Connor (2 page)

I go to Randell High, a typical redbrick school housing two stories of adolescent craziness due to uncontrollable hormones. My school houses ninth through twelfth graders.

For a small town, our school consists of a gymnastics team, a swim team, a hockey team, a soccer team, and a basketball team. We also have a step team, ranked number 1 in our division, and of course our all-star football team. I guess the grown folk around here want us teens to stay busy so we don't find trouble.

Like all other schools, freshmen, a.k.a. “cabbage heads,” are picked on. I have no clue where that name came from, but it's a tradition. The seniors, mostly jocks, tend to do the torturing; and when I say torture, I mean stuffing the cabbage heads in lockers, dumping them in garbage cans, or locking them into the bathroom storage closets besides whatever else.

Every so often, Mr. Stuckey, the principal, rescues one sad soul encapsulated by metal restriction. As if being rescued by the principal is not humiliating enough, bringing him to class is even worse, which is a major no-no because they, the students rescued, tend to be condemned to a life of never-ending cruelty. One would be better off running away from the principal and getting detention.

Rule is if you cannot wiggle your way out of forced purgatory, then stay there until the bully who put you in gets you out. If you yell for help or whine about it, then it is the same thing as ratting them out. How twisted is that?

On the other hand, the new girls get the threatening stares, the snide looks, and the occasional shove. I obviously signed up for a fashion-slash-popularity contest that I was clearly not aware I entered.

I muddle through without any help from Ebony, who feels I should toughen it out. She holds as much sympathy as what a thimble can hold, an itty-bitty metal one that doesn't give an ounce. I would say she is part vampire since her personality is so draining it sucks the joy right out of my life, but vampires I like—her, not so much. She is definitely part something unnatural. I just haven't figured out what yet.

We only have one person that tends to the unnatural hygienic wonders of this school, and I don't know how he does it. It's remarkably spotless even though he is hardly around. His name is Mr. Johnston, but we call him Ole Man Johnston since he moves like an old man.

He appears to be in his mid-thirties, is muscular, and has a perfectly round shiny bald head. He never smiles, ever, as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders from an unfortunate past. One would think he was healthy enough to work anywhere. I think it has something to do with a type of certain liquid refreshment that is illegal for a young person like me. If you speak, he will respond, but that's as far as the conversation ever goes because he always strolls off after that.

I heard he was in a bad car accident years ago that made him crazy, that's why he stays to himself mostly, and that he lives in the school basement. I don't believe it, the basement part, but I don't have any plans of finding out.

I have too many other things going on in my life to concern myself with, like my studies, or the lack of in my case. My parents impressed upon me if I didn't bring up my grades, I will be sentenced to my bedroom for all eternity. Eternity was only until the end of school year, but that is excessively long, it might as well be the end of my life.

So I devised a plan to avoid my tests to give myself more time to study. Therefore, every time there was one, I would go invisible, or rather, using my preferred terms, “unseen,” “disappear,” or “vanish.” Only my plan wretchedly fails every time. I tried and tried for months with no such luck. It was as if “the powers that be” were sitting around conspiring against me. I started to think it was all in my head and that I'm officially certifiable.

Seriously, I should be upset at the fact that it even happened or at least shocked, but no, I was excited about it. For once, I felt special; you know, different.

Then it finally did happen again when I slipped right in front of Robert, Ebony's boyfriend, the hottest boy in school. He is six feet two, captain of the football team, and smells oh so heavenly.

Angela and I were walking in the hall between classes after they must have attempted to clean up a spill.

Angela, who is my age and one of my best friends, is sweet but unscrupulously nosy. When she knows something is up, she will figure it out, trust me. She is maybe four inches taller than I am and wears only the trendiest fashions from off the runways. Just between you and me, her mom sews her fabulous clothes, but you can't tell. Her mom happens to be a tailor who can make anything from Italian-style wedding dresses to edgy rocker wear.

