Chapter 1 - - - "Invisible"

Based on my own sordid experiences with people, I'm reminded of that saying, "human: the only species which hunts itself." …Or so I'd always thought, until I met a much older, crueler, and far less understanding species than my world had ever known. I never dreamed there would be creatures out there that would make humans appear…well, more human. And, by human, I mean humane…moral, conscionable, reasonable, and compassionate.

Sorry to tell you, but we are not alone…(*sigh,* trust me, when I say, truer words have never been spoken). And before you begin to contemplate the vast reaches of outer space, you may want to take a long hard look at your own back yard. …Ever wonder what it was your dog actually saw outside your window on that cold dark night? …Well, I got five bucks here that says you'd never in a million years guess what it was good ole' Fido actually saw. And, odds are, you wouldn't want to know either…

Let me be the first to tell you, I'm a lousy storyteller. I couldn't tell a decent lie to save my life. In fact, I've often compounded my problems simply by making the attempt. And the fact that I almost lost my life tonight, all in the name of undeniable truth, is a total frickin' fluke, I swear.

…I guess I should start at the beginning, what can I say, it's the most obvious place to start, and chances are…you're not going to believe me anyway…

My name is Sarah, but please, call me "Star." My Mother told me that when I was two years old and just learning to speak, I would pronounce my name "Star-a" when I attempted to say "Sarah". Somehow, "Star" always kinda stuck with me. I wish everyone would call me Star…but teachers and parents alike continue to call me "Sarah," so I've all but grown to hate it.

I'm 15, a sophomore in high school, and as awkward as they come. I'm average height, weight, and have plain brown hair that I can't do a thing with…besides hide it under my beat up baseball cap. I've never really felt comfortable in my own skin. I'm average in every way and pretty much what one would call "forgettable." …And socially, I'm completely off the grid….I mean, in terms of popularity, I'm so invisible I'm practically transparent.

…I often find myself questioning whether or not I actually even exist, or if I'm just some random part of a piece of wallpaper, part of the background. Did you ever see a high school play? Remember the really cute teens that got to sing, dance, and got all the really good parts? …I wasn't one of them. I was back with the fat, plain, and otherwise, frumpy girls who sang only in the really big numbers. I was usually the girl in the second to the last row of the chorus, actually. You know, the ones listed on the second to last page of the playbook? In fact, if you tried to look for me in the last yearbook of our school, you'd be lucky to find my random sleeve in a picture or two from our entire class album. …Like I said, invisible.

…And I suppose, like most unpopular teens, I simply would have remained in the fringes…if not for them.

….

It started out like any other school day.

"Will you get your ass out of bed! This is the third time I've yelled up the stairs! If you miss the bus again, you'll have to ride your bike because I'm not driving you to school again! Last warning!,"

(Yep, I got yelled at by my Mother for oversleeping…again.) …I finally opened my crusted eyes to the bright yellow room covered in cheesy plastered rainbows. (What the hell was I thinking? There really ought to be a law that you aren't allowed to decorate your room before age 10...)

And so, I sat upright in my warm bed, which beckoned me still, and thought, "Another horrid Monday on the horizon, rise and shine sweet cheeks! Time to get dressed up in second rate clothes that won't impress, eat brand-nameless cereal on a stomach whose nerves can't handle it anyway, and try and to avoid making eye contact with anyone you meet today who could potentially further degrade your trivial sense of self-worth…in other words, anyone."

My only saving thought of the day, the only one I'd had for as long as I can remember is "This will not last, there IS life after high school. You will eventually leave this place and you'll never look back"… happy thoughts, such happy thoughts.

I sat at the kitchen table and looked up intermittently at the large white "country goose" clock. One of the short sickly blue duck wings was disturbingly close to the 7, this meant the bus would be here in just a few short minutes. I stared down, numbly, looking at my bowl of "toasted-Ohs" and half-heartedly chased the remaining survivors around with my spoon. My Mother was finishing up her coffee as she poured over the contents of her newspaper. I guess she caught my less than enthusiastic expression, because the next thing I know, I'm getting the same old song and dance.

"I don't know why it has to be so difficult with you every single school day, Sarah. Mornings shouldn't be like this. And as far as your grades? Well, I don't understand why you don't just use some of that 'potential' that all of your teachers keep telling me you have."

(Ok, quick side note: Potential, is the word that teachers, the world over, came up with long ago that would mollify most parents while simultaneously labeling their child in his or her permanent records forever as second-rate & lazy. Take my word for it, the "P" word is the go-to word utilized by apathetic teachers who lack a thesaurus or the know-how to use one. ...No, I'm not bitter or anything, what gave you that idea?)

"Yeah, ok, I'll get right on that. …You know it's been, like four years, since any of them actually told you that. You don't even know any of my teachers anymore. It's high school, thing's are different in high school…(not that you listen to me when I explain any of this stuff anyway..)," I mumbled back.

"What was that? What did you just say? One of these days that mouth of yours, is going to get you into some real trouble, Sarah… I know you think you're miserable now, kiddo, but being an adult is no picnic! You've got the world by the ass right now and you don't even know it! I think I just heard the bus next door. …You should just go out and try to make the best of your teen years, alright?"

As she turned back to page six and her latte, I roll my eyes and grabbed my inordinately over-weight back-pack (stuffed with homework that, in my defense, I had honestly intended to do but lost track of time), and ran to the end of our driveway.

