I own nothing!

I'm having a period of "hey this is a good idea let me write it down so I remember...and now it's not so great. Scrap!". So, while I'm pretty quick at it now, I can't promise to keep this pace up.

Kisara smiled, placing her newly cleaned medal on her shelf. Third place. That's what they had called Kisara, "Third Place Ace". She had been "White Rabbit", but once that third place streak set in, it was changed. Kisara was cleaning her room, dusting everything and took enough care in making her medals shine. She had a few tiny trophies, one she even hated. She'd gotten it during a competition, only to find out that every one got the same exact prize. She frowned at the "You're all winners!" stamped on the label. While the idea was sweet, in theory, it certainly had pissed off many of the runners. She was 18 at the time, and she certainly wasn't thrilled about it. The people who had worked their hardest, did their best, and strove to win were being forced into the same plane as those who couldn't care less. That's what Mr. Hales had said. Kisara remembered when he hobbled over from the benches with her brothers, having been there to cheer her on. He took one look at the trophies and sputtered in annoyance.

"What is this nonsense!? This is Cross-Country track! High-school! Not a daycare, you are all not winners! Someone give this girl the place and prize she rightfully deserves!" He whined, waving the small trophy around.

"It's ok Grandpa. This is fine..." She tried to soothe the angry old man.

"No it's not. You worked too hard. You put your all into it, you see that kid there? The fat one, out of shape? They walked the whole damn race! They didn't try, they honestly don't care. You care! This, this thing, it says that your effort and passion for this sport are worthless! That they're the same as they kid over there, the one who'd much rather be shopping for the latest shoes and mascara. This, is an insult!" He concluded.

Kisara held her little trophy, letting the words sink in. He was right, wasn't he? This sort of thing, was meant to build up self-esteem and confidence. To erase that feeling of hurt at being a loser. But it was a lie and unfair to those who worked their hardest to not be a loser. Kisara would love first place, but knew she had much work to do. Sometimes she'd fall from third place into fourth and that was her calling. That she had work to do to get to where she needed to be. Suddenly she hated that trophy.

"What is this crap!? I came in second, I know I did! I want what I worked for!" One runner wailed.

Cross-country track. It was hard-work and needed a lot of effort. This little trophy, saying everyone had won, pretty much turned its back on all of that.

"Oh Kisara!" A bubbly voice cheered.

"Gah! Maria!" Kevin cried, ducking behind Mr. Hales.

Kisara smirked, her now 12 year old brother had gotten himself a crush on her dear friend. Maria bounded up to Kisara, joyful as always. Her light orange romper was easy to spot in the crowd. Maria was much shorter than Kisara, her head just came to her collar bones. Her cheeks always had a nice rosy tint which seemed to make her large green eyes pop. Maria brushed a wayward lock of her unruly blonde hair from her face, examining Kisara's prize. Maria took it upon herself to become Kisara's first friend. The other kid's were shocked by the gauntly and pale woman whose face was obscured by long white long. Who could blame them? With sunken in eyes that carried dark bags, she probably looked like a ghoul. Maria on the other hand, loved that she lacked any color beyond her blue-eyes and decided she'd help "color her in". With time and make-up, Maria had fixed Kisara into a woman that wasn't as terrifying to see. Though Maria's loud and boisterous nature contrasted deeply with Kisara's shyness and taciturn nature, the two girls were friends ever since.

"Wow. Even the Third Place Ace has the same trophy as first place! That's great!" She beamed.

Mr. Hales scoffed, while Kisara just shifted her weight. That was true too, Kisara had been put on the same plane as someone in first place.

"Well then," Maria placed her hands on her hips, "let's make it so! Check out this magic trick!"

Kevin poked his head out from behind Mr. Hales, whom the three orphans now called Grandpa, to watch. Maria was always trying out some magic trick, usually failing. She took Kisara's trophy, made a few dramatic gestures over it and slapped her hand down over the label. She returned the trophy but it now held a "You're #1!" sticker over the words.

"Yes, yes. Much better now. I like that much better Kisara!" Mr. Hales smiled.

"It's a great way to head into our new lives huh? Last race before graduation, you deserve it." Maria winked.

Kisara smiled, a warm little fuzzy feeling was growing in her chest. She held her trophy, her thumb caressing the sticker.

Ah the sticker! Kisara snapped out of her daydream and carefully placed the sticker back onto her trophy. She missed high-school. She missed seeing the same people everyday, waiting to wear her red and white track uniform, and catching up on those 4 years of school she had missed. She was 21 now and a nursing school drop-out. There'd been something about nursing Kisara just couldn't handle. Maybe it was the fact that these people were sick, maybe it was the blood, for some reason Kisara learned nursing was not for her. Mr. Hales understood and encouraged Kisara to find something to enjoy. Kisara smiled as she placed a photo of the track team back into its place, she stood out like a sore thumb being the tallest. The other girls often joked she was in the wrong sport, that basketball would be better.

"But now...what do I do?" Kisara sighed.

