“Okay, class,” Mrs. Hendrix’s, my language arts teacher, voice droned through the school library, “get with your assigned partner and start working on the subject I just handed you.”

Instead of getting up to find my partner (I’ll let whoever it is find me), I yawned and squinted, daydreaming about how refreshing silently smoking after school in the alley would be. Thank god it’s seventh period on a Friday.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on my shoulder, “Um, you’re Cathy, right?” I looked up to see the person who had just spoken to me. He had an accent that reminded me of a slightly altered version of Jeff Fatt’s from The Wiggles accent. So of course, I see the new transfer student, Jake from New Zealand, standing behind me. He had wavy pitch-black hair that fell below his ears.

After a little pause, I replied with a simple, “Yeah.”

“Um, then we should go to the computers to find sources, probably.”

I replied again with another simple “Yeah.”

We had gotten to the computers and I had already found one source when he decided to start a conversation, in the strangest way.

“I’m an alien.”

I blinked hard a couple of times, then turned to him and raised my right eyebrow. “You’re an alien? What planet do you hopefully come in peace from?”

He smiled and laughed once. “Nah, not from outer space; though I feel like I’m from space here. I was home schooled back in New Zealand, y’know.”

“Damn, I would never be able to deal with my dad all day.” I laughed, “And I’m way better at math than both my parents combined.” Our conversation ended for a bit; he found a source (finally) and printed it. When he came back and sat down next to me again, I started it up again. “Hey, since you’re an alien, I could be your little sidekick or something. Since I’m invisible.”

He smiled and agreed with me, “Totally. Alien from Oceania and the Invisible Girl teaming together to battle the boring research topic: Ballpoint Pen!” We both laughed until Mrs. Hendrix glared at us from across the room and put her finger to her lips, signaling for us to shut up or get a detention.

Jake and I both found one more source each before Mrs. Hendrix rose from her “throne” (which is a quick way to say a wheelie chair students aren’t allowed to sit in) and announced while sounding bored, “Start packing up, class it ending soon. And remember to have at least three sources when you walk in class Monday.”

I grabbed my beloved shoulder bag and crammed it with long, boring sources about the history of pens. Once I got my journal in, the bell rang, signaling us to get to our next class. While I walked out the library door, Jake called: “See you Monday, Invisible Girl!”

I grinned and called back, “You too; try not to obliterate any humans with your death ray over the weekend!”

I took a deep as I walked outside after the school day was over. I’ve always been the first one out, since I don’t go to my locker unless I bring a coat. This was to my advantage, because then no one could follow me to whichever alley I was going to go smoke in. I walked about five blocks away from school premises just to be safe before I checked around me and then turned into an alley. Normally, the alley I would walk into would be nice and empty. Though this time, I turn and see someone else who look around my age leaning against a garage in the middle of the short alley. They clearly notice me standing there with a ready cigarette and a lighter in my hand, not knowing what to do. I look closer and see that this person staring at me from the alley is also holding a cigarette. I thank my stars for saving me there; this person definitely wouldn’t call the cops on me. Though when I look closer, I also realize that this person staring at me from the alley is Jake, my new alien friend.

“Oh, crap.” I hear Jake mutter.

“Ditto.”