The Invisible Day Read Online Free

would just have to steal.
    I slipped into the store right behind a man with an orange beard and his little boy. The kid was smaller than Jane.
    “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! I want, I want Sunshine crackers, I said, Daddy, I want Sunshine crackers, Daddy, Daddy, I want Sunshine crackers!”
    “Ben, please use your regular voice. I don’t understand when you whine.”
    This brat was the perfect cover, even if I hadn’t been invisible. He was so noisy that the clerk stared at him in disgust. She didn’t notice the sudden gap in the row of bananas or the bag of Doritos that I scooped from the rack right under her elbow.
    Out on the street again, my neck was warm with triumph. I started to think about the wide range of possibilities for an invisiblethief. F A O Schwarz! Barnes & Noble! The candy department of Dean & Deluca! I could have anything I wanted!
    I ate the banana and tossed the peel toward the wire garbage basket on the corner. Swish. Only Ben saw the miracle.
    “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, a flying banana peel, Daddy, look, I seed, I seed a banana …”

    “Ben, slow down. If you talk in your regular voice, I might…”
    I walked in the opposite direction, toward SoHo. I ate my tortilla chips with what my mom calls gusto. I would have whistled, but my mouth was full. At Houston Street I stopped with a lurch.
    I know it sounds goofy, but I had never crossed such a big street alone.
    “This is a tricky corner,” said a man next to me. I looked down to see if the spell had worn off. It hadn’t.
    “Too many cars making the right-hand turn.”
    I glanced around, wondering who he was talking to.
    “Would you guide me across?” Oh, duh, I thought. He was holding a white cane! I realized that, because he was blind, his hearing was extra sensitive. He knew I was there when nobody else did.
    “Hello!” he said sharply. “Would you guide me across the street?”
    “Of course, sir,” I piped up, “certainly, sir!” I brushed the Dorito dust off my fingers and put my hand under his arm. When the light changed, we stepped into the road. The drivers waiting to turn saw a blind man tapping his way through traffic. We crossed the street safely.
    “Thank you; I’m fine from here,” he said when we got to the other side. A hot-dog vendor looked sideways at him as he waved his cane at me and marched off.

7 • Magic Movie Moments
    T here were ten huge silver trucks parked on Prince Street, a sure sign that a movie was being made. The sidewalk was crisscrossed with black, snaky cords. Blazing whitelights shone down on the Vesuvio Bakery. Tony de Angelo, the real-life baker, was hovering off to one side.
    Every week, it seems, there is another movie or TV show being shot in our neighborhood. It’s partly because of our unusual buildings. They are covered with stone decorations, like chunky old birthday cakes. The roof lines and window frames are covered with angels and lions and curlicues, all made of stone. You can always recognize tourists in New York, my mom says, because they walk along gaping upward. Well, I live here and I think it’s cool, too.
    The bakery is what my mom calls quaint. It looks about a hundred years old, with cracking green paint and a window lined with paper, full of fancy breads.
    Right now there were four husky men trying to aim a spotlight through the window at just the right angle. There was an actor standing inside, dressed like a storybookbaker, with a white hat and floury apron. I guess he was waiting to be lit at just the right angle. Tony wears velour shirts and dark trousers and definitely no hat.
    The angle of the light was pronounced satisfactory.
    “Clear the set! We’re ready for Miss Clare.” The call went out from one assistant to another, down a row of people wearing black clothes and headphones.
    I was thinking, Miss Clare? Could this be the luckiest day of my life? Am I about to see Dana Clare close up? Dana Clare is my favorite actress. She’s only fifteen, and she has already