Anyway, I didn't notice the bright yellow Wet Floor sign right in front of me. It should have been a big fat yellow sign that read “Hey, idiot, watch out, you're about to bite it for the hundredth time.” That I would have seen.

One minute I was standing upright talking to Angela, the next I was spread-eagled in front of the kid and his teammates with my skirt up. There was a crowd around me to watch the show, staring, this time, at my Superman boy shorts and me. People were laughing, pointing, and cheering at my not-so-graceful landing. Someone yelled, “Hey, Superman, she's calling you!” or “Why are you wearing your brother's underwear?”

I was wet and embarrassed. I really should not get emotional about these situations anymore, honestly. My sister was right there glaring at me. As if I did it on purpose.

She bent over, and I thought she'd help me up, but no. Instead she whispered, “Stop humiliating me” in my ear. She at least pulled down my skirt before she stood up and walked off with Robert consoling her.

Seriously!

Angela came over to help me up. I thanked her and ran to the bathroom. She yelled for me to wait up as she gathered my books. No way. I was out. I ran warp speed, knowing she could never catch up with me.

I made it to the bathroom hardly anyone used. It's supposed to be haunted according to, well, everybody. I think Ole Man Johnston made it up so he can get his drink on.

Once again, I stood in front of the mirror totally humiliated. I was wiping my boy shorts off with a paper towel, thinking how I wanted to die. The Superman comments were unnecessary.

After I finished drying myself off with the bathroom hand dryer, I rechecked myself in the mirror, but my reflection wasn't there. I couldn't believe it—my reflection was gone, even my clothes, yet I could see my hands, arms, legs, everything when I looked down.

It did happen. I didn't imagine it; it actually happened. At least I think so, unless crazy runs in my family. Only one way to find out if it's true is to put it to the test, right? There are people out in the hallway, which makes it the perfect opportunity, so here goes nothing.

I headed toward the front hallway's main entrance, not sure why that direction, but that was where I decided to go. It was about fifty feet to the door, and it was in between classes, so that meant a crowd of teens in my way doing nothing. I held my breath passing people all while thinking to myself, “Please don't change back, please don't change back.”

I passed the front office where Mrs. Potts, the office administrator, sat, staring off in my direction, but she didn't say anything to me. Even if she could see me, she probably wouldn't notice me; she's always on the phone, not working. Everyone knows the only reason she got the job is because she's the principal's niece.

I constantly glanced around, making sure I didn't run into anybody. I evaded a couple not paying attention to anyone else except each other, dodging a flying hand from a girl describing something large, and avoided getting slapped by a swinging backpack. It was like playing dodge ball, but for once during break, I succeeded in not getting hit.

I spotted my sister by her locker and was almost tempted to trip her so she knew how it felt to be embarrassed but decided against it. With my luck, I would enjoy it too much and get busted. Not knowing how this works, I kept on my mission ahead: my freedom.

Finally, I made it to the front entrance without anyone detecting me.

I made it outside as soon as the second bell rang, which meant you should be in your next class seated, according to school law. As expected, no one was or supposed to be outside. It was midmorning, and a cool misty rain greeted me outside, which made the perfect weather to snuggle up somewhere warm. No one will be home until much later, so I decided to head that way for a much-needed snack nap. A snack nap is when you eat a lot of snacks until your belly is full then take a nap.

If the principal decided to call my parents, I will tell them something about not signing in, then throw in the nurse's office to mix things up a bit. Lame, I know, but I kind of didn't plan this jailbreak.

The more I thought about it, the realization of unpreparedness dawned on me. For example, my plan would include a raincoat that hung in my locker; if only I waited until the coast was clear and grabbed what I needed. Too late now. This is what I get for trying to fly by the seat of my pants.

After making it to the last tree in front of the school, I allowed myself a whopping deep breath.

“Psst.”

Whipping my head around to see what was up, I nearly jumped when this kid caught my attention. He was standing behind a huge oak tree, waving me over. I must have tunnel vision because I didn't even notice him standing there.

