The Invisible Girl

A Trick Up My Sleeve You know, there’s something funny about being invisible. You might think it would be mysterious, even exciting. I personally find it somewhat troubling. On one hand, there’s no need to worry about appearances, you know, your clothes matching, or your hair being combed. That can be tossed right out the window. There’s no denying it; there are definitely some advantages. However, the downside can be a problem too. Like no one in your family ever noticing you. It’s like being a ghost. You can wander around the house all day, and no one will notice. Family members will walk right by you and not even see you, or talk to you. It’s really weird. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me. It’s not as good as it sounds. Especially, when your best friend, who by the way is also your big brother, no longer knows you exist. Life as you knew it has vanished into thin air. Poof! It’s gone. He moves on to the sixth grade and leaves you behind. It hurts, like sticking your finger in a light socket. It really hurts. The more it hurts, the more I think about it; the more I think about it, the more it hurts. It’s a vicious circle. So now you know the kind of pain I’m talking about, maybe you can relate to my story. So here it goes. Before the Magic As far back as I can remember, dinner at the Landry house was the best part of the day. I think everyone would agree to that. Mom was constantly reminding me, “Kylie, say prayer.” She always picked me because I was the one starving and dying to dig in. Mom always sat down last; someone always needed one more thing—bread, butter, a fork . . . you know how it goes. Once Mom sat down, it was all about family time together. She started the dinner conversation going around the table. Everyone having the chance to tell how their day had went. What was good, what went wrong, and everyone’s favorite . . . anything embarrassing. We would always share a good laugh over a funny joke or one that wasn’t so funny, and of course, that made it hilarious. It seemed like there was nothing else important going on in the entire world when we were all together at the table. We shared everything. Little did I know that these were the moments I would later cherish most. As the days and years passed by, life was relatively uneventful. The biggest part of our time was spent in school or playing outside over the summers. You know, just living our lives. I really enjoyed it. I know it sounds a little crazy, but I even like doing homework. I knew as soon as it was done, it was time to play. I didn’t have a bunch of friends, but I liked my teachers. Dad coached flag football over the summers and helped coach soccer. Mom was forever on the sidelines cheering us on. Those were some of my favorite memories. I lived my childhood out in the country with my family, hanging out with my very best friend, my older brother, Kevin. We did everything together; we had so much fun discovering life and getting into trouble together. To this day, I remember all the good times shared, and it still puts a smile on my face. When we were home, it was just “Kev and Kylie.” There were no better friends than us. The countless bugs caught and sacrificed for the sole purpose of scientific discovery. The unlimited number of secrets told to one another—however short lived they were, because I, Kylie Mae Landry, could not keep a secret, and everyone knew it. The clubs we invented, the hours spent working on our hidden tree house, our fort, our home away from home. It was hidden behind the brush and the trees from the house, close enough that Mom yelling for dinner could easily be heard, but hidden well enough to spur on some great imaginary adventures of living in jungles or being stranded on a deserted island. The endless amount of time spent playing tag on the hay in the barn. Those, my friends, were the good times. The times that could never be taken away.