Skin

1

Mom buried her face in People while we waited in the examining room for the doctor. The nurse had seemed nice, if a little frustrated, when she was taking my temperature. She took it twice. Then she frowned at the thermometer and scribbled something down.

There was a shuffle in the hall, a pause, then a knock. The doctor came in, holding out his hand. Hello, I’m Dr. Farmer.

Dr. Zach Farmer was younger than I’d expected. He was looking at me intently, the way doctors do. I could tell he was wondering about my sweater. It was the warmest thing I could find, a wool cardigan Mom’s last boyfriend had left at the house nine months ago. I’m sure it looked out of place. It was early fall, but the weather was still like summer.

Mom jumped up. Good morning, doctor, I’m Lucille. I’m Nick’s mother. I hope this won’t take a long time. She was dying for a cigarette—it’d been half an hour since the last one. She was crazy jittery.

The doctor’s eyes did something for a split second—annoyance? Then he was back to professional. "I hope so too, Mrs. Barry.

Tell me about your skin, Nick. How long since it got serious?

Mom broke in, I keep telling that boy—sugar, chocolate, pizza . . . . What does he expect? Now the zits are out of control, and we have to go to the doctor! Teenagers!

I thought about disappearing.

Well, the doctor said, acne is different for every person, and the connection with diet hasn’t ever really been proven. Then, turning to me, So the good news, Nick, is that this isn’t your fault.

Mom retreated to her chair and her magazine. Score one for the doc.

So when did this start?

Two weeks ago, maybe three.

Does it come and go? Get worse and then get better?

No, it started, and it’s just gotten worse.

Do you play any sports, Nick? Any hard exercise?

Mom rolled her eyes. OK, Mom, I thought, I’m a nerd. I read. Books. Deal with it.

I answered the question. No.

OK. He looked at his notes. I see you’re allergic to cats.

Mom again. Not till a few weeks ago. Now it’s more like the cat’s allergic to Nick. Toby won’t go near him. When Nick comes close, he hisses.

You aren’t taking any medications?

I shook my head.

Do you feel different, physically, since your skin broke out?

I feel cold.

Chills? Shivering?

Cold. Like winter.

I noticed the sweater. Do you feel cold today?

Yes.

All right, let’s take a look at your skin. Are you breaking out anywhere besides your face? Your chest, back, or shoulders? Usually bad acne spreads around the upper body.

No.

He turned a bright light on my face, and I closed my eyes. For a moment he held my chin, where there were two large, oozing pimples. He felt my forehead.

Hmmm. Your skin does feel cold. Have you been popping or scratching any of these?

Maybe a little.

OK, let’s look at your ears. He quickly checked my ears, nose, and throat. "Now I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs. Could you unbutton your sweater?

Take a deep breath. Breathe out. Another breath—

He sounded puzzled. "Have you been having any

breathing problems? A cough? Wheezing?"

I shook my head.

OK. He moved the stethoscope. Deep breath again . . . . OK, hold your breath for a moment . . . .

He stopped again and frowned. Then he saw me watching him. I probably looked worried.

It’s all right, he said, like he was trying to reassure both of us. You are breathing. It’s just not a sound I’ve heard before. Here— He handed me the stethoscope. Listen for yourself.

I put the discs to my ears, not sure what to expect. What I heard made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It sounded like people. People screaming.

2

My name is Nick Barry, and I’m invisible. At least I was until now. I live with my mom, who mostly doesn’t see me, unless I cause a problem for her.

By problem, I mean anything that would force her to pay any extra attention to me. As she often points out, her life is hard enough without me making it harder.

My father left when I was a baby. Mom says that she didn’t know him for long. He was handsome and smart and wanted to do something with his life. He tried community college twice, but, the way my mom tells it, he spent too much time at the local casinos instead of the local library.

Mom works two jobs. During the week, she’s an assistant manager at Monica’s Gift Emporium. On weekends she cleans