Stephen Chbosky - Imaginary Friend

I just wanted to say about all those listed that there would be no book without them, and I thank them with all of my heart.

Liz, Maccie, and Theo Chbosky

Wes Miller

Karen Kosztolnyik

Ben Sevier

Emad Akhtar

Luria Rittenberg

Laura Jorstad

Laura Cherkas

Eric Simonoff

Jeff Gorin

Laura Bonner

Kelsey Nicolle Scott

Ava Dellaira

Randy Ludensky

Jill Blotevogel

Robbie Thompson

Stacy, John, and Drew Dowdle

Fred and Lea Chbosky

And finally

Emma Watson, who inspired the ending on the Perks of Being a Wallflower set

and Stephen King, who inspired everything else.

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50 years before

D ont leave the street. tHey cant get you if you dont leave the street.

Little David Olson knew he was in trouble. The minute his mother got back with Dad, he was going to get it. His only hope was the pillow stuffed under his blanket, which made it look like he was still in bed. They did that on TV shows. But none of that mattered now. He had snuck out of his bedroom and climbed down the ivy and slipped and hurt his foot. But it wasnt too bad. Not like his older brother playing football. This wasnt too bad.

Little David Olson hobbled down Hays Road. The mist in his face. The fog settling in down the hill. He looked up at the moon. It was full. The second night it had been full in a row. A blue moon. Thats what his big brother told him. Like the song that Mom and Dad danced to sometimes. Back when they were happy. Back before David made them afraid.

Blue Moon.

I saw you standing alone.

Little David Olson heard something in the bushes. For a second, he thought it might be another one of those dreams. But it wasnt. He knew it wasnt. He forced himself to stay awake. Even with his headaches. He had to get there tonight.

A car drove past, bathing the fog in headlight. Little David Olson hid behind a mailbox as rock n roll poured from the old Ford Mustang. A couple of the teenagers laughed. A lot of kids were being drafted into the army, and drunk driving was on the rise. Thats what his dad said anyway.

David? a voice whispered. Hisspered. Hisss.

Did someone say it? Or did he just hear it?

Whos there? David said.

Silence.

It must have been in his head. That was okay. At least it wasnt the hissing lady. At least he wasnt dreaming.

Or was he?

David looked down the hill at the street corner with the big streetlight on Monterey Drive. The teenagers passed it, taking all the sound with them. Thats when David saw the shadow of a person. A figure stood in the middle of the pool of streetlight. Waiting and whistling. Whistling and waiting. A song that sounded a little like

Blue Moon.

The hairs on the back of Davids neck stood up.

Dont go near that corner.

Stay away from that person.

Little David Olson cut through the yards instead.

He tiptoed over an old fence. Dont let them hear you. Or see you. Youre off the street. Its dangerous. He looked up in a window where a babysitter was making out with her boyfriend while the baby cried. But it sounded like a cat. He was still sure he wasnt dreaming, but it was getting harder and harder to tell anymore. He climbed under the fence and got wet grass stains on his pajama bottoms. He knew he couldnt hide them from his mom. He would have to wash them himself. Like how he was starting to wet the bed again. He washed the sheets every morning. He couldnt let his mother know. She would ask questions. Questions he could not answer.

Not out loud.

He moved through the little woods behind the Maruca house. Past the swing set that Mr. Maruca had put up with his boys. After a hard days work, there were always two Oreos and a glass of milk waiting. Little David Olson helped them once or twice. He loved those Oreos. Especially when they got a little soft and old.

David?

The whisper was louder now. He looked back. There was no one around. He peeked back past the houses to the streetlight. The shadow person was gone. The figure could be anywhere. It could be right behind him. Oh, please dont let it be the hissing lady. Please dont let me be asleep.

Crack.

The twig snapped behind him. Little David Olson forgot about his hurt foot and ran. He cut through the Pruzans lawn down onto Carmell Drive and turned left. He could hear dogs panting. Getting closer. But there were no dogs. It was just sounds. Like the dreams. Like the cat baby crying. They were running after him. So, he ran faster. His little booties hitting the wet pavement. Smack smack smack like a grandmas kiss.

When he finally got to the corner of Monterey Drive, he turned right. He ran in the middle of the street. Like a raft on a river. Dont leave the street. They cant get you if youre on the street. He could hear the noises on either side. Little hisses. And dogs panting. And licking. And baby cats. And those whispers.

David? Get out of the street. Youll get hurt. Come to the lawn where its safe.

The voice was the hissing lady. He knew it. She always had a nice voice at first. Like a substitute teacher trying too hard. But when you looked at her, she wasnt nice anymore. She turned to teeth and a hissing mouth. Worse than the Wicked Witch. Worse than anything. Four legs like a dog. Or a long neck like a giraffe. Hssss.

David? Your mother hurt her feet. Theyre all cut up. Come and help me.

The hissing lady was using his moms voice now. No fair. But she did that. She could even look like her. The first time, it had worked. He went over to her on the lawn. And she grabbed him. He didnt sleep for two days after that. When she took him to the house with the basement. And that oven.