way, so imaginary friends who cannot pass through doors don’t get stuck inside overnight.

It is late so the hallway is quiet. The whole floor is quiet. Most of the rooms are dark. There are a bunch of girl doctors in the middle circle, sitting and standing behind counters, writing down numbers and words in notepads and going to rooms when buzzers buzz. They are like the police officers that never sleep. They can stay awake all night but they do not look like they want to.

At the other end of one of the spider’s legs is a room with couches and cushy chairs and lots of magazines and games. This is where the sick kids have recess during the day. At night, this is where the imaginary friends who do not sleep meet.

I used to think that all imaginary friends did not sleep, but Graham said that she slept at night, so maybe there are imaginary friends sleeping with their friends tonight in their hospital rooms.

I imagine Graham sleeping in a bed next to Meghan and it makes me want to cry again.

There are three imaginary friends in the recess room tonight, which is not a lot. All three look like imaginary friends. There is a boy who looks a lot like a person except that his legs and feet are tiny and fuzzy and his head is too large for his body. He looks like one of the Red Sox bobble-head dolls that Mrs Gosk has on her desk. But he has ears and eyebrows and fingers, so this makes him look more like a person than most imaginary friends. Still, his head is so big that I wonder what he looks like when he walks.

Sitting next to the bobble-headed boy is a girl who is about as tall as a bottle of soda. She has yellow hair and no nose or neck. Her head is sitting on her body like a snowman. She doesn’t blink.

The third looks like a boy-sized spoon with two big, round eyes, a tiny mouth and stick-figure legs and arms. He is silver all over and wearing no clothes, but he doesn’t need to wear clothes because, except for his arms and legs, he looks just like a spoon.

Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s a he or a she. Sometimes imaginary friends are neither. I think it might just be a spoon.

As I enter, they stop talking and stare at me. But they do not look into my eyes, probably because they think I am a human person.

‘Hello,’ I say and the spoon gasps. The bobble-headed boy jumps and his head bobbles just like Mrs Gosk’s bobble-head doll.

The little tiny girl doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

‘I thought you were real,’ the spoon says. He is so surprised that it sounds like he is choking on his words. He has a boy’s voice, so I think it’s a he.

‘Me too!’ the bobble-head boy says. He sounds very excited.

‘Nope. I’m like you. My name is Budo.’

‘Wow. You look so real,’ the spoon says. He can’t stop staring.

‘I am real. As real as you.’

Every time I talk to imaginary friends I have this same conversation. They are always surprised that I am not a human person and they always say how real I look. Then I have to remind them that they are real, too.

‘Sure,’ the spoon says. ‘But you look like a real human.’

‘I know,’ I say.

After a moment of silence, the spoon speaks. ‘I’m Spoon,’ he says.

‘I’m Klute,’ the bobble-head boy says. ‘She is Summer.’

‘Hi,’ the little girl says in a teeny tiny voice. All she says is ‘Hi,’ and I can already tell that she is sad. As sad as I have ever seen someone. Sadder than Max’s dad when Max won’t play catch right.

Maybe as sad as I still feel about Graham.

‘Do you have someone here?’ Spoon asks.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you have a human friend at the hospital?’

‘Oh, no,’ I say. ‘I came to visit. I come here sometimes. It’s a good place to find imaginary friends.’

‘That’s true,’ Klute says, shaking his head and making it bobble around. ‘Me and Eric have been here for a week and I have never seen so many imaginary friends.’

‘Eric is your human friend?’ I ask.

Klute bobbles a yes.

‘How long have you been alive?’ I ask.

‘Since summer camp,’ Klute says.

I count back to the beginning of summer. ‘Five months?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. I don’t count months.’

‘How about you?’ I ask Spoon.

‘This is my three year,’ Spoon says. ‘Preschool, kindergarten and now first grade. That’s three years. Right?’

‘Yes,’ I say. I’m shocked that Spoon is so old. Imaginary friends who don’t look like human people don’t usually last very long. ‘Three years is a long time,’ I say.

