I hadn’t invited him. Not intentionally, of course—he just slipped my mind like always. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he would come with Lexie. That’s how far out of my mind he had slipped. It spooked me out, the way it spooks you out when you can’t remember something simple, like your phone number, or how to spell your middle name. I heard someone say that when that happens, it means the brain cells that held the information just died, and your brain’s gotta find the information in some backup file. This was not a good thing, because if the Schwa Effect was actually killing all the brain cells that remembered him, I could end up as brain-dead as a Tiggorhoid.

“Hi, Antsy,” said the Schwa.

“Hi, Anthony,” said Lexie.

The Schwa introduced Lexie, and everyone was polite enough, although Ira and Howie made secret cracks about how they look together—then snickered like a couple of fifth graders. I couldn’t get past how awkward this all felt. But the Schwa didn’t seem to feel awkward at all. He stood there grinning like an idiot, and clutching Lexie’s arm like he was escorting her to the Academy Awards.

“Who’s gonna do the honors?” Ira asked.

Usually Howie volunteered to throw Manny to his death, but right now he was too busy staring at Lexie, waving his hand in front of her face. “So you don’t see anything at all?” he says. “Not even shadows?”

“Nope.”

“When you’re blind, you’re blind,” I said.

“Not always,” Howie says. “There are blind people who can read large-print books.”

“That’s ‘legally blind,’” Lexie explained. “I’m not legally blind.”

“Yeah,” I said, “she’s illegally blind. Now can we get on with this?”

“Lexie,” said the Schwa, still holding her by the elbow, “would you like me to guide you to a bench?”

“That’s all right, Calvin, I’d rather stand.”

Ira and Howie shared a look that could have meant any one of a dozen nasty things, then Howie turned to the Schwa. “So, Schwa, done any good vanishing tricks lately?”

While Howie taunted the Schwa, Lexie whispered my name to Moxie, and he led her over to me. “It doesn’t sound like you’re having fun,” she said.

“How do you know? I’ve barely said a thing.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

A train crashed past on the far track, and Lexie reached up to touch my face.

“Don’t,” I told her. “Not in front of the Schwa.” But she couldn’t hear me over the roar of the train. As soon as the train had passed, she leaned in close and whispered, “I really had fun the other night. Let’s go to the movies again.” Then she kissed me.

When I looked up, the Schwa was standing right behind her.