A/N: Wow! After all those reviews, I had to keep writing! And due to popular demand, this is a 'cepts-and-'cause-free story!

Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't Stan Lee. I know my mirror sometimes lies, like when I first wake up, but I've never been confronted with me looking like that.

Ch 1: "Children should be seen and not heard"

"JULIAAAAA!"

Gerald has a tendency to scream "Julia!" when he can't find me. I wonder how long it will take before he realizes that I could very well be sitting next to him. When he stuck his head out of the window, I was sitting on the windowledge. If there's anything I like less then Gerald, its Gerald screaming in my ear.

"My name is NOT Julia, Gerald" I reminded irritably, "and I'm sitting right here."

He jumped at that, like he was surprised he couldn't see me. It was funny the first hundred times. I've been Gerald's 'adopted daughter' since I first came to the city five years ago, and he's never really gotten used to my invisible-ness. Neither has he remembered that my name isn't Julia. I stopped using that name as soon as I could. Anything that reminds me of my life before this I've stopped using.

"Why can't you call me Ghost like everyone else? And you knew I was out here. I am every evening."

"Well, why can't you wear your bracelets like you're supposed to?" He grumbled. I think he doesn't like to seem so blind. When it puts me at an advantage over him, he hates it. "And when did your outfit go? Don't tell me we're gonna have to buy you another."

My outfit actually went invisible a long time ago, but it's a favorite of mine and I wear it when I can. The mutant gene that makes me invisible also dyes my clothes the same. Basically, there's this pigment in your skin called melanin or something. Mine went past albino, even, so I'm invisible. Yet the mutation created this melanin everywhere in my body, so all of me is invisible. That's how my food becomes invisible, because it's digested and all that crud. My clothes go invisible because i sweat and all. It's strange, but I live with it. Having my neighbors live with it is different. The first week I was here, every time I entered into a room, somebody would scream. I guess they weren't used to seeing disembodied clothes walking about. And then, when my clothes would start turning invisible themselves, only my bracelets would show. Floating bracelets caused quite a commotion, too.

"My bracelets are on" I responded, holding up two bracelet-ed wrists "And besides, what does it matter? I could very well walk around ass-naked and nobody'd care because they couldn't see me!"

God, I love doing that to him. First his face goes all red, like I've said something horribly offensive and then he goes all purple, like he's about to smack me. And its more hilarious because he's green to begin with. He looks like a bunch of little kids dumped paint on him!

"IN!" He fumed, "NOW!!"

Before I had even started scrambling through the window, he began lecturing me. This time the first topic seemed to be about 'letting-your-guardians- know-where-you-are-because-they-sacrifice-so-much-for-you'. He then demonstrated the depth of his sacrifices by announcing he was locking me in my room without dinner. He didn't mention about how I stole the dinner myself.

Then he started the tirade about 'being a lady'. Apparently, a 'lady' is decent, modest, doesn't shout, doesn't cuss, doesn't sit on windowledges, doesn't eat so much, doesn't sleep till noon, etc, etc, etc. I suppose they also giggle when guys even glance at them. Sometimes I wonder if Gerald is another time-traveler, and that he mysteriously got misplaced. Some simpering female is probably waiting for him in the Victorian era. At least I didn't get the lecture on how I'm supposed to look like a lady. They don't sell many petticoats and bustles around here.

"Julia! Are you listening to me!" Obviously not.

"Gerald, I'm not even answering to that name anymo. owwww!"

Have you ever gotten hit by a 600 pound (yea, but the floor would probably collapse under him if he was any more.) cross between a dinosaur and the hulk? Because that's what Gerald's mutation makes him look like. Unfortunately, the damn gene gave him all the muscles too. But only enough brain power to lock the door behind him like he threatened.

I figured if I lay there moaning for a couple of minutes, he'd go down to dinner and forget about me. The floors creak, so I could hear him lumbering away. After a while, I got up and applied myself to the doorknob. The bolts around here are laughingly easy, and only it took a couple of seconds before I was out of my prison. My stomach started growling, so I made my way to the kitchen.

Our apartment's about eight stories. Story 7 is completely floorless, story 6 has all the debris from story 7, and 5 and 4 are mostly falling apart. Plus, we stay off of the ground level, so if anyone happens by, they can't see us. That leaves 2, 3, and 8. 3 and 8 are rooms, and 2 is a combination kitchen, living room, storage, and everything else. So to get from level 8, where the hungry teenager is, to level 2, where the food is, you have six flights of stairs waiting you. Luckily, there's a banister!

I crept through the door into the kitchen area. Gerald, Celia, Jesse, Trish, Jonathon, and the rest were already sitting down at the table. We make a pretty motley group, all of us at a table like that. It almost looks like one of those "what's wrong with this picture" things, especially with Jonathan's horns and Gerald's dinosaur tail. But what caught my eye was what they were eating. I eyed the food enviously. It's not everyday that we get a full meal; chicken, rice, even some vegetables were proudly spread out on the table. Unfortunately, there wasn't any left on the counter, where I could easily get it. If I wanted to eat, it would have to be leftovers from yesterday: stale bread and cold soup. I picked it up when everyone was distracted by something on the small black and white TV. I think it was about the X-Men, but I slipped out of the room.

I sat down upstairs, in one of the more intact rooms on the fifth floor that no one uses. But before I could even make a sardonic comment to myself about the rotten food, I was grabbed from behind, pulled up by the shoulders, and held there, hanging several inches off the ground. There's only one person I know who does that.

a/n: How like me to end my first chapter on a cliffhanger!! Okay, so maybe not, but still, I tried! Anyway, any guesses on who it is? Could it be the ugly and blundering Gerald, likely still mad about the whole "unladylike" incident? Or could it be someone else? Muahahahahaha!

Yes, that little blue box *is* for therapy reasons. Click, write, send, and make me happy! Also useful for telling me what I'm doing wrong. Though I can't promise you that I'll agree. Any ideas for more mutations? I'm running out!