Like a grain on the beach,
Like a star in the sky,
Far too many to count with the naked eye,
They won't see you,
Go ahead,
Walk on by,
You don't know I'm alive,
Maybe one day you'll find,
You should open your eyes,
You don't know me
It's easy to spot things when you're invisible. You see how everything is different to what it first looks like, how people act, what goes on underneath. Those who have things to hide and those that don't. I see the little things, the ones so easy to overlook. Things which are generally overlooked by everyone, everyone apart from me.
Like how Stan Marsh is always the first to break away from a kiss with his girlfriend Wendy Testaburger, how she always tries to demand his total attention when actually his mind is anywhere but with her, or how Bebe Stevens sometimes sits on her own staring into space, the saddest look in her eyes. I see it all, longing looks, furious glares, I know what's happening before it happens. I enjoy it, considering I've not got much else to do apart from unwrap my turkey sandwich.
I've lived in South Park, Colorado for all my life. Nobody knows my name; well I don't think anyone does. My brother is the most popular Jock on South Park High's Football Team, he brings home friends and girls all the time but none of them know I exist. It's probably the weirdest thing for anyone he tells he has a sister, which I think he rarely does they must be like "What? I've been to your house and I've never seen her, ever", that's because he piles me up in my room. He practically ties me up, gags me and shoves me in the closet.
We're twins; well we're fraternal, which means un-identical. But then again, the similarities are still there, We have the same eyes, we're both naturally skinny and we have the same faces, apart from our noses. Mine is smaller, whereas his is more angled and guyish. Our hair is well, different. Mine is very pale blonde, white blonde even it looks bleached almost, whereas his is mousey brown, my brother does love me but for some reason I can't be seen.
I sling my nondescript light grey hollister rucksack off of my shoulder; my Mom buys me loads of Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister and tons of other really expensive stuff. I don't wear it often, only to keep my mom happy. My hair is in perfectly styled bangs which lean to the left and cover most of my eye; my parting is really far over. My hair is naturally in really crazy waves but I straighten the hell out of it, it doesn't even protest anymore and my eyes are weird, they're baby blue really pale. The one thing my mom let me buy for myself is a pair of light grey/blue mid-shin high converse; she still fretted about them when I bought them.
"Aren't they a bit?" she wrung her hands, as if that had made sense.
"A bit what?" I said, grinning and clutching the box to my chest.
"You know what I mean Panda", she sighed, her perfectly plucked eyebrows pulled together in concern.
"Nope, I like them. I bought them anyway".
Are you wondering what the Panda thing is about? Well, my dad's a Historian and he had to choose my name, because my Mom was unconscious. They'd discussed Gemma, Stephanie, Bethany but my Papa, my dearest Father chose me a name which I am not proud of. My name is Pandora Jacquelyn Bethany Walker. Imagine having to write that every time you filled out a form? The Nurse at Hell's Pass probably gave my Dad a weird look. But then again, South Park is used to loonies. Mom went mental when she woke up. Robert or Bob, my brother, got off lightly getting our dad's name instead of something stupid like Romeo, Caesar or Atilla the Hun or whatever.
Anyway, back on track. Even though I love my Connies there are more pressing matters, like why I'm a loner. Or why our family is beyond rich; Dad discovered some historical thing and got a shitload of cash from it. Mom, well I don't even know what you'd call her job; all she does is fly around to other countries shopping and finding antique crap heaps sending them off to get fixed and selling them to stupid but loaded twats for ridiculous amounts of money. But either way, it lines our pockets well enough.
I actually don't think I've ever been spoken to by anyone at our school, not since Elementary. I went to a private Middle School, which was a while away from South Park, no one remembered me but I don't blame them I used to be an easy face to overlook. But lately things have started changing, it's junior year at High School now and a few people have started to notice me. I've been used to being invisible for so long now, so long. I'm gripping to with it with all I have, I can't handle people anymore, I lost my people skills long ago along with my soul when my Mom sold it to them snobs at Sacred Virginity Institute for Young Ladies. My Mom likes to pain a pretty picture that we're the perfect American family, totally religious and spouting morals out of our ears and shit. Well, my Brother smokes weed and my Dad snorts cocaine, it's not like it's a secret either. My Dad is normal, he isn't a druggy weirdo like you'd expect, and it's just that he needs a high in his very boring day doing Historical shit in his office which is full of thousands of dusty old tomes no one wants to read anymore.
