I MISS THE BUS; it pulls away just as I make it to my stop. My breaths come out in ragged gasps from sprinting, and they create visible puffs in front of my face, mixing with the cold, winter weather. I am sure my cheeks are lit up- spatters of light, rosy pink plastered onto my face.

I have a dark grey scarf wrapped tightly around my neck - placed right above the dark grey peacoat and below the dark grey beanie on top of my messy, auburn hair. Grey is a neutral color, letting me blend into my surroundings. as if I were in a painting. The sky is the backdrop and I am the model. But who is the artist?

With a sigh, I watch the yellow vehicle turn a corner before it is gone completely.

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The car ride to school is silent with my mother's rage and my own defiance.

"It was your own fault that you're late. You couldn't have saved your photography until later?! Priorities, Eleanor, priorities!" She had scolded, her face as red as my cheeks had been moments before we stepped foot into the car.

Now I'll be late to work and how do you expect--

"Now I'll be late to work and how do you expect this family to survive in this economy if we have no money?" she added angrily, an afterthought. An echo of my thoughts.

Life is a circle. Wash, rinse, repeat. I tune out the rest of my mother's mutterings. I already know what she will say.

I do not reply as he pulls up to the main entrance of Mayview High.

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I am walking through the hallways, on my way to sixth period. I am stripped of the peacoat yet I still sport the beanie and the scarf. My camera is wrapped around my neck and I hold it in my hands, fingers resting lightly on the buttons.

Invisible. I am unseen by most -- dull in comparison to the pearls shining at every corner. To those who do see me -- notice me -- I am a disease. A social leper of some sort. But I am still me, right?

A faceless stranger shoulders past me roughly, knocking me to the ground. My backpack falls to the floor, its contents spilling onto the surface. My heart races and I panic; my hands create a protective cage around my camera and only my body feels the impact. It hurts -- it really hurts. But at least my camera is safe.

Blinking stars out of my eyes, I meet the gaze of the stranger who had toppled me over, but I still do not recognize him. He is just one of Them.

"Watch it," he scoffs. There is annoyance in his dark brown eyes as he runs his left hand through his tousled dirty blond hair. There is a splash of light brown on his plaid shirt, ruining the blue and white pattern on the expensive looking material. An empty coffee cup is in his right hand, slowly caving in on itself as the boy crushes the cup in anger. A crowd starts to gather among us and I know immediately that my invisible status is gone.

"What happened?" A  voice breaks through the murmurs and I see a well-manicured hand slide up the bicep of Him, before turning my attention to the girl in question. Her, I do recognize. She is in my pre-calculus class; her name is Madison Coolridge. Age seventeen; junior; head cheerleader; blue eyes; blonde hair; girlfriend of Bryce Hamilton.

Oh.

"Ask her," An accusing finger points at me.

"What happened?" Madison repeats her question in a cool manner, though the undertone of annoyance is clear beneath its depths. I don't even move, the sides of my lips twitching.

"Well? Say something," says Madison, narrowing her eyes at me. I only stare at her with wide eyes, snapping my mouth shut.

"Just let it go, Maddy. She doesn't talk, remember?" A new voice calls over my shoulder, and I glance up to see another girl walk up to Madison, grabbing her arm.

"Oh, so this is the. . . special kid, Liana?" Madison pops an 'o' of mock surprise, a spark of interest in her light blue eyes. Liana nods beside her.

The head cheerleader releases her friend's arm and shoos a hand away at her boyfriend, Bryce. She stops in front of me, bending over so she can look me in the eyes. 

"Listen, kid," She enunciates incredibly slow, as if I were mentally challenged. I want to say, I am in your grade! Stop treating me like this because I'm different. But I don't speak.

I don't wish to waste words on a sentence like that.

"Next time, be careful where you walk. Normal people do," Madison continues.

I stare at her.

Frowning at my lack of a reaction, she flips her hair and straightens, hooking an arm through Bryce's. 

"Come on, baby, let's get you cleaned up," The two begin to leave alongside Liana; the crowd around us has already begun to disperse.

I watch them go, her words going over my head. Instead, I realize that from the angle the Golden Couple were walking in, the fluorescent light above them cast a golden shadow on top of their heads. Excitedly, I force myself to stand up, ignoring the throbbing in my right shin. My feet run towards them, and when I catch up, I tap Madison on the shoulder.

She turns around in surprise, and so does Bryce. Perfect.

I lift the camera to my face and suddenly I am in my own world. My own element. It is just me, time, and my camera. There is a soft click, signaling my picture was successfully taken. Lowering my camera, I accidentally meet Bryce's surprised -- disgusted -- gaze. He opens his mouth.

"Freak."

  ↛  

I am back at the pile of my belongings and late to class. My hands frantically try to scoop everything up and into my backpack. I nearly jump when two hands pick up the remaining textbooks on the floor and hand them to me. Glancing up, I see a boy. My age; black hair; green eyes; carrying a guitar case. He gives me a small smile and then he's gone.

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Dedicated to one of my favorite wattpad authors, AnchoredShips.