Imaginary Friend - Stephen Chbosky Page 0,183

remember what happened to him. He could see nothing.

“So, we know where she’s going,” Christopher said, trying to sound a lot braver than he felt. “We can still get the key. We can still kill her.”

“You don’t understand. You don’t just walk up to the path. It’s surrounded by her guards. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.”

“I’m invisible. I can do it. I can surprise her.”

“That’s just what David said,” the nice man replied soberly. “Until she turned his tree house into the back door to this place. Her own sick little joke. And a warning to the rest of us.”

“David wouldn’t have left the clue for us if he didn’t think it was possible to kill her there,” Christopher said. “We need to get that key. What other choice do we have?”

The nice man nodded. There was nothing to argue.

“Come on,” he finally said.

The nice man led Christopher outside. The clouds had cut off the sunlight, turning the day blood red. The temperature had dropped. And a great scream rose from the horizon, hitting the sky like a cue ball on a perfect break, scattering the clouds. It sounded like a thousand people thrown into a fire and burned alive.

“What is that?” Christopher asked.

“Her army.”

He quickly led Christopher to the school playground. Christopher looked at the four-square court and the baseball field. The nice man got down on one knee.

“Christopher, listen to me carefully, because this might be the last chance I have to tell you this. The imaginary world is like a dream. And you can do anything in a dream, right? Just close your eyes, calm your mind, and use your imagination. That’s how it works here. If you can see it in your mind’s eye, you can do it. You can fly like Iron Man. Be stronger than the Hulk. Braver than Captain America. More powerful…”

“Than Thor?” Christopher asked.

“Than Thor’s hammer,” the nice man said. “So, if we are going to sneak into the gate, we have to do it quietly. Can you try?”

The nice man stopped speaking, but he didn’t stop thinking. Christopher could feel the words tremble on his skin.

You can fly like Iron Man.

Christopher nodded. He closed his eyes and quieted his mind. He felt the itch crawl over his body like an army of ants. The fever broke out on his forehead. The heat felt like the fire under a hot-air balloon. He looked into his mind’s eye and imagined himself floating like the balloons from the Balloon Derby. The air suddenly growing thinner. He imagined the world from ten feet above the ground. Twenty feet above the ground. Flying like a beautiful balloon.

Jerry found the balloons!

Jerry is going to kill my mother!

The voice came crashing through his mind. Christopher opened his eyes and saw that he was twenty feet above the ground. He panicked and fell, landing on the ground with a thud. The nice man picked him up.

“I’m sorry,” Christopher said.

“Don’t be. You haven’t had enough training. That’s my fault. We’ll find another way.”

The two of them were silent for a moment. Christopher looked at the horizon. He saw a bird flying into the clouds. Another bird dropped out of them. Christopher turned to the swing set. He thought about that day when he first saw the cloud face in the sky. He was swinging. He jumped and the Pirates won the World Series. He couldn’t fly like Iron Man yet.

But maybe he could land like him.

“What about the swings?” he asked.

The nice man looked at the swings and their trajectory.

“Those will work,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Christopher jumped onto one swing. The nice man took the one right next to him.

“Get to the hissing lady while it’s still daylight.”

Christopher nodded. The nice man reached into his pocket and placed a loose, leather sheath in Christopher’s hand.

“My father gave me this,” the nice man said. “Now, it’s yours.”

Christopher unfolded the leather to reveal a dull, silver blade. This was not a gleaming sword from the movies. It was common. Just like him.

“Use it wisely, son.”

Christopher nodded, and they started to churn their arms and legs. Swinging higher and higher like he did with Lenny Cordisco a hundred times back in Michigan. Back then, they would swing as high as they could. Then, they’d let go and jump five feet into the sand. But this was more than five feet.

This was the horizon.

Christopher looked over at the nice man. He had never seen such a serene look on anyone’s face before. It was a father’s

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