"Hey Panda!" my brother calls from the hallway, kicking off his shoes and thumping up the stairs, which is slightly louder than usual. He knows I'm the only one in at 4 in the afternoon, I lean back into an easy bridge in the middle of my room, my top riding up around my stomach exposing my belly button ring. I'm really flexible, I did Gymnastic training since I was four, swimming at the same age and ballet at age 6, my mom was one pushy parent, scratch that. She is a pushy parent. I hear him push open the door to my room and I smile; I had Fire Flies by Owl City playing quietly from my old boom box that I wouldn't let mom touch.
"Hey Bob", I slowly bring my legs over into a handstand, before glancing behind me and abruptly collapsing on the floor in a heap. In my doorway there were two sweaty, muddy, jock guys. Clyde Donovan, soccer and football star stands next to my brother. Bob rolls his eyes, Clyde just raises his eyebrow.
"Uh? Haven't I seen you before?" he asks confusedly. I just open and close my mouth stupidly.
"You might've seen Panda around school before…" my brother says slowly.
"I've been here loads of times, dude. Why didn't you tell me you had a twin sister?" Clyde asks, completely puzzled.
"B-bob...?" I ask, dumbstruck. I quickly gain composure, springing to my feet "What the fuck?" I motion to Clyde. Seeing his weird look, I quickly add "No offense".
"Uh… I don't know myself to be honest." He admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
"So… Hiding me for around 5 years and now you just suddenly appear with one of your friends at my bedroom door."
"Okay, it sounds bad when you say it like that"
"Well, it's kinda weird for me. Considering I was the invisible sister up until about 2 minutes ago", I shrug. An awkward silence followed.
"Gay baby" Clyde mutters, I smirk.
"Dude, we just ruined some poor kid's life", I laugh, and the other two join in. My eyes stray to the floor, spotting one of my bras. Shit. I 'subtlety' sweep it out of the way with my foot, under my wardrobe. Clyde looks surprised at something then quickly steps forward, one of his dinner plate sized hands offered to me.
"Well, I'm Clyde Donovan", he grins brown hair flopping to his eyebrows.
"Uh, yeah I know. But I'm", I glance at Bob, who's trying not to laugh, Clyde glances around, I sigh shaking his hand "My names Pandora". Clyde gives Bob a 'fo shiz?' look, I blush scarlet.
"Dad called her that, the old nut job." I snort.
"You got off easily you big berk", I mock punch him in the shoulder. The song had changed to Panda Bear, it made me smile because Bob said it was my song cause of my nick name. Bob and me couldn't pronounce Pan-dor-ah at the age of 1-2 so Bob had blurted out 'Panda' instead and it had just kind of stuck. "Please Clyde, call me Panda", I clasp my hands together as if begging. He laughs, even though it was lame.
"Yeah, sure. You're pretty flexible", he nodded, I flushed.
"She practically came out of our mom doing the splits", me and Clyde laugh. "Well, she started when we were four" I nod, moving into the long clear stretch down the middle of my room, specifically for gymnastics. I leap backwards into a rolling handstand-to-splits move. Clyde claps as I lean back into a bridge, one more cartwheel so I can stand back up then I'm up.
"I could do some better stuff if I wasn't in my room."
"Anyway! I'm going to go make me and Clyde some peanut butter and banana sandwiches", I pull a face as the boys laugh.
"Nice to meet 'cha Panda" Clyde grins, winking and making that clicking sound through his teeth while holding his hand in that way that makes it look like a gun, I roll my eyes.
"Back at 'cha Clyde", then they sprint off down the hallway and I pull my door closed.
I turn up my Music and begin to dance. Don't ask me fucking why. You know already, Clyde fucking Donovan spoke to me.
-
Don't ask me, I love Panda and Frankie a lot. Sorry if they sound the same or something. ANOTHER OC story already, I just can't stop typing once something gets in my head. And I know people would notice Panda but you know how South Park is, freaky shit like that can happen.
Mucho love peoples, send in OCs AGAIN! Or just say I can use characters you've submitted for Teenage Wasteland again. R & R 3
5kinnys (:
Lyrics © Ashlee Simpson