‘I know,’ Spoon says. ‘I’ve never met anyone older.’

‘I’m almost six,’ I say.

‘Six what?’ Klute asks.

‘Six years,’ I say. ‘Max is in third grade now. Max is my human friend.’

‘Six years?’ Spoon asks.

‘Yes.’

No one says anything for a moment. They just stare at me.

‘You left Max?’ This is Summer speaking. Her voice is tiny, but it surprises me.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘You left Max at home?’

‘Actually, no. Max isn’t home. He’s away.’

‘Oh.’ Summer is silent for a moment, and then she asks, ‘Why didn’t you go with Max?’

‘I couldn’t. I don’t know where he is.’

I am about to explain what happened to Max when Summer speaks again. Her voice is still tiny but somehow it is loud, too.

‘I could never leave Grace,’ she says.

‘Grace?’ I ask.

‘Grace. My human friend. I could never leave her. Not even for a second.’

I open my mouth again to explain what happened to Max but Summer speaks first.

‘Grace is dying.’

I look at Summer. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. I do not know what to say.

‘Grace is dying,’ Summer says again. ‘She has leukemia. That’s bad. It’s like the worst flu a human person could ever get. And now she is dying. The doctor man told Mommy that Grace is going to die.’

I still don’t know what to say. I try to think of something to make her feel better or make me feel better, but Summer speaks again before I can.

‘So don’t leave Max for too long, because he might die someday, too. And you wouldn’t want to miss out on playing with him when he is still alive.’

I suddenly realize that Summer’s voice hasn’t always been this tiny or this sad. It is tiny and sad because Grace is dying, but there was a time when Summer was smiling and happy. I can see that happy version of Summer now, like a shadow around this sad version of her.

‘I mean it,’ she says. ‘Human friends don’t live for ever. They die.’

‘I know,’ I say.

I don’t tell her that Max dying is all I can think about.

Instead, I tell Summer and Spoon and Klute about Max. I start by describing Max. How much he loves Lego and Mrs Gosk. The way he gets stuck. His bonus poops. His parents. His fight with Tommy Swinden. Then I tell them about Mrs Patterson and what she did to him. How she tricked Max. How she tricked everyone except for me.

Except she tricked me, too, or I would be with Max right now.

I can tell by the way that they listen that Spoon understands what I say the best, but that Summer understands how I feel the best. She is scared for Max, almost as much as I am, I think. Klute listens, but he reminds me of Puppy. I don’t think he understands at all. He is just trying to keep up.

‘You have to find him,’ Spoon says when I’m done explaining. He says it with the same voice that Max uses when he talks to his toy soldiers. He doesn’t just say it. He orders it.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘But I don’t know what to do when I find him.’

‘You have to help him,’ Summer says. Her voice is not tiny anymore. It’s still soft, but it is not tiny.

‘I know,’ I say again. ‘But I don’t know how. I can’t tell the police or Max’s parents where Max is.’

‘I didn’t say to help the police people,’ Summer says. ‘I said to help Max.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I say.

‘First you have to find him,’ Spoon says.

I watch Klute’s head bobble around as he turns from me to Summer and to Spoon and back to me.

He’s barely keeping up, I think.

‘You have to help him,’ Summer says, and now she sounds annoyed. Angry, even. ‘You have to help him get back to his mommy and daddy.’

‘I know, but if I can’t tell the police or his parents, it’s—’

‘
You
have to do it,’ Summer says.

It’s like she’s screaming even though she is talking in her same tiny voice. It sounds the same but it isn’t tiny anymore at all. It’s huge. Summer seems huge. She is still the size of a soda bottle but she seems bigger now.

‘Not the police,’ she says. ‘You. You have to save Max. Do you know how lucky you are?’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘Grace is dying. She is going to die and I can’t help her. I can sit by her and try to make her smile, but I can’t save Grace. She is going to die and be gone for ever and I can’t help her. I can’t save her. But you can save Max.’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say.