When did I become visible again? How does this thing work? I told myself to stay calm. Obviously, he goes here too, so chances are he is skipping too.

I cautiously complied as he stood there waiting for me. He didn't look familiar; I had never seen him around before today. He wore loose dark jeans and a red T-shirt with an unfamiliar logo and had about seven inches on me. He leaned against the tree with his arms folded.

He asked, “Where are you headed in such a hurry?” At first, I didn't know what to say. He never talked to me before, so why now? Plus, why would he call me out and make himself known? I was completely caught off guard and stumped. “You can see me? I mean, I'm sick, so I'm headed home.” If this was football, that, ladies and gentlemen, would be called a fumble.

He raised his left eyebrow, giving me the once-over, and said, “You don't look sick to me. What's your name by the way?” I overlooked his eye tour and was hesitant to respond due to nerves but decided to play along. What is the worst that can happen? I will probably never speak to this kid again. “Connor.”

“Antony, but people call me Tony for short,” he said. Don't recall asking but didn't want to sound rude, so instead I asked, “Why are we having small talk on the school lawn right now when we need to jet before we're caught?”

As soon as I asked the question, my neighbor, Mrs. Palmer, came jogging over. “Connor, Connor, is that you?” My mouth fell open as she called me out. Busted. Why

did she need to walk by at this precise moment?

That was Tony's cue to take off, but before he was out of hearing range, he asked, “It's cool, huh?”

I thought that was a strange thing to say, but there were more important matters to concern myself with now, like Mrs. Palmer breathing on the back of my neck making my skin crawl. I slowly turned to face her standing there not three inches from me.

“Why are you out of school?” she asked.

Seriously, she is always around at the worst times. Is Nosy Nelly the new Secret Service? Because obviously I must be important.

“Connor, are you listening to me? I hope you are not skipping. I must call your mother right now. She is on the PTA, and this does not make her look good at all.” She asked but didn't wait for a response before fumbling in her fanny pouch. Sure enough, she called my mom right in front of me.

I slumped back against the tree and sighed. I'm in so much trouble.

That evening at home, I got the scolding of a lifetime. I think I aged about ten years standing there, trying to act as if I was listening. The whole time, Reptile Boy was in the hallway on the floor, laughing and pointing at me through the cracked doorway, but I didn't even care.

I tend to fade out when I'm being mentally abused by my parents; I have mastered the art of nodding and saying “uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.” I caught phrases like “We try our best” and “Not acting like an adult,” which I thought was a silly thing to say. If I were an adult, would I still live here? No way.

I quoted my usual lines: “Yes, Mom,” “No, Dad,” “I don't know what I was thinking,” and “Promise, I won't do it again.” My dad looked at me sadly, as if he was so disappointed that his little girl would ever skip school. Then the comedian came out of him and mumbled something to my mom about the possibility of me taking drugs. My mom swatted him, then he tickled her. They are so disgustingly gross.

The wardens pardoned me, but if it happened again, I will be sentenced for a month to a life of boredom. That meant no phone, no computers, no TV, no friends, no life. They might as well send me to a Nunnery and be done with it.

Later that night, I was lying in my room thinking of the kid Tony who I bumped into outside after my little taste of freedom. Why did he say “It's cool?” When did I become visible again? Also, why am I not freaked out about what occurred today?

Probably because it's cool. I mean, who doesn't want superpowers? Okay, maybe that is a stretch, but honestly, I like it.

Not able to concentrate on my homework, I decided to go to bed early. I drifted off to sleep thinking about the endless possibilities of invisibility.

I woke up to the rousing of the wind whistling. It sounded like a storm was brewing and was about to land at any minute. I covered my head with my cozy down blanket and rolled over drifting back to sleepville.

I stirred for the second time tonight from a commotion at my window. It was a repetitious clatter, preventing me from going back to sleep, probably the tree branches taking a beating from the stormy wind knocking into my window.

Worried about rain getting in, I unburied myself from my safe haven and checked to see what time it was. My alarm clocked glowed 2:00 a.m., still early enough for me to get a few more hours of sleep.

