Evan picked up his pace. He was about fifteen minutes late. He hoped that Kermit hadn’t already gotten into some kind of trouble.

He had just pushed his way though the prickly, low hedges that fenced in Kermit’s yard when a familiar gruff voice made him freeze.

“Evan—were you looking at my yard?”

“Huh?” Evan recognized the voice at once. It belonged to Kermit’s next-door neighbor, a kid from Evan’s school.

His name was Conan Barber. But the kids at school all called him Conan the Barbarian. That’s because he had to be the biggest, meanest kid in Atlanta. Maybe in the universe.

Conan sat on top of the tall white fence that separated the yards. His cold blue eyes glared down at Evan. “Were you looking at my yard?” Conan demanded.

“No way!” Evan’s voice came out in a squeak.

“You were looking at my yard. That’s trespassing,” Conan accused. He leaped down from the high fence. He was big and very athletic. His hobby was leaping over kids he had just pounded into the ground.

Conan wore a gray muscle shirt and baggy, faded jeans cutoffs. He also wore a very mean expression.

“Whoa. Wait a minute, Conan!” Evan protested. “I was looking at Kermit’s yard. I never look at your yard. Never!”

Conan stepped up to Evan. He stuck out his chest and bumped Evan hard, so hard he stumbled backwards.

That was Conan’s other hobby. Bumping kids with his chest. His chest didn’t feel like a chest. It felt like a truck.

“Why don’t you look at my yard?” Conan demanded. “Is there something wrong with my yard? Is my yard too ugly? Is that why you never look at it?”

Evan swallowed hard. It began to dawn on him that maybe Conan was itching for a fight.

Before he could answer Conan, he heard a scratchy voice reply for him. “It’s a free country, Conan!”

“Oh, noooo,” Evan groaned, shutting his eyes.

Evan’s cousin, Kermit, stepped out from behind Evan. He was tiny and skinny. A very pale kid with a pile of white-blond hair, and round black eyes behind big red plastic-framed glasses. Evan always thought his cousin looked like a white mouse wearing glasses.

Kermit wore enormous red shorts that came down nearly to his ankles, and a red-and-black Braves T-shirt. The short sleeves hung down past the elbows of his skinny arms.

“What did you say?” Conan demanded, glaring down menacingly at Kermit.

“It’s a free country!” Kermit repeated shrilly. “Evan can look at any yard he wants to!”

Conan let out an angry growl. As he lumbered forward to pound Evan’s face into mashed potatoes, Evan turned to Kermit. “Thanks a lot,” he told his cousin. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Which way do you want your nose to slant?” Conan asked Evan. “To the right or to the left?”

“Don’t do it!” Kermit shrieked in his scratchy mouse voice.

Conan raised a huge fist. With his other hand, he grabbed the front of Evan’s T-shirt. He glared down at Kermit. “Why not?” he growled.

“Because I have this!” Kermit declared.

“Huh?” Conan let go of Evan’s shirt. He stared at the glass beaker Kermit had raised in both hands. The beaker was half-full with a dark blue liquid.

Conan let out a sigh and swept a beefy hand back through his wavy blond hair. His blue eyes narrowed at Kermit. “What’s that? Your baby formula?”

“Ha-ha,” Kermit replied sarcastically.

If Kermit doesn’t shut up, we’re both going to get pounded! Evan realized. What is the little creep trying to do?

He tugged at Kermit’s sleeve, trying to pull him away from Conan. But Kermit ignored him. He raised the beaker close to Conan’s face.

“It’s an Invisibility Mixture,” Kermit said. “If I pour it on you, you’ll disappear.”

We should both disappear! Evan thought frantically. He let his eyes dart around the backyard. Maybe I can make it through that hedge before Conan grabs me, he thought. If I can get around the next house and down to the street, I might escape.

But would it be right to leave little Kermit at Conan’s mercy?

Evan sighed. He couldn’t abandon his cousin like that. Even though Kermit was definitely asking for it.

“You’re going to make me invisible with that stuff?” Conan asked Kermit with a sneer.

Kermit nodded. “If I pour a few drops on you, you’ll disappear. Really. I mixed it myself. It works. It’s a mixture of Teflon dioxinate and magnesium parasulfidine.”

“Yeah. Right,” Conan muttered. He peered at the liquid in the beaker. “What makes it blue?”

“Food coloring,” Kermit replied. Then he lowered his squeaky voice, trying to sound tough. “You’d better go home now, Conan. I don’t want to have to use this stuff.”

Oh, wow! Evan thought, pulling the bill of his Braves cap down over his face. I can’t bear to watch this. This is sad. Really sad. Kermit is such a jerk.

“Go ahead. Try it,” Evan heard Conan say.

Evan raised the cap so he could see. “Uh … Kermit … maybe we should go in the house now,” he whispered.

“Go ahead. Make me invisible,” Conan challenged.

“You really want me to?” Kermit demanded.

“Yeah,” Conan replied. “I want to be invisible. Go ahead, Kermit. Pour it on me. Make me disappear. I dare you.”

Kermit raised the beaker over the gray muscle shirt that covered Conan’s broad chest.

“Kermit—no!” Evan pleaded. “Don’t! Please don’t!”

Evan made a frantic grab for the beaker.

Too late.

Kermit turned the beaker over and let the thick blue liquid pour onto the front of Conan’s shirt.