Chapter 6.
The following day at school, I rose from my seat at the lunch bell, said my usual "See you later", to my seat mate, Molly, and bounced happily to my locker. Lunch was my favorite part of school. It was the one time where I got to have actual conversations with my werewolf friends.
It was true, I was in many a class with Jacob, but we usually didn't get into a real convo during class, as I got quite engrossed when talking with him, and failing wasn't far from the top of my taboo list.
At my locker, I spun out the combination, slipped my bag off my shoulder, and began cramming books and papers from the first half of the day into the non-existent space, while simultaneously snatching what I needed for the second half.
A voice behind me made me jump.
"Hey Charlotte."
I shoved the last book into my locker, and slammed it shut. Turning, I caught a glimpse of familiar, glossy black hair, and then the chiseled, flawless face of Jacob Black. A smile was splayed out upon his broad lips.
I smiled back. He had never called me by my nickname before. His perfectly cordial greeting made it easy to tell him apart from other acquaintances.
"Hiya Jake. What brings you to this part of town?" I grinned, as his locker was three halls down from mine.
"Oh, nothing much," he chuckled, "Just asking you if you wanted to come over Saturday."
I felt my cheeks grow hot. Why was he inviting me over? This was new...
Charlotte, I reasoned with myself. He's probably just having a party, and wants to know if you can come. Lots of people will be there without a doubt, and you're making a fool of yourself thinking otherwise. Why else would he ask you anyways?
"Why?" I questioned, though the answer already seemed quite apparent to my mind.
"Well there's this thing tonight. It's like where the eldest of the Quileute tell a bunch of ghost stories round the bonfire. Really hokey, but it'd be really great if you could make it." He flashed me a crooked smile, and I ceased to remember what we had been talking about.
His gleaming white teeth looked fantastic against the metallic rust of his glowing skin.
No. I was not thinking about Jake that way. He was just a friend, I reminded myself.
"O-oh." I stuttered. "Well sure-- I'd love to...When do you want me over?"
"How does seven sound?" He turned and began walking down the hallway to the cafeteria.
I quickly slung my battered, plaid book bag back over my shoulder, and scurried to his side. His long legs carried him far over a short amount of time, and I struggled to keep up with him. He looked down at me, smiling warmly as I half walked, half ran, beside him.
"Are your legs not long enough to keep up? Or is it that you just aren't fast enough?" He teased, but shortened his strides to match mine.
"No–" I huffed. "I'm just– tired today or something!"
"Sure, sure." He permitted condescendingly as I got my breathing under control.
I was confused "Wait...This thing you were talking about. It's an evening thing right?"
His expression turned shy. "What? You don't wanna hang out?"
"Oh." Everything finally clicked into place. "No, I mean of course I do."
Relief colored the husky tone of his voice as we walked up to the cafeteria entrance together. " Okay, because I do too."
He pushed open the cafeteria doors, and stood to the side so as I could go ahead in front of him. Like those old movies. Like Eliza being pampered for the first time by some race-horse guy in My Fair Lady. Except I bet her race-horse guy wasn't a werewolf.
I take about one step into the lunchroom, and suddenly a hand latches onto my wrist, and yanks me over to the left a few dozen feet. It's Christopher, and he's grinning from ear to ear.
"Heya Char! Why don't you sit with me today?" He enthused, overly ecstatic.
I look at Jake, and he's got this half angry, half surprised expression on his face. Turning back to Chris, I can see he isn't going to take no for an answer. So I shoot an apologetic glance at Jacob, and let the 'enthusiast' drag me over to his table, bustling with other kids. Kids I've never even seen.
They're all yelling, and laughing, and shoving against eachother. The crowd seems to think that this is the rodeo or something, and someone had just told them that they're out of bulls, so they have to stand in for the beasts.
So different from the familiar bunch of tan-skinned friends, sharing a funny joke or two, and then discussing something interesting, like a six year old girl from Japan who can speak 32 different languages.
All I hear here is a pointless jumble of sentences involving stuff like which boys are 'cute', and Katie's new earrings. Stuff I couldn't care less about.
Nevertheless, I don't want to be rude, so I take a seat next to Chris and begin to pick at my tater-tots. The entire hour Chris didn't spare me a single glance. He's too caught up in David's wildly unimaginative story about how he supposedly went to a party last night, and some girl was all over him. After that, I pretty much tuned out, and entertained myself by imagining what Jake would've said if he were here.
