"So you're going to keep it a secret."
Mack laughed. "All right, Ceese, I'll tell you. I went into an invisible house four doors up from Coliseum on Cloverdale, between Chandresses' and Snipes', and in that house I got hungry and opened the fridge and there was your mama's chili in a glass dish. I nuked it for two minutes, ate it, did the warpath dance cause it was so spicy, then I washed the dish and spoon and put them in the dish drain in that house."
Ceese shook his head. "So you're not going to tell me."
"I suppose it's better you think I'm a liar than you think I'm wacked out," said Mack. "Except that if I'm a liar, you're going to think your mama losing it when she ain't. And you also won't trust my word, but I never lied to you, Ceese, and I didn't start now."
"An invisible house."
"It's only invisible from the street," said Mack. "You get closer, it gets bigger."
"Show me."
"I don't know if I can," said Mack. "Maybe I'm the only one can see it."
Ceese shook his head. "Mack Street, I'm going to hold you to this. You going to show me."
"I can try. I just... maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't. I see a lot of things I don't tell people about," said Mack. "They just think I'm crazy. Miz Smitcher, she showed me early on that I better not tell what I see. It just makes folks upset."
Ceese's face looked cold and distant. "Let's go now," he said.
Mack led him down to the place and all the time he was half afraid that it wouldn't be there anymore, that weird spot in the sidewalk where you could see Skinny House out of the corner of your eye. But it was there.
"You see that?" asked Mack.
"See what?" straight up Cloverdale and then step backward and forward.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to see."
Mack shook his head. "It's there. But like I thought, you can't see it."
Ceese sighed. "Mack, I don't even know why you doing this. It's one thing to make my mama feel better, I don't blame you for that, but telling this stuff to me when it's just us two—"
Mack didn't hear him finish the sentence, because he figured the only proof he had was to have Ceese watch him disappear. That must be what happened when Mack went into Skinny House, so he'd do it when Ceese was watching.
So Mack lined himself up with the thin vertical line of Skinny House and then strode right toward it. As before, it grew wider until it was the full width of a house. He reached out far enough to touch the front door, then turned around.
There was Ceese on the sidewalk, looking around every which way, trying to see where Mack went.
Mack opened the front door and went inside.
There was nobody there. And not a stick of furniture. Nothing in the kitchen, either. No fridge, no dishes in the cupboard, nothing.
But there were five pairs of pants in the closet, hanging from hooks. And when he checked the pockets, five dollars in each of them. Mack took all the bills and put them in different pockets of his pants. Then he went back out the front door and jogged toward the sidewalk.
Ceese was a few paces away, and partly out in the street, still looking for him. Mack called to him, but Ceese couldn't hear him. Not till Mack actually set foot on the sidewalk. Then he whirled around.
"Where were you?" Ceese demanded.
"Watch me carefully," said Mack. "Your eyes right on me."
Ceese watched. Mack stepped off the sidewalk. Skinny House disappeared and Mack clearly did not.
"Shit," said Mack. "All right, look away, but keep me visible in the corner of your eye."
Ceese rolled his eyes, but did as Mack had ordered.
This time when Mack stepped off the sidewalk, Skinny House grew larger and Ceese whirled around to see what had happened to Mack. Mack walked right back to the sidewalk and reappeared right in front of Ceese's eyes.
"Of course I can't disappear," said Mack. "It's not my magic, it's the magic of Skinny House. It's not like I can disappear by stepping off the sidewalk anywhere else in Baldwin Hills."
"You been magic the whole time I looked after you?"
"I'm not magic!" said Mack, and now he was getting a little angry. "Or can't you hear me?"
"I hear you, I just don't—I never saw anything like that before."
"You seen it all the time," said Mack. "In movies and on TV"
"Yeah, but they fake it."
"But do you know how they fake it?"
"Not exactly, but it has something to do with... hell, I don't know."
"You don't know how to do it, it's magic to you." Mack held out his hand.
"What," asked Ceese.
"Take my hand and look up the street. Don't look toward the houses at all. Stand right... right there."
Ceese obeyed.
"Now, when I pull you, you just follow, but don't look where we're going." When he could see that Ceese was following orders, Mack stepped off the sidewalk and headed toward Skinny House.
He half expected to feel Ceese's hand vanish from his, or to have the grass just be the grass between the two visible houses.
But no, Skinny House loomed, and Ceese's hand stayed in Mack's, and in a moment they were standing on the front porch and Ceese was looking back and forth between the neighboring houses and touching the door and the walls, saying, "Good Lord."
"Ceese, I know the Lord got nothing to do with this, and I'm pretty sure that it ain't good."
Chapter 10
WORD Mack and Ceese stood on the back porch of Skinny House, looking at the orange trees and the rusty barbecue and the umbrella-style clothesline.
"We're standing on the back porch of an invisible house, and you still don't believe me?" said Mack.
"Well, there wasn't a fridge in the kitchen, either," said Ceese.
"Because it was your mama's fridge. It was probably all your mama's stuff. I showed you the pants. I showed you the claw marks and the bloodstains. I showed you the five-dollar bills I took out of all the pockets."
"That doesn't prove anything. Lots of people got more five-dollar bills than that."
"But not me," said Mack.
"Miz Smitcher didn't up your allowance?"
"Ceese, you gave me the original five dollars."
Ceese hooted. "That was three years ago!"
"I don't spend much."
"Mack, I believe you, of course I do. But it takes getting used to."
"What's to get used to? Either it's in front of your face or it isn't. This is, so you got to believe it."
"And if it isn't in front of my face?"
"Then you got to have faith."
"When you have faith in something a lot of other people believe, then you a member of the church," said Ceese. "When you have faith in something nobody believes, then you a complete wacko."
"Well, I believe it and so do you, so between us, we half a wacko each."
"And you been keeping secrets like this your whole life?"
"Nothing like this. I only found this place yesterday."
"And there was a man in the house."
"I call him Mr. Christmas." For right now, Mack wasn't interested in bringing Puck's real name into the conversation. He had a feeling that might make things too strange for Ceese.
"Cause he looks like Santa Claus?"
"Well, then, the name 'Mr. Christmas' make perfect sense. I always think of Bob Marley at Christmastime."
"I wish I knew where he was," said Mack. "He could explain things to you a lot better than me.
Except that he lies all the time."
"All the time?"
"No. He tells the truth just enough to keep you from knowing what's what."
"Well, then, I can't wait to meet him. I don't have half enough liars in my life."
"Come on out into the woods with me. Just a little way," said Mack.
"Why?"
"For one thing, so you can see that I'm not making it up."
"I really do believe you now, Mack. I really do."
"You scared of the woods?"
"I'm scared of that panther. He likes you fine, but I don't want to test to see if my pistol can kill a magic cat. Besides, a cop shooting a Black Panther is such a stereotype."
"Ha ha," said Mack. "It ain't that kind of panther, and you no kind of cop at all, yet."