Yeah, yeah. Let's get on with the story.

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3

A Wish To Be Invisible

"Okay, now I'm confused," Tucker stated.

"That makes two of us," Danny agreed.

Sam stared at the spot where the strange teen vanished. "What do you think he was doing?"

"I don't know, but let's leave it," the halfa declared. "It's none of our business."

Still, to Sam, something about all of this didn't seem right.

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C.W. ran fast and hard as soon as he was out of seeing and hearing range. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him. Now if only he could remember where the exit was.

He pulled short when he saw Dash pounding down the hall. Oh, great. He must have run in a circle! Thinking quick, he slid into the nearest class, wishing that now more than ever that he could turn invisible.

"Excuse me, I think you have the wrong class," a woman said from behind him. He turned to see both her and about twenty-five students staring at him.

Okay, now he wished more than ever that he could turn invisible.

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," he managed to say, thankful that he didn't stutter. Slowly, he crept back out the door. C.W. shut it behind him carefully and rested against it for a moment. That was something he never wanted to repeat again. He could still see all of their eyes, big and wide open, just staring. Something about that triggered an emotion within him. It might have been irritation.

Heaving a breath, he stood and made to go around the corner. However, he was forced to stop when another wave of dizziness overtook him. Just like before, images fleeted across his vision. It was brief. There was only a flash of orange and some shaking. Huh, what did that-?

Crash!

Guess he found out soon enough. He also updated his list of times he wished he were invisible. There was a new number one.

"My apologies," he muttered and darted away. Great, this was literally the second time he'd collided with that girl. The one with the orange hair from last night. He didn't even know who the heck she was. Of course, he didn't know a lot of things and that fact only increasingly annoyed him, but it was worse because he felt like he should. Something in his mind was telling him that he'd known all of this before. He should recognize people like "Danny" and "Sam" and "Tucker" and girl-who-crashed-into-him-with-her-car-and-broke-his-watch. Yet, they obviously didn't know him, so that didn't make any sense either.

Maybe this came with the vision territory. Was he some kind of psychic? The concept was as incomprehensible as the rest of his so-far 22-hour life.

C.W. was barely outside when he remembered his gnawing hunger. Humans needed to eat, a fact he'd neglected so far. He emptied his pockets for anything that could be of use---like money for instance---but only came across the weird pendant again.

What did most people do when they didn't have any way to get food? Steal? But that wasn't right, he tried telling himself. Although, the idea still held its allure. What could it hurt to steal one apple from that stand over there? Surely, nothing.

A mental plan formed in C.W.'s head. Several plans, actually. He had a desperate urge to be prepared for everything. Putting Plan A it into action, he casually walked by the vendor. When the man's eyes didn't leave him, he went to an adapted version of the plan. He tripped, making sure both that he landed softly on the ground and that his foot knocked into the stand's leg, shaking a heap of the fruits down.

"Ah! I'm so sorry!" C.W. lied believably. He rose and bent down to help collect the apples, putting most of them into the wooden tub, but snatching two when the vendor's back was turned. He made to "scratch" at his neck, cautiously placing the apples in his raised hood.

"Sorry, sir, I'll be more careful next time," he promised once the rest of the apples were in the box.

The man just muttered something unintelligible in return. C.W. took that as his cue to take off. The minute he was out of the guy's sight, he pulled out the apples and snacked. They were bruised and only as clean as he could make them by rubbing them against his shirt, but they were delicious to a starving stomach.

After he finished, he wondered where to go next. This was soon decided for him.

"Hey, kid! I thought I told you to get to school!"

Just his luck.

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Jazz's head spun as she walked into her classroom. But what can you expect when you crash into someone?

Oh, no! It was the second person she'd crashed into in less than 24 hours! She was losing her touch!

The thoughts troubled her. She wanted badly to go track the person down and apologize. She had to fix her mistakes. The only thing stopping her was history class. Too bad that history class was a good enough thing to stop her.

Boom!

And now it wasn't.

The whole class emptied out of the room as an explosion shook the ground. A hole had been blasted through the wall. Lying on the floor in front of it was a white-haired teenage boy.

A white-haired teenage ghost boy.

Specifically; her brother.

Jazz rushed over to help him up. "Danny, are you okay?"

"Fine…um….citizen," he replied, ending in his heroic tone. Confused, Jazz turned to see her teacher approaching them. "Just get out of here," Danny whispered.

Jazz complied and followed her teacher out the door. She was about two seconds away from a lecture about safety when she slipped into the crowd. Everyone was headed toward the school's exit to assemble at the emergency meeting spot. Jazz followed them to the door, but diverged as she stepped foot outside.

Her brother didn't know that she usually hid around corners during his ghost fights and she wasn't planning on telling him, either. She just wanted to know that he was safe. Not to mention that if he got severely hurt, she could use the lipstick/blaster that she always carried around in her pocket to cause a diversion and get him out.

Ah, the joys of being an overprotective sister.

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C.W. felt something that he identified as nervous as he was dragged into the police cruiser. The back seat was not a very fun place to be. Heck, there was a pane of bullet-proof glass to separate him from the driver. And it was glowing green. Sure, he was not very knowledgeable about the world, but he knew that that was not normal.

"Why is the glass glowing?" he asked tentatively, his need for information overcoming him.

"To keep out ghosts," the man grunted.

"Ghosts?"

"Kid, this is Amity Park. Ain't you ever heard of ghosts?"

The word did sound familiar. Very familiar, in fact. A flash of a green, swirling landscape appeared in his mind.

"Of course I have," he said self-assuredly. "I was just wondering why you needed such a thing in a police car."

The officer gave him a weird look. C.W. tried to look innocent.

"It's just a precaution."

While that didn't completely satisfy C.W., it was enough for him to drop the subject. Almost out of habit, he began to tinker with the watches on his wrist. He found that they were all set to the same exact time. What was the point of that? Still, he let them be and pulled at the metal clasp of the broken one. The hands on it were totally still, which could be expected from a broken clock. He fiddled with them so that the time on it matched the time on all of the others. Staring at it for a second, he decided he did not like this new arrangement and set it back. Those hands would forever stand at the time of the collision if he had any say about it. At least it was something to break the monotony of all the other ticking devices. And, hey, even a broken clock was right twice a day.

It was at this point he wondered why he cared so much. Maybe some form of head trauma caused the amnesia. That would explain his strange behavior. Although, judging from the way he was dressed, he assumed he was probably a strange person before as well.

"Alright kid, get out," the officer said, coming to a stop in front of the large brick building.

Obediently, the teen hopped out of the vehicle as fast as possible and entered onto the semi-crowded school grounds.

And everyone was staring at him.

Again.

He hated his life.

His totally visible life.

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(Laughs). Nothing says "I know something you don't know" like a good, seemingly random fit of laughter.

If you don't get the last line, scroll back up and reread the beginning.