Well here it is. It's just the first chapter and I didn't change much to it. Hope you enjoy it. Please review after your done reading.

CHAPTER ONE

"Invisible"

Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get. If that is true, then I got the rotten one. The outcast, the misfit, the loser candy. The candy that everyone throws away without a second glance to see if it is really rotten and not just covered with dust. Nobody sees me. I might as well be invisible.

There is one good thing to being a wallflower. I hear all the juicy rumors of St. Ridgemont High. I know, for example, that the head cheerleader is pregnant and doesn't know who the father is. The captain of the football team is failing half of his classes and if he doesn't pull them up in two months will be suspended from the team. Then, possibly the best one yet, Casey Pasnic was suspended for two weeks not for fighting but for being caught in the boy's bathroom doing the dirty in one of the stalls. I also heard that the girl's father is pressing charges because Casey is eighteen and the girl was only sixteen.

Even though I hear all the rumors at school, I would rather discard my wallflower label. Loneliness is a disease for me. Even those who are cruelly made fun of have it better than me. They have a large group of friends that band together like an army, and they support each other. I don't have that. It's rather difficult for those who are wallflowers to create a group of friends because either I am the only one, or we have become so good at hiding ourselves that even other wallflowers don't see you.

Yet I did have one friend, Amy, who then turned into one of 'them'. The popular people. A clique that I simultaneously loathe and want to join. Amy was my friend for the first year of high school, when I was semi-seen. People acknowledged me but didn't befriend me. Gradually throughout the second half of the year Amy started getting more and more distant. After thinking about it for long strenuous periods of time amounting to five seconds, I decided the point where she started to change was when one of the football players started paying attention to her. Then everything went downhill.

"Em, I don't think we can be friends anymore. Uh, um, Brad thinks we need more time to spend together. He's feeling, uh, neglected. Sorry."

That was her way of saying Brad, her football player boyfriend, didn't want to be seen with me. Just great, I was dumped by my only friend just because her boyfriend, who she doesn't even talk to anymore, was embarrassed by me. Amy has remained a part of the popular crowd and participates in ignoring me. Except Amy knows that I exist, she just chooses to believe that I am not there.

Yet there are two people who acknowledge my presence and make it known that they don't like the idea that I am here. My father takes pleasure in the pain caused by his words. If verbal abuse could kill, I would have been dead long ago. My mother died when I was ten and my father remarried two months later to a tall blond airhead named Veronica. I hate her with all my heart. Right from the beginning she demanded I call her 'mom' or 'ma' or even worse, 'mommy'. But the one thing I hate most about her is the way she points out every little thing that is wrong with me. Her favorite target is my clothing.

"What are you wearing?"

"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen."

"I can't believe you are wearing that."

And my personal favorite.

"Where did you get that?"

My clothing comes from the church's discard pile. So naturally my clothing is a season, or ten, out of style. Sometimes I feel embarrassed about wearing clothes from the discard pile because I see everyone else wearing nice clothes probably bought by a loving parent and here I am in old overalls with an old stretched out shirt. They wear Birkenstocks and I wear dirty old Keds. Neither my father nor my 'mother' want to spend money on clothing for me though there is more than enough money.

My father is the vice-president of the WaterCo Company and brings home hefty paychecks each month. Though lately WaterCo has been having financial problems and my father fears that he'll be demoted in the upcoming months.

Veronica doesn't do anything all day. She's a housewife, or so she says. All she does is sit in front of the television and watch her soap operas. A lazy bum describes her more accurately than a housewife.

Sometimes I daydream about my knight in shinning armor coming to rescue me from the Hell I call my life. I dream that suddenly someone starts talking to me and actually sees me. That has never happened.

Well, not until yesterday.

The old and musty building known as St. Ridgemont High stands towering over me. It's a very old building, almost a hundred, which had once been the courthouse when Ridgemont had been a new town. Benches are scattered across the lawn and trees offer the shade desired on a hot September day like this. Adjusting my overalls I assume my typical role as social wallflower.

There is this small corner in the commons area of our high school where I like to sit before school and during lunch. I can see everyone pass by without standing out too much. That is where I am now, with my notebook.

I have ten notebooks in all filled with everything from short stories, drawings, poems, and even song lyrics. I'm not a great singer but I do have a knack for stringing words together. It's my outlet from all the turmoil in my life and the only thing that I can vent my emotions in. Rarely am I seen without my notebook.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where the main office is?"

Startled, I look up into the bright blue eyes of a boy around my age wearing a black Element hoodie and a pair of cargo khaki shorts. His light brown hair is shaggy which actually looks good on him. Not too many guys can pull off the shaggy hair do without looking like a hobo. This guy can. He stands with his skateboard in one hand and a black backpack in the other.

"Um, hello?"

A hand waves in front of my face. Suddenly I have realized that for the past minute or so, I had been staring with a gapping open mouth at this guy. Redness creeps up my face and I suddenly find my off-white Keds very intriguing to me. Extremely intriguing.

"Uh, I guess I can find it on my own."

Staring at his retreating back I mentally slap myself. I am an idiot, a stupid idiot with the social skills of a snail. I had stared at him as if he has broccoli stuck to his teeth with my mouth wide open! Jeez, what's wrong with me? But what's the use? He's just going to become another one who doesn't see me.

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~~Sunne~~