I rolled out of bed to make sure both sides of my windows were closed, since I have a habit of forgetting to latch them before going to bed. There was a chill in the air, forcing me to slip on my bunny slippers, Mr. Ears, to keep my toes warm. I stumbled over, and to no surprise, they were slightly open.

I loved when it rained, and watching it was one of my favorite things to do. I guess that is why I love swimming so much, simply because I love the water. I peered out only to find a clear sky.

As I stared out, I heard my name below. I looked down and saw Tony standing in the bushes, holding some pebbles. He was the noise I kept hearing, not the trees or wind against my windowpane. He motioned for me to come down and pointed toward my backyard.

“What are you doing here? You better leave before someone sees you,” I tried to whisper, but it didn't quite come out that way. I am going to be grounded if my dad hears this.

“I'm not leaving until you come down,” he whispered. “Fine.” Not that I am easy or anything. I mean, I just met the boy, but curiosity caught the better of me, so I decided to go. “Give me two minutes,” I said and held up

two fingers.

“Hurry,” he whispered.

Who does he think he is, my dad?

I shut the window and locked it, then remembered locking it before going to bed earlier. I remember because my dad said it might rain tonight so I should make sure it's closed. Maybe something is wrong with the latch. I will have my dad check it later today.

After popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I snuck down, making sure I didn't step on the side of the steps that creaked. I perfected this technique a long time ago when I used to sneak downstairs after my bedtime to play video games in the basement. Zombies everywhere beware.

As far as basements go, ours didn't have that huge scary cast-iron boiler, so it was safe. As irrational as that sounds, those old boilers look as if they want to gobble up little kids.

Keeping the light off, I kept checking my surroundings to make sure my mom was not waiting for me around the corner. Sometimes she stays up late to watch old black-and-white movies.

The coast was clear, and the back door was guard free. I turned off the motion-sensor light to outside before going out, not wanting to awaken the next-door neighbors.

The full moon should provide enough lighting for us to see. Since it's a full moon, I hope Ebony is not out about in her true form attacking people.

As soon as I closed the back door, I saw him waiting on the far side of the patio, trying to play it cool, watching me walk over. I could clearly see him sitting on the ledge of the patio with a hood draped partly over his head, facing me. It was cooler out than I thought.

I was rubbing the goose bumps on my arms and asked, “What's up?” What was so important that it could not wait until tomorrow at school? I wondered.

He pulled off his hooded sweatshirt and handed it to me. I couldn't help but smile. I thanked him and hurriedly put it on. He stood there with his hands in his pockets as I fumbled with it, since it was huge and I was not. After I remembered how to dress myself, he asked, “Can you meet us at the school Friday night around midnight?”

I didn't notice before, but he was kind of cute. No, I take that back—he was really cute.

“Hello, Earth to Connor,” he asked, waving a hand in front of me to get my attention.

“Yes? Why me, and who are 'we'? How do you know where I live? Are you stalking me?” I asked all at once. Who am I kidding? This is such a small town, everyone knows someone.

He smiled and shook his head, suppressing a laugh. “I'm not stalking you, relax. I know you have like a thousand questions, but trust me, we will answer them the best we can on Friday,” Tony said.

“What are you talking about?” It was hard to register what he was saying. I was still half asleep.

He cocked his head and looked at me funny. “Umm, because you have the ability to not be seen,” he answered.

Woooow, that was an eye-opener. I so did not see that coming. I stood there dazed and confused.

“Hello, invisible, undetected, whatever word you want to use,” he added, stressing the point even further.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I am able to see you. Remember, I called you out today?” he said.

“Yes, I remember but…”

“What, did you think you were the only one?” he asked, cutting me off. “That's strange because I was drawn to the others.”

“There are others? How many others?” I asked.

“You definitely need to come Friday night so we can all meet. Weird, I thought you sensed me yesterday that's why you came out front,” he said.

“No, I didn't have a clue. I thought it was