She felt like a burden. Mr. Hales, Richard was his first name, had been taking care of them for so long. Somehow he managed to become the guardian of the kids and was able to do everything they needed. Kisara had gotten a job as a cashier in a grocery store, and Mr. Hales taught her the value of a dollar. She still had all of those pay-stubs sitting neatly in their chronological order but that was almost 2 years ago. It was Kenny, sweet 6 year old Kenny, that first called Mr. Hales "Grandpa". Somehow Kisara and Kevin followed and before they all knew it, he was indeed their Grandpa. They had internalized it and loved him, whether he liked it or not that's what he was to them. He never seemed to mind though, he even seemed a bit hurt when one would slip back into calling him Mr. Hales from habit. Kisara's little grey flip-phone buzzed and played it's soothing melody. She picked up the bulky yet small device and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Maria here. I got denied...again."

"Oh. Well, where else is there for you to try?"

Maria was also unemployed and out of school. She'd traveled to Las Vegas in hopes of being a magician's assistant. She herself wanted to be a magician, but needed much more training and skill. Yet every one denied her, and those that gave her a chance, were often booed out of the room. She was a waitress for awhile, but the bar caught fire. She had been there for some months now and nothing was showing any promise.

"I could try to become a show-girl. Get those "I'm so pretty lookit me" moves and grace under my belt. If I learn to be a pretty thing on the stage, then maybe a magician will accept me to be that pretty helper?" Maria sighed.

"If that's what you need to do...could you get a permit or something to practice side-walk magic? If you can gather a crowd to watch you, maybe you could attract the interest of a magician?"

"I could. I'd have to find a place though where I could get enough people and not be mugged in the next 2 hours. How's everything over there?"

"The same. Still laying around, applying at random, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life."

"Still? Well, do you have anything in mind?"

Kisara flopped onto her bed, kicking her feet in the air as she thought. Come to think of it, not really. She honestly couldn't really see herself in any profession, not even a cashier anymore. She swatted some hair out of her face as she wiggled around, uncomfortable.

"Not really, no. I could just be a secretary. I think I could do that."

"What!? Is this why you were Third Place Ace? Come on Kisara. Shoot higher, raise that bar!" Maria groaned.

"B-but! I don't know what else I can do." Kisara whimpered.

"Well here. I think you could be a day-care provider, personal assistant for major CEO's, own a pet shop or maybe become a chef? You can make a mean egg salad."

Kisara frowned. Egg salad was all she knew how to make. She could make something that you could call a wafle, but not really have the desire to eat. Though, she watched cooking shows a lot. She always enjoyed pastries and how pretty they could be. It looked like so much fun and so rewarding.

"A chef sounds fun. I could specialize in pastries?"

"A pastry chef! Yea, I could see you as that! There's a great culinary school too that I know of."

"Hm?"

"Yea, it's in Domino City."

"Hm? Is that far?" Kisara pondered.

"I have no idea. I'm super far away right now so...well I have to go. Bye-bye!"

Kisara hung-up after she heard the click and rolled over onto the stomach, her hair falling around her surrounding her vision in white. She closed her eyes, pondering about what to do with her life.

"Class today we have a new student. Her name is Kisara Hales."

Kisara stood in front of the room awkwardly, her head hanging just enough for her hair to fall in front of it. The class stared, shocked. There she stood, tall and thin, and extremely pale. Her white hair seemed to make her glow, but it totally obscured her face.

"Can you say hello Ms. Hales?" The teacher urged gently.

Kisara gulped and raised her head slightly to look at her new class-mates. Her dark blue eyes stood out against the white, and so did her bags. The area around her eyes were dark, sunken in and big. She already had the look of fear, and the look of death. The class sat up straight, worried that this girl secretly practiced black magic or was an escaped reject from a zombie project. Kisara's "hello" was a pathetic whisper, full of shyness and fear. She walked swiftly to the back of the room, hiding her face once more. She sat down and played with the light green blazer. She looked down at herself. Her white buttoned shirt was peeking out from the opening in the light green blazer, the black tie was neatly tucked in. Her knee-length skirt matched the blazer and rested lightly on her black stockings that covered her legs, her brown loafers seemed too big for her feet. That was the girl's uniform of the private school Mr. Hales had sent her too. She was in remedial class and scared out of her mind. She was 16 with the education of a 12 year old, would these kids make fun of her beyond what she could handle? She peeked out of her hair, the class seemed to all turn their heads. Were they staring at her? Awkwardly, she took out her 5 subject note-book, ready to learn. She found her writing to be shaky and sloppy, crooked and wiggled on every line. The girl at the desk next to her let her borrow her eraser, eventually she told Kisara to just keep it. When lunch-time came, Kisara remained in her seat. Grandpa had packed Kisara her lunch, putting in the girls' favorite foods and snacks. Kisara nibbled away at her peanut butter crackers, her stomach upset with the bundle of nerves that she was. She nearly threw up in terror when the door slammed wide open and a blonde came bursting in. Her tie wasn't tucked in, her skirt was shorter than it should have been and she had loose white socks bunching on her shins. Blond hair poked out from almost every angle. She locked eyes with Kisara, smiled, and walked over.