I bet he would have told David that yesterday a UFO landed in his yard, and maybe the aliens and this girl of his could be friends.
Finally, the torture is over, and I'm free to split. It's funny how the shrill blast of the bell can either mean freedom, or confinement to education. In my case, it meant both.
In class, Jacob refused to speak to me, and our conversation was deduced to a whole lot of good starts on my behalf, and a whole lot of scowling on his. Every time I ask him a simple question, my only answer is an agitated sounding grunt.
His eyes seemed a darker coal black than usual. They were almost inky with night His skin stretched taut over his cheekbones, eyebrows pulled together, less than an inch of space between them.
I didn't get what was wrong with him. It was decided. I would confront him. I would go up to him directly after class and demand to know what his problem was. The entire rest of the school-day, I planned out what I would say, but deep down inside, I knew I was too chicken to really ask.
After school, I walked home alone, staring up at the steel gray sky, watching damp leaves of scarlet, orange, and burnt toast color, flutter down from their branches, claiming a place of their own atop the soggy concrete.
When I reached my door, I dug around in my pockets awhile before retrieving the cold, metal house-key. Jangling it in the door for a minute, I heard the stark, nondescript click of the lock, before turning the icy doorhandle, and stepping through the wooden doorway. Nothing but homework to do...
I laughed a bit to myself. I wasn't going to do homework the moment I stepped through the door. I knew myself too well for that.
Slipping out of my sneakers, I decided to head upstairs where there was more scope for imagination. Or at least books to read. So I padded up the stairs to my room, flopped onto my bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Three hours later I woke up. Somewhere in the middle of my ceiling show, I'd evidently fallen asleep. Wow. I'd actually bored myself to sleep.
Downstairs, I heard the clanging of pots and pans. I could also make out Dad's booming laugh. Probably watching t.v, while Mom busied herself, cooking dinner. I'd been out for a while.
Knowing I couldn't just lie there forever, I heaved to my feet groggily, and got into the shower, aiming to wake myself up. The water did it's work, and I soon felt refreshed, and much more awake than I had five minutes ago.
It's after the shower. That's when it happens.
It's when step out onto the bath mat and wipe the fog off the mirror to brush my hair. It's what I see in the mirror. It's what I don't see.
I look a second time, and then rub the mirror again.
I'm not there.
That's what I'm saying.
I'm. Not. There.
I feel kind of dizzy, so I make my way back to bed because if I'm dreaming, bed is the place right? And I don't because I already am.
I feel my heart pounding in my chest. My breath comes fast and my mouth is dry. I lift my head off the pillow and see my shape on the bed. It's right there, under the covers. Then I pull off the electric blanket and the sheet.
Nothing.
So I go back to the bathroom, to the big mirror. And I'm still not there. The mirror is the mirror, and it is on the wall, and I am not there in front of it. I think I am– I mean, I see the mirror, I see my towel wave through the air, I see the shower curtain jump when I punch at it. But I don't see me.
My mom's voice rang out from downstairs, making me jump about a foot in the air.
"Charlotte! Dinner's ready!" She calls.
So then I think to myself. What am I supposed to do? What am I gonna do. Just say "Yeah mom, I'll be right down," and haul my invisible butt down there? I couldn't do that. My parents would have me shipped off to a zoo, or a science lab, or a pediatrician in double time.
I was right. I couldn't tell a soul about this. Not my parents. Not the doctor, not Chloe or Jacob, not anyone. I couldn't imagine what would happen if the news of this...if this ever got out into the public. I'd have every reporter and every camera in the world on my doorstep in half an hour...And the government. I knew the government. They would be here in ten minutes after the story broke– to take me somewhere 'safe'. You think the CIA, and the Joint Chief's would be interested in this? I tell you, without a doubt, the would. So I could tell no one.
So I'm thinking, Great. And even if I could tell someone, it's not like I could call one of those Invisible Teenager Specialists. I'll get the Yellow Pages now.
Mom's voice, a bit more impatient, sounded off again.
"Charlotte!! Dinner!!"
So I muster up all the voice I've got, and yell back to her.
"Thank's mom, but I feel sort of sick– The meat in the cafeteria was bad today, so don't worry about it."
There. That was a sufficient enough lie. Now I had just one more thing to deal with. Myself.