I’m staring down at this tiny little girl with the tiny little voice but I’m the one who feels tiny now. It’s as if Summer has all the answers. I am the oldest imaginary friend maybe in the world but this little girl knows everything and I do not know anything.

That’s when I realize that she may know the answer to the question.

‘What will happen to you when Grace dies?’ I ask.

‘Are you worried that Max might die?’ she asks. ‘That the teacher will die him?’

‘Maybe,’ I say. I feel bad for thinking it, but I know it’s true. Not thinking about things doesn’t make them not true.

‘Are you worried for Max or for you?’ Summer asks.

I think about lying but I can’t. This tiny little girl with the tiny little voice knows everything. I know it.

‘Both,’ I say.

‘You can’t worry about yourself,’ she says. ‘Max might die, and you have to save him. You might save yourself by saving Max, but that’s not important.’

‘What will happen when Grace dies?’ I ask again. ‘Will you die?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Summer says.

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘Yeah. Why?’ Spoon asks.

Klute bobbles in agreement. We all want to know.

Summer says nothing, so I ask again. I’m afraid to ask. I’m a little afraid of Summer now. I can’t explain why, but it’s true. I’m afraid of this tiny girl with this tiny voice. But still, I have to ask.

‘Will you die when Grace dies?’

‘I think so,’ she says, looking at her tiny feet. Then she looks up at me. ‘I hope so.’

We stare at each other for a long time, and finally she speaks.

‘Are you going to save Max?’ she asks.

I nod.

Summer smiles. It is the first time I have seen her smile. It lasts for just a second, and then it is gone.

‘I’ll save Max,’ I say. And then, because I think it is important to say, especially to Summer, I add, ‘I promise.’

Spoon nods.

Klute bobbles.

Summer smiles again.

CHAPTER 29

I ride the elevator down with a man who is pushing a machine on wheels. He stops the elevator on the fourth floor and I decide to get out. Just because the elevator was heading down doesn’t mean that it won’t change its mind and go back up. I have seen elevators do this before. I have seen this elevator do it before.

I step off the elevator and turn right. The stairs are around the corner. As I turn, I notice the sign on the wall. It has a list of words with little arrows pointing left and right. I am not the best reader, but I can read some of the words:

→
WAITING ROOM

→
ROOMS
401–420

←
ROOMS
421–440

←
RESTROOMS

And below
Restrooms
, the letters ICU with an arrow pointing right.

I see the letters as a word and say it aloud.

‘Ickuh? Ick-you?’

Then I notice that all the letters are capitalized. This means that it is not a word. Each letter stands for a word. They are initials. I learned this in first grade.

I say the initials aloud. ‘ICU.’ I stare at the letters for a second more, and then I read them again. ‘I See You.’

It takes me a second to remember where I’ve heard these initials before. Then I remember. Dee went to the I See You when she was shot. Except it wasn’t the I See You.

It was the ICU.

Dee could be here. In this building. On this floor. To the right.

I go right.

There are doors on the left and right of the hallway. I look at the little name tags next to each one as I pass. I am looking for the letters ICU or three words that start with these letters.

I find the words at the end of the hall. There are two doors blocking the hallway. A name tag on the doors reads
Intensive Care Unit.

ICU.

I do not know what
Intensive
means, but I bet it means a room for people who were shot by guns.

I pass through the doors. The room is big. There is a long counter in the middle of the room with three doctors sitting behind it. All ladies. The lights are on over the desk but nowhere else. The rest of the room is not dark but dim. There are lots and lots of machines in this room. They are all on wheels. They remind me of little fire trucks, sitting still and quiet but always ready to move.

Around the edges of the room are shower curtains hanging from the ceiling. They wrap halfway around the room. Some are closed. The ones that are open have empty beds behind them.

There are two closed curtains. Dee could be behind one of them.

I walk to the first curtain and try to pass through but cannot. I am stopped by the curtain, even though it doesn’t move when I bump up against it.