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Like he had never existed at all.
Jamal darted into his bedroom. His parents followed him, looking really afraid now. Jamal started yanking the clothes out of Malik’s dresser.
“Look, these are my brother’s clothes,” he said, pointing to them, then to the twin bed across the room. “And that’s his bed over there. We share a bedroom.”
“Son, those are your clothes,” Dad said, shaking his head. “And that bed is for when your friends sleep over. This is your room.”
“Uh, my friends?” Jamal said. “But I don’t have any friends really. I’ve never even had someone sleep over.”
“What do you mean?” Dad said. “You’ve got a ton of friends. You just got voted class president.”
“And we’re so proud of you,” Mom added. “You won in a landslide.”
“No, Malik is the popular one,” Jamal protested, backing away from them in fear. “My twin brother. He has all the friends. It’s like he has a fan club or something.”
He rifled through the items on the bookshelf and yanked out his yearbook. “Come look, over here…” He flipped to the superlatives. But instead of Malik’s face everywhere, it was Jamal’s.
“W-what happened to my brother?” he stammered, staring in shock at his picture and name over Most Popular. How was that possible?
“Jamal, you have to stop. You don’t have a brother,” Mom said. “I mean, I was there when you were born. I think I’d remember something like having another kid.”
“Yeah, I was there, too,” Dad added. “That’s not exactly something you forget.”
“And the day we had you was the happiest day of our lives,” Mom added with a smile. “We’re so proud of you, kiddo. We couldn’t ask for a better kid.”
“Maybe you should stay home from school today,” Dad said. “I’m worried you might be running a fever. Maybe even hallucinating.”
“No, I’m fine…really,” Jamal said. “It was just a bad dream.”
He pinched himself—hard. But this time, he didn’t wake up. His parents were just as worried as before, and his brother was still gone. Jamal glanced down at the yearbook clutched in his hands. Instead of Malik, he saw himself on page after page, playing trumpet in the jazz band, smiling out of his basketball team picture, winning the top prize at the school science fair.
That was when he remembered the deal he’d made with the shadow man the night before. That wasn’t just a dream—it was real, he realized with shock. He had stolen his brother’s trumpet and given it to Dr. Facilier in exchange for the future he had been promised.
But this wasn’t what I meant, he thought frantically.
He had wanted to step out of his brother’s shadow and get a taste of what it was like to be popular. But he didn’t mean for his brother to be erased entirely.
That wasn’t the deal. He remembered Dr. Facilier’s sly smile when he accepted the trumpet. Jamal reached for the skull necklace he wore. He remembered his grandmother’s warning to stay away from the shadow man.
Jamal’s stomach flipped. He felt sick, like he might vomit. One thought circled through his head.
What did I do last night?
Jamal entered the school with terrible guilt clawing at his insides. What did I do last night? The question ran through his head on repeat, like a bad song you couldn’t get out. Each time he thought it, his stomach twisted. He remembered his parents saying, “Who’s Malik?”
They didn’t even know his brother’s name. That memory made him feel worse. He had to find a way to reverse the curse. This wasn’t what he’d meant when he took Malik’s trumpet and made the deal.
The skull necklace hung heavily around Jamal’s neck. He reached for it and felt the outline of the skull. I should have listened to you, he thought glumly. You tried to warn me.
Suddenly, a jovial voice reverberated
down the hall.
“Hey, look, it’s Jamal,” Colton called out when he saw him. He jogged down the hall to catch up to Jamal. He clapped him on the shoulders. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”
Colton and the other bullies crowded around Jamal, who flinched in response. This had to be a trick.
“Uh, I’m sorry about the game,” Jamal said. “I promise I’ll do better next time and score more points.”