"Whatcha eatin there?" She chirped.

"Uhm...uh...peanut-butter crackers." Kisara replied dryly, her heart racing.

"Hmm." The blonde hummed.

She shot her hand out and slapped the hair away from Kisara's face, her fingers gently brushing Kisara's nose. Surprised, Kisara just stared wide-eyed at the girl. She smiled as she stared at Kisara's face, cocking her head every now and again. She stood up, still holding Kisara's hair and began to braid the strands, humming happily.

"What are you doing!?" Kisara almost whispered, still shocked.

"Braiding your hair. It's so long and all over your face. You've got a pretty face you know, don't hide it!"

Kisara sat rigid, awkwardly reaching into her little brown bag for the juice-box Grandpa had packed. That blonde girl was...pushy. She finished her braiding and wrapped the long braid around Kisara's head, making one loop before clipping the end of the braid in the back of Kisara's head. She pulled out a few more pins, securing the braid she'd wrapped around Kisara's head to look like a head-band. She hopped across the room, rummaging in a bag, and yanked out a mirror. She brought the mirror back and held it in front of Kisara. Kisara blushed slightly. Her hair looked nice but her face, that skeletal face, was exposed. She noticed a rather large white head near her right temple that had been hiding perfectly behind her hair. She itched to get it, but Maria flicked her finger that was reaching for it.

"Don't do that, it'll scar your face. Here, I've got some make-up. I'm aiming to be a make-up guru. I've got nearly every shade for any skin type. You're sort of oily...so I won't do too much. Maybe some concealer for these eyes and a bit of foundation to smooth this over. Gotta make it look all natural, make-up's against school code. I'm Maria by the way. Maria Tyce."

Kisara sipped her juice-box gently, watching as Maria brought out little tubes and jars of some white and translucent material. She closed her left eye as Maria began dabbing at it. Something cold and slightly sticky began to coat the bottom of it. She sat still, juice-box in hand as her transformation began.

"I'm actually wearing a bit of make-up right now. You just have to know how to wear it. Aw. I wish I could put mascara on those lashes and some eyeliner. You've got a great eye shape and some long lashes, if I could just draw attention to them and make them pop. But that would be way too obvious, especially since most people with light hair have light lashes...ok I'll take the bullet if you get in trouble but I'm giving your lips some color along with those cheeks."

Eventually she finished and rushed to return her make-up into hiding. Kisara gently picked up the mirror and was shocked to see a nice rosy tint to her cheeks, just a nice shade of light pink. Same with her lips, and she took noticed that they had a nice plump shape. Her eyes no longer looked sunken and dark and her blue eyes stood out. She smiled to Maria, happy to no longer look so frightening.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Kisara right?"

"Yes, but...why'd you do it?"

"Hm? What? You looked terrified so I just wanted to give you a bit of confidence. When a girl feels pretty, she is pretty and she lets that pretty shine. Also, less people notice you when you aren't trying to be invisible so you'll blend in and save yourself the stress of being stared at."

"That's amazing though...it's like magic." Kisara breathed, looking in the mirror again.

"Magic huh? Yea...magic." Maria smiled, quickly gathering her supplies to hide once more as the door opened.

Kisara noticed some people looking at her, confused as to where the ghost looking girl went. She still felt nervous and felt her heart speed up, but eventually Maria's words held true. Kisara settled into high-school and the kids settled around her, she blended in perfectly.

Kisara opened her eyes again, looking at her wall of medals and her trophy. She'd been doing that lately, daydreaming about the good old days. She noticed Grandpa shuffling around in the front yard through her window. She sat up on her bed, wiggling in her blue jeans that had twisted on her right leg. She adjusted her fuzzy pink hoodie and rolled over onto her back, fiddling with a strand of hair. I could go to that school. But what about Kevin and Kenny? Kisara didn't feel it was right in leaving her 15 year old and 11 year old brothers with Grandpa. Yet, she knew it was better for them to stay. This was something to definitely discuss with Grandpa. What would life be like in Domino, if she was able and comfortable in leaving? She sighed again, why was deciding what to do with your life so hard?

"I lay here in bed so often, but hardly every use it." She sighed.

She'd been to therapy, counseling and even had a psycho analysis professional. Over active imagination, Schizophrenia, hormones, depression, a tumor was forming. All of them came up with some reason as for why Kisara was afraid to sleep, ignoring that she'd said repeatedly it was that her dream of her parent's death had come true. Mr. Hales pleaded with Kisara to over-come her fears, to think of how everyone she knows had a good enough life and if death were to come then they'd be content.

"You're not the one killing Kisara. You're just the unwilling viewer to a tragic show." He'd said.

Besides the occasional collapse into sleep, Kisara did her best to still remain awake. It was bad for her health, and it was showing. She wondered why she'd had more life and energy as a youth but once high-school was over, the years of not sleeping right came to bite her and hard. She'd been ignoring the head-ache she'd had for the past hour or so. She groaned now, deciding that maybe she should go to Domino. She saw Grandpa's shadow against her window, rising to go meet him.