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"And why do I need to fold the napkins?" I asked dad the next day as I set the table before the Smiths arrived.

"Because your mother told you to," he replied as he set down a plate of meat on the table. He looked at his watch and sighed, not wanting to answer my question any more. "They should arrive soon," referring to the Smiths, the new neighbors that we invited unexpectedly for dinner.

Ever since meeting Peter yesterday, I could barely get him out of my head. I had mixed feelings about seeing him so soon. No one ever looked at me the way he did. I wondered if that look would die quicker if he spent more time with me. I wondered why me out of all people; he was interested in. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that he was just interested in me because I was the first person he met in this town. I had it hard to believe that I was so special in his eyes.

I frowned at dad in disapproval as he refolded my napkin since mine wasn't good enough. If he didn't think I was doing a good job, he could have just told me. He still didn't answer my question about why I was folding napkins. I was about to protest when I felt the world spin. I grabbed hold of a chair to steady myself as I closed my eyes shut. Before my dad had time to react, I held up my hand, knowing what he would do next. "I'm ok." I breathed out, with eyes still closed.

"Maybe you should sit down and rest," he suggested with concern.

I nodded. At least that would get me out of folding napkins. I sat down in the closest chair and put my head between my legs to make the world stop spinning. I heard him walk away, leaving me alone in the dining room for privacy.

I felt liquid run down my lips. Out of habit, I brought my head upright and touched my hand to my nose. I looked at the red liquid on my fingers and frowned at them as if it was their fault. I wasn't supposed to get any more nose bleeds. The new medicine I was on guaranteed to fix this. I reached for the napkin on the plate beside me and shoved it up my nose.

I prayed with all I had that it would stop. I couldn't have this happen, not now. If my parents saw this, they would cancel and I couldn't like that happen.

Farrah walked into the room with a smile but quickly dropped it then she looked at me. "Clare? Oh... let me get-"

I cut her off. I didn't want her to mess this moment up. She better keep this secret for me too. "Don't get anyone," I hissed, not allowing anyone else to hear except her.

She frowned but nodded. "You're going to need to change your shirt," she said.

"Yeah," I said and got up from my chair. I ran upstairs as quickly as I could muster, then into my bedroom before my parents noticed.

I changed into a different outfit that was slightly too large for me to replace the one I soiled. With the soiled shirt in hand, I ran it under water in the bathroom and scrubbed it together to get the blood out. I was no stranger to getting blood off of my clothes since nose bleeds happened enough.

I set the shirt dry out on the side of the tub to dry, then ran my fingers through my short hair to smooth it over. I gave one last look in the mirror to see if I got all the blood off my face. Seeing nothing on my pale white face, I gave a small smile. Like nothing happened.

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I walked down the stairs and took a seat in the dining room, pulling out my phone to appear busy. "Clare, why did you change your outfit?" mom asked me as she carried a pitcher of juice in her hands.

"I didn't like what I was wearing," I said plainly, not looking up from my phone.

"Are you ok? You look a little pale."

Oh, that's so funny. I already looked like I had no color to my skin but to her, I could look paler. I looked up from my phone, giving a harsh chuckle. "I'm already pale, mom." At that moment, the doorbell rang. Looking for anything to get out of this conversation, I got up from the chair and said, "I'll get it."

I walked to the door and opened it to see Peter and his parents on the other side. "Hello. Come in," I said politely as I stepped aside and let them enter our house.

Peter smiled widely at me, as if excited to see me. "Hi, Clare. You look nice."

I looked at myself, then shrugged at him. My clothes hung like bags against my thin body. I didn't understand how these clothes could make me look nice. "It's just clothes. But thanks."

At that moment my parents walked over to greet them. They started a light conversation and then invited them into the dining room. There, Farrah introduced herself. smiling politely and flowing into the conversation flawlessly as if she was older than her years.

She was always good at talking to people. This was something that I always failed at since she was more social than I was. She understood how to deal with people, something I didn't understand. Being stuck at home killed any social skills that I might have once had, which was another reason that I didn't understand why Peter wanted to talk to me.

Quickly we all took a seat around the large table and Peter sat by me. "Is that ok?" he asked me as if it wasn't.

I looked at him, trying to understand why he was asking me. It was the only seat left available, so even if I had a problem with it, it wasn't like I could protest. "Sure. I don't see why not?"

The conversations continued as I sat back in my chair and listened. I preferred to listen in the background anyhow, knowing that if I talked, they would realize that I was the weird one, the one that was socially awkward. Then that would lead to questions that I didn't want to answer.

