Prologue

You're born, you live, and then you die. If you are lucky, unfortunately I am not. It was only recently that things started to get better. That was before. It was another, plain day at school, exactly the same as yesterday and the day before. I sit by myself in all my classes, never daring to look in any direction than forward, eyes on the teacher. Maybe I would glance at the clock just to see when the bell would save me from this seemingly endless high school horror film. Being shy is one thing, but being invisible is something entirely different.

Usually my parents pick me up from school, but today I walked. I suppose I could have ridden the bus, but I didn't feel like putting up with all the sighs, the stares, and you-don't-belong-vibes. When I walked in the door I kicked off my pink ballerina flats and turned toward the mirror. The person looking back was pretty, petite. She had short brown hair, a little bit further down than her shoulders, and choppy bangs. Her dark blue eyes were sad, but not unhappy. The only thing that stood out was the beautiful blue stone around her neck, sitting above the collar off her white shirt. I sighed and she did the same. Then I turned and left the mirror.

I sat crossed legged on the floor, not caring that I was wearing a skirt, trying to do my homework to pass the time until my parents finally got home from work, I had doctor's appointment. I was hoping they'd tell me that I had some incurable disease, so I would have an excuse to die faster. I would not be worried; I would know that something like that would be what was only to be expected for someone like me, a bad luck magnet. I finished before though so I turned on the television. The afternoon news was on; apparently there was this car accident that resulted in a terrible fire. Poor people, it's nice to know that I am not the only one having a hard time with life.

I could hear the people panicking, the sirens blaring, and the news reporter's voice telling the sad story. Its strange how people can feel so sorry for people they didn't even know existed. You could have never spoken to me, never loved with me, never cried with me, but if I were to die by accident and it made it on the news, you would probably act like you felt sorry for me when you really felt nothing. But as soon as she said the names Susan and James Washington, I knew I would be given a lot of fake pity.

here it is new and improved. dear vilstrup, thanks for the review. it really helped alot and i hope you like the new version.