Emily Jenkins - Invisible Inkling

INVISIBLE

INKLING

EMILY JENKINS

ILLUSTRATIONS BY

HARRY BLISS

For IvyE.J.

For SofiH.B.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Secret Stuff, for Serious

The Fur Beneath the Sink

We Sounded Like Secret Agents

Attack of the French Bulldog

Not Actually a Big Round Pumpkin

Theft of Cheesy Goodness

Get Some Squash in That Thing

There Is No Partial Credit

The Invention of Wood Erk

Sprinkie Tax

The Big Fur Fluff-Up

The Squash Situation Becomes Desperate

I Am Not an Ambassador of Goodwill

Terror in the Aisles of Health Goddess

Invisible Blood

A New Plan

Land o Pumpkins

I Play a Mean Trick

Rampage

All Tomato Sauce and Anger

Little Dude, Dont Bite

Destroy This Postcard

I Figured Id Come for Lunch

About the Authors

Authors Note

Copyright

About the Publisher

Secret Stuff, for Serious

Hi, you.

When youre done reading this, can I ask you a favor?

Please dont tell my parents about Inkling.

And dont tell my sister Nadia, either.

Or Sasha Chin from downstairs.

Actually, please dont tell anyone that Ive had an

invisible bandapat living in my laundry basket for six weeks, eating my familys breakfast cereal and playing with my pop-up-book collection.

Inkling needs to stay hush-hush.

For serious.

The only reason I am telling you right now is that if I dont tell somebody, I really think my brain might explode.

And that would not be pretty.

From

Hank Wolowitz

The Fur Beneath the Sink

A thing about me is, I have an overbusy imagination. Everyone says so.

And its true. Im not saying I dont.

I imagine airplanes that argue with their pilots, drinks that change the color of your skin, and aliens who study human beings in science labsall when Im supposed to be doing something else.

Like cleaning my room.

Or listening.

But heres a thing about the invisible bandapat whos been living in my laundry basket. He is not imaginary.

Inkling is as real as you, or me. Or the Great Wall of China.

I know thats hard to believe. I could hardly believe it myself when I first met him.

My family is the Wolowitz family. We own an ice-cream shop a couple doors down from our apartment in Brooklyn, New York. The shop is called Big Round Pumpkin: Ice Cream for a Happy World.

The end of the summer before fourth grade, Im hanging around the shop watching Mom, Dad, and Nadia set up for the day. Thats when I first notice the bandapat.

Mom is sweeping the stoop. Nadia is kneeling on the counter in a spangly purple skirt and enormous black boots, writing on the chalkboard. Dad has just finished churning a batch of his new fall flavor, white cherry white chocolate. Hes been making samples for a couple weeks, and now hes got it good enough to sell to customers. Thats why Nadia is changing the flavor list that hangs over the counter.

A thing about my sister Nadia is, she has pretty handwriting.

A thing about me is, I have invented a lot of new ice-cream flavors.

Pepsi raisin chip.

Cotton-candy Gummi worm.

Poppy seed and waffle.

Sweet-potato pecan.

Dont tell me what you think. I already know most people dont like them.

My own family doesnt like them.

Dad makes all the ice cream himself. He invented white cherry white chocolate, nectarine swirl, and Heath bar brownie. Mom invented chocolate-covered pretzel. Nadia made up cinnamon mocha and espresso double shot.

I have invented eight hundred different flavorsbut not a single one has ever gone up on that chalkboard.

Marshmallow peep.

Caramel popcorn.

Dried pineapple.

Cheddar-bunny crunch.

It is true that after saying no to every other flavor I invented, Dad whipped up an experiment batch of Cheddar-Bunny crunch earlier this summer. I told him how every kid in Brooklyn eats these Cheddar-Bunny crackers for snack. Other salty things are good in ice creampeanuts, pistachios or pretzel bits. Why not Cheddar Bunnies?

Chin from downstairs, my best friend Wainscotting, and Iwe all three spent the rest of the afternoon barfing.

Thats why not Cheddar Bunnies.

Mom said could Dad please not waste time and resources making my weird ice-cream ideas any more. And he said okay.

After that, I stopped trying to help out in the shop so much. My sister works behind the counter on the weekends and in summer when its busy, but Im too young, and no other job is as fun as inventing ice-cream flavors.

Anyway, I first notice Inkling that day at the end of the summer in Big Round Pumpkin. Theres nothing for me to do while everyone is setting up because two days ago, Wainscotting moved away to Iowa City.

Forever.

Against his will.

I dont know how Im going to face fourth grade without him. We have been in the same class together since pre-K.

But I dont want to talk about Wainscotting. It makes my throat close up.

I want to tell you about Inkling.

Its hot that day. Sweaty, smelly, New York City Labor Day weekend hot. I open the freezer and lean my face into the cold. Hank, please, says Mom as she puts fresh bags in the recycling bins.

I close the freezer and just lean against it.

Then I go into the kitchen and lie down on the cool tiles near the big sink.

Youre underfoot, little dude, says Dad as he makes his way from the fridge to the front of the store. Hes got a large tub of ice cream under each arm.

I know I am underfoot.

But I am so, so bored.

I dont know what to do.

I roll over onto my stomach and press my cheek against the floor.

Oh.

There is a Lego propeller underneath the sink.

My Lego propeller that I have been looking and looking for. My City Rescue Copter cant be complete without it.

I reach for itand my hand touches fur.

Fur.

It is so weird a feeling that I snatch my hand back.

Look around. Squint at the darkness under the sink.

Nothing furry there. Just the pipes and a bucket with a sponge in it.

I put my hand back.

Fur.

Definitely fur. Silky soft. Likelike the tail of a fluffy Persian cat.

Ahhhhhh! I jerk back and stand up. There is fur that I cant even see! What is happening?

I stumble as I stand and knock over a stack of

metal bowls on the counter. Bam! Caddacaddacaddathey crash around me with a clatter. Pumpkin-colored sprinkles cascade down my legs and skid out across the floor. Ahhhhhh!

Dad comes rushing in. Hank, you okay?

There was fur under the sink! I yell. I knocked the sprinkles over!

I am feeling a little insane right now. That was so, so strange, feeling fur that wasnt there.

What fur? Dad asks.

Fur! Under the sink. I felt it but I couldnt see it.