The sounds of their voices grew fainter as I paid less attention to what they were saying and more towards my own thoughts. This was fun, but I knew that I probably shouldn't get invested as a friend of theirs. After all, I didn't know how long I had and it was better not to let them care about Clare, who they just met. It would just be easier if I were in the background, so that is where I would stay.

"Clare, now Peter has told me you're homeschooled," Peter's mom said to me.

"Mmm...." I said as I looked up at her, trying to understand what she was asking. I had paid little attention to the conversation for the past 5 minutes. After a second I realized what she asked me. "Yeah. I'm homeschooled, I go to an online school and take a few college classes at the local university. I plan to do that this coming school year too," I explained.

"That's so interesting to me. I've never met anyone that was homeschooled before. What made you want to be homeschooled?" she asked.

I frowned at her as I looked around the table, hoping my parents wouldn't speak for me. They looked at me with a smile; I think they were just happy I was talking. But this was the exact reason I didn't like to talk. Too many questions.

Regarding wanting to be homeschooled, I didn't. My parents forced me. Like they do with so many other things in my life. They thought I was too sick to go to school, so they pulled me out and here we are. They always thought they knew best, and I found it annoying. Didn't they understand it was my life they were messing with? I always did things against my will because of them. "We thought it would be a better experience for me than public school was," I said to them.

"You've been homeschooled for how long?"

"About 2 years I think. Probably a little more," I said and took a bite of potato.

"Aren't you afraid that you are missing out on school activities?" she asked.

I was, and I hated that part. I missed out on everything. I felt so disconnected from people my age. I didn't know what they wanted to talk about; I didn't understand their dreams because my dreams and conversations were so much different from theirs. That was why I felt so socially awkward. "I do sometimes, but I make it work. I just feel that homeschooling is the best for me at this moment, so I deal with it."

"I take her to some activities. She's my go-to girl for those things," Farrah spoke up, saving me from my conversation with Peter's mom.

I gave her a small smile, thanking her. She returned the smile, then looked at Peter's mother again.

"So you two are close?" Dorothy asked us.

"Very," Farrah said, and smiled.

And she wasn't lying. Farrah was my best friend. She was my only friend, but even if I had more, I knew she would be my favorite. She kept me up to date on all the high school drama and made me feel like I wasn't so disconnected all the time.

They started going into another conversation, and I blocked it out, as I felt worse. Minutes ticked by and all I wanted to do was go upstairs and call it a night. I poked the salad around on my plate for a few minutes and I eventually gave up eating all together.

I felt sick to my stomach, dizzy with a headache. I did not want to eat anymore; I didn't want to talk anymore; I didn't want to be with them anymore. I shoved the plate to the side and listened to the dinner conversation, as they were now talking about Peter's father's job. Not very exciting, if you ask me.

After a minute Peter whispered, "is that all you're going to eat?"

I looked at him, then at my small leftover plate of food. "Yeah."

He looked at the plate, then looked at me. He was judging me. I crossed my arms over my chest to look bigger than I was. "That was nothing. You don't have to eat less when you are around me."

Oh, my gosh. Did he think I was one of those girls that actually cared? "It was something to me," I said, getting frustrated with this conversation. He barely knew me; how could he judge me like that? If he knew what was going on, he would leave me alone. I turned to dad, that was to the right of me. "Can I be excused? I need to finish studying for the test I'm going to take tomorrow."

"We should probably get going anyhow. I've got to get ready for work tomorrow," Peter's dad said and looked at the time on his phone.

"Ok," my parents said at once with sadness in their voice. They didn't have many visitors and I think they were really enjoying this night. Maybe they would even become good friends and I think that would be good for them. They needed that.

I felt like I was a black hole in their life. I took over all their goals, hobbies, and friends. They needed more than me. They needed to get to their old life again, and if Peter's family would help with that, I was happy.

We all got up from the table went to the front door. "It was so nice to get to know you better. Thanks for letting us come over," Dorthy said with a smile.

Peter turned to me and asked, "it was good to see you again. But I want to get to know you more."

I held myself back from rolling my eyes at him. Yeah, right, he was just being kind. I barely spoke at all; how could he still be interested in me? I was that quiet girl in the corner. I was a shell of emptiness. I was nothing but bad genes.

How could he have gotten to know me better from this dinner? I was sure that as soon as he left today I wouldn't talk to him again. He wouldn't want someone like me. He was more of a cheerleader type, I could tell. "It was nice to get to know you too," I said to him and then opened the front door. "I'll see you around."

"When?" he asked eagerly

"You'll see me around soon," I shrugged. I smiled politely at the parents and with that, I went upstairs, where I could rest.