…What is it about the fall that makes you feel cold and naked even though you're covered in several layers from head to toe? (It's like that cold snap that hits you when you first get out of the shower, I swear.) My teeth chatter involuntarily as I watch the bus come to a stop…about seven feet AFTER the damn driveway. So, there I am, negotiating our muddy ditch to get in the blasted yellow monstrosity…ugh, newly-trained-stupid-bus drivers suck! I toss him my worst I-hope-you-die-and-your-afterlife-involves-driving-people-just-like-me-around-in-a-frickin-bus-for-eternity look. He ignores my contempt, hiding behind his state-trooper wannabe sunglasses and then accelerates the bus before I've managed to find a seat. Thanks asshole. …*sigh*, What a perfect start I'm having…again. …Must be a day that ends in "Y."

At least the ride is uneventful. Everyone just stares and drools out of their windows…oh, the joy of riding the bus to school. At least I'm one of the older kids on the bus, everyone just leaves me alone. West Beacon is a poor town. Everyone is dressed as shabbily as me and in just as foul of a mood. We're all in the same boat…it reminds me of that funny expression, "We're all passengers on the Hindenburg, no sense fighting for a window seat,"…so true, so true.

We get to school about 25 minutes later…everyone disembarks like we are on a death march. Only today, in my case, I am. I race towards my locker. Once you get to tenth grade, you actually get one that's away from the main homerooms. That's a good thing as it means there's less chance that you're books will get kicked down the hallway as you're quickly unloading them from your bag into your locker. Not that it still doesn't happen, mind you, just a little less often now that my locker's away from the masses…

I make it to homeroom just in time to hear my name from Mrs. Critermon, AKA: half of the school's two librarians.

"Sarah Bakerman?"

"Here."

"Actually dear, you missed attendance. You really need to start getting here earlier for roll call, especially when you consider that your last name begins with a 'B.'"

"Yeah…noted," I said sarcastically.

"You're wanted in the office…and be sure to get a hall pass for your next class or you'll earn a detention."

That earned me four snarky comments, two dirty looks, one eye-roll, and a room full of "Uh-oh's" and "Busted's" from my fellow classmates, which could be heard from three doors down. Did I mention how perfect today was going?

At least the walk to the office was pleasant enough…or at least, it would have been had I not been consumed with what was going to happen to me once I got in the Office. It, much like the rest of the town, prided itself on its superficial veneer and keeping up appearances. The Office was where the majority of the school's maintenance budget was spent. It was evident by all of the real plant-life, landscaping, and the newly-requisitioned arboretum across the hall…and lastly, any note-worthy student art projects produced within the past 8 years had mysteriously made their way here. (Not that I blame anyone for moving them, really…I mean, the "Fighting Bulls" logo in the gymnasium had certainly seen better days, it currently looked as though the JV basketball team had collectively jacked-off on it…but, I digress…)

As I walked into the Office, I remember feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up. (For the record, I've only had this feeling once before. It was years ago when I went to the NYC central park zoo and turned around uneasily to find a lion staring me down. The look it gave me was a mixture of scary and creepy. It was calculating with a degree of intelligence behind it that shouldn't have been there…and the look spoke volumes. If it could speak, I swear it would have said, "I'm feeling a bit peckish and I want you so much more than the other meat puppets around here.") Coincidentally, the well-groomed future head cheerleader sitting in the chair across from the receptionist's desk was eyeing me intensely, with that exact same look.

"Finally, I've been waiting for you forever," she said with exasperation as she continued to scrutinize me.

I looked behind me to see who the hell she was talking to, there was no one. I looked back at her and pointed to myself.

"Were you talking to me?," I asked her, clearly confused. It wasn't often a pretty, and obviously popular girl, spoke with me. I was completely thrown.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I mean, I don't see any other stupid half-breeds around here stinking up this building, do you?," she said with a sneer.

In my defense, I wasn't prepared for a conversation like this. Her voice was loud and clear…and in the presence of all the powers that be at this school…and none of the adults within the vicinity acted as though they'd heard her.

I looked around the room as my face turned eight shades of red. The receptionist was continuing to chat with the head lunch lady about the weather. I peered around the bend and saw the Principal and the Superintendent talking animatedly about their latest accolades regarding their ongoing rivalry on the golf course…but nobody noticed the Platinum blond transfer student that just insulted the resident "geek" tenth-grader. Was I invisible today?

"No, you're not invisible. But I am.," she casually chided back to me.

"W-who the hell are you?," I stuttered as my barely-awake brain tried futilely to process whether or not any of this was real.

"'Hell' is such a turn of the century concept…you don't honestly believe in it do you, Sorrow?"

"Who are you? Am I awake?," I asked her as panic began to set in…surely, someone should've noticed this odd conversation by now.

"I am no one you need to be concerned with, Sorrow. And yes, you are very much awake and alive, though for how much longer…I wouldn't presume to say." she laughed as her ears elongated and her skin turned as pale as snow. She then proceeded to pull a letter opener out from her right sleeve and lunge at me with it.

I fell back away from her and crashed onto the floor. She towered above me as she moved the polished silver opener from one hand to the other, before gripping it tightly in one of her fists, and driving the point directly into my stomach. I screamed and writhed on the floor, clutching myself tightly where the wound would have been…

…And, of course, that's the moment that everyone in the room finally noticed that I was there.

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