Chapter 2: Invisible
1793 Words
The next morning, I woke up with the same promise I had made to myself before falling asleep.
Today would be different.
I wasn't sure how it would be different, and honestly, I didn't even have a plan. Maybe I would talk more in class. Maybe I would sit somewhere different at lunch. Maybe I would finally find the courage to start a conversation with someone. Whatever happened, I didn't want another day where I felt like a ghost walking through the halls of Stardom Schools.
The problem was that making promises to yourself at midnight felt a lot easier than keeping them at seven in the morning.
By the time I got downstairs, Toby and Sheldon were arguing over whose turn it was to wash the dishes from the previous night while Kevin ran around the kitchen pretending to be some kind of superhero.
"It's your turn," Toby said.
"No, it's yours."
"It was literally yours yesterday."
"Prove it."
"You wrote it on the calendar."
Sheldon paused.
"Okay, that's actually a good point."
I shook my head and sat down at the table.
Mom placed a plate of toast in front of me.
"Eat before it gets cold."
"Thanks, Mom."
Dad glanced at me over his coffee.
"Ready for school?"
"Yeah."
"Any tests today?"
"A history quiz."
"You'll do fine."
I nodded.
The conversation ended there.
For some reason, I wanted to tell them more. I wanted to tell them that I hated lunch breaks because I never had anyone to sit with. I wanted to tell them that every morning I felt nervous walking into school even though I had done nothing wrong. I wanted to tell them that being the quiet girl wasn't a choice anymore—it had become a habit.
Instead, I ate my toast and kept my thoughts to myself.
That was easier.
At least, that's what I told myself.
The bus ride to school was uneventful. Most students sat with their friends, talking loudly and laughing at jokes I couldn't hear. I took my usual seat near the window and watched the city pass by.
California always looked beautiful in the morning. The sunlight reflected off buildings and shop windows, and palm trees lined several of the streets we drove through. It looked like the kind of place where people were supposed to be happy.
I wondered why happiness seemed so easy for everyone else.
When we arrived at Stardom Schools, the familiar feeling settled in my chest.
The feeling of being small.
The feeling of being unseen.
The feeling that everyone else had received a guidebook on how to make friends and fit in, while I had somehow missed the lesson.
Students flooded through the gates in groups. Some were talking about assignments. Others were discussing movies, sports, parties, and weekend plans.
I adjusted my backpack and headed toward my classroom.
"Alicia."
I turned around.
Mrs. Reynolds smiled warmly at me.
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"You did very well on yesterday's quiz."
"Thank you."
"I hope you're considering joining the academic competition this semester."
My eyes widened slightly.
The academic competition was a big deal at Stardom Schools. The best students from different classes competed against one another in various subjects.
I had never considered entering.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
She smiled.
"You're capable of much more than you realize."
Before I could respond, another student called her name and she walked away.
I stood there for a moment.
Capable of much more than you realize.
The words stayed with me long after she was gone.
The first few classes passed quickly. I answered questions when teachers called on me and completed my assignments before most of my classmates. The strange thing about being known as the smart girl was that people respected your grades but rarely bothered to know you as a person.
At least, that was how it felt.
By lunchtime, I was already dreading the next forty minutes.
I carried my tray into the cafeteria and looked around.
Every table seemed full.
Not full of people.
Full of belonging.
There was a difference.
I spotted an empty seat near a group of girls from my grade. My heart beat a little faster as I approached.
"Excuse me," I said quietly. "Is anyone sitting here?"
One of the girls glanced at the others.
Then she smiled awkwardly.
"Actually, we're saving it for someone."
"Oh."
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
I walked away before they could see the embarrassment on my face.
Maybe they really were saving the seat.
Maybe they weren't.
Either way, the result was the same.
I ended up at my usual table by the window.
Alone.
I unwrapped my sandwich and stared outside.
A few students were playing basketball on the court.
Others sat beneath the trees talking and laughing.
I found myself wondering what it would feel like to have someone waiting for me at lunch.
Someone who noticed when I wasn't around.
Someone who actually wanted to hear what I had to say.
"Mind if I sit here?"
The voice startled me.
I looked up.
A girl stood beside my table holding a tray.
For a second, my heart jumped.
Then another girl called from across the cafeteria.
"Emma! Over here!"
The girl looked between me and her friends.
"Oh. Sorry."
She pointed toward them.
"I didn't realize they had saved me a seat."
"It's fine."
She smiled apologetically and walked away.
I forced myself not to react.
But something inside me hurt a little more.
Not because she left.
Because for one tiny second, I thought she was choosing me.
The rest of lunch felt longer than usual.
By the time the bell rang, I was relieved.
Afternoon classes were easier than social situations.
Numbers made sense.
People didn't.
After school, Mrs. Reynolds stopped me before I left.
"Alicia."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I meant what I said this morning."
I looked at her.
"About the academic competition."
"You should think about it."
I hesitated.
"What if I'm not good enough?"
Mrs. Reynolds laughed softly.
"That's usually something students say when they haven't studied."
I couldn't help smiling.
"You've never had that problem."
For a moment, I actually felt proud of myself.
Not because of my grades.
Because someone believed in me.
Someone saw something in me.
Even if it was only a teacher.
When I got home, the house was unusually quiet.
Mom was preparing dinner while Kevin sat at the kitchen table doing homework.
To my surprise, he looked genuinely frustrated.
"Alicia!"
I blinked.
"Yeah?"
"You said you'd help me."
"Oh."
I pulled out a chair.
"Right."
For the next twenty minutes, I explained fractions to him.
At first he complained.
Then he groaned dramatically.
Then he finally understood.
"Oh."
His eyes lit up.
"That's actually easy."
I laughed.
"It is when you pay attention."
Kevin grinned.
For some reason, helping him made me feel better.
Maybe because someone needed me.
Maybe because for once I wasn't invisible.
That night, after dinner, I sat on my bed with my journal open in front of me.
The pages were beginning to fill with thoughts I never shared with anyone else.
I picked up my pen.
Dear Journal,
Mrs. Reynolds thinks I should enter the academic competition.
I don't know if I will.
Part of me wants to try.
The other part thinks I'll embarrass myself.
Lunch was awful again.
I almost sat with people twice today, but it didn't work out.
Maybe I'm trying too hard.
Or maybe I'm not trying enough.
I wish I knew.
Sometimes I look around and wonder why making friends seems so easy for everyone else. I don't think I'm mean. I don't think I'm rude. So why does it feel like nobody notices me?
I stopped writing and stared at the page.
Then I added one more sentence.
Maybe being invisible hurts because I keep hoping someone will finally see me.
I closed the journal and placed it on my bedside table. Outside my window, the sky was dark and quiet, and the house had finally settled into silence.
Tomorrow would come soon.
Another school day.
Another chance.
I reached over to turn off my lamp when my phone suddenly buzzed beside me.
My heart skipped.
Nobody ever texted me.
Confused, I picked it up and looked at the screen.
One unread message.
An unknown number.
For a moment, I just stared at it.
Then I opened it.
The message contained only seven words.
"I know what people say about you."
My stomach dropped.
A second message appeared almost immediately.
"And I think they're wrong."
- Writer
