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Things Not Seen
by Andrew Clements
p.5 Mom's hand starts reaching for where she figures my arm will be. She's off by half a foot, so I lean forward to help out. When her hand hits flesh, she freaks, like she's grabbed a lizard or something.
"Oh, God! Oh, God! It's Bobby! It's him! He's there! He's not...he's not...Oh, God, David, do something! Let's...let's call Dr. Weston--or someone else, a...a specialist."
So I'm thinking, Oh, great. Yeah, let's call one of those Invisible Teenager Specialists. I'll get the Yellow Pages.
p.14 My dad needs one of those collars like they put on dogs that bark too much. Then, when he says, "Bingo!" he'd get a shock.
p.16 Richard Feynman -- funny physicist
p.16 Then I see a pack of gum. I walk to the mirror above my dresser. I unwrap a piece of Doublemint and stick it in my mouth. I open wide, and it's there on my tongue. I shut my mouth and it's gone. I chew with my mouth open, and I see the gum, moving around between my teeth like a gray caterpillar. Then I swallow the gum, just to see what happens--all gone.
Then I work my tongue around in my mouth for about ten seconds, and I spit at the mirror. And I can't see anything on the mirror. I rub my hand over the glass, and my hand feels wet. Invisible spit. I have invisible spit.
p.29 You know how Hemingway writes? He couldn't write anything about this girl's face. Because he'd say something like, "It was a pretty face." And that wouldn't be enough. This face needs someone like Dickens, or Tolstoy. Someone who'd take a whole page and spend some time on her eyebrows and cheeks, or maybe notice the shape of her mouth when she's concentrating or walking with her cane.
( more under the cut )