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Next up was English class, where Mr. Edwards practically begged him to stand up and read his short story—the one that had an A+ scrawled across it—to the entire class. Jamal read from his original composition, The Prince and the Frog. He reached the last line: “‘And then they all lived happily ever after. The end.’”
Before his voice died out, the whole class stood up and gave him a standing ovation. “Future Pulitzer Prize winner right here,” Mr. Edwards said, swiping away a tear.
“Wow. Thanks,” Jamal said, clutching his story and taking a bow. His cheeks flushed with warmth, and pride flowed through him. It was almost enough to wash away the guilt.
At lunch, he ate with Colton at the popular table and signed more yearbooks until his hand ached; then in gym class he got picked first and scored the most points. They killed the other team. But Jamal kept noticing a strange shadow trailing him up and down the court.
He was having such a good time, it was easy to brush off the shadow as his own paranoia. Besides, the skull necklace was dark. It wasn’t trying to warn him. He didn’t have any reason to be afraid.
“Wow, you did score more points today,” Colton said, giving him an impressed look. “You weren’t kidding. I didn’t think that was possible, but you couldn’t miss.”
They headed for the locker room. He had no fears of another tighty-whities incident. No worries about getting bullied. This was hands down the single best day of his life. Or it would have been, he thought glumly, if my brother could have been here.
“Sorry, but it’s my turn…just this once…then I’ll fix it,” Jamal whispered. “I promise. I’ll find a way to make it right.”
“Talking to someone?” Colton said, catching his eye.
Jamal flinched. “Uh, just my shadow,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“Always a joker,” Colton replied. “Come on, let’s hit the showers.”
When Jamal, wrapped in a towel, entered the locker room and headed for the showers, he noticed something strange. The shadow was following him—the one he’d noticed trailing him all day long. Jamal’s heart raced. It had to be the shadow man’s doing.
But what does Dr. Facilier want now?
He darted into the shower and closed the curtain, but the shadow slipped underneath. It was shaped like a boy. The shadow reached its clawlike hands out toward Jamal.
“No, stay away,” he hissed, backing up in fear.
Automatically, Jamal reached for the skull necklace around his neck. It had protected him from the shadow monsters before. But it wasn’t glowing; the eye sockets were dark. That was strange. It always warned him when Dr. Facilier was nearby. Why wasn’t it working?
The shadow monster cornered Jamal in the shower. The fingers stretched into sharp talons. It cracked its mouth open, as if to devour him. A strange, raspy voice emerged.
“Help me, Little J!”
It was Malik.
“Please…help me, Little J,” rasped the shadow. The voice sounded creepy and distorted, but there was no mistaking it was Malik. His brother was the only one who used that nickname for him.
Jamal stared at the shadow in shock. “Malik…is that you?”
That explained why the skull necklace hadn’t lit up. This wasn’t the shadow man haunting him—it was his own brother.
Except his brother was now a walking, talking shadow.
“Wh-what happened to me?” Malik croaked, looking down at his shadow hands in dismay. “Nobody can see me—except for you. It’s like I’m invisible….”
“Well, now you know how it feels…” Jamal muttered despite his shock, though he immediately regretted it.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Malik rasped, taken aback.
“I’m sorry,” Jamal said, feeling terrible. “It’s just…that’s how I’ve felt all this time. Like I’m invisible. Like I’m in your shadow. Only I didn’t mean for it to happen like this….”
“For what to happen—”
Suddenly, a hand slapped the shower curtain.
Jamal jumped back. Malik—shadow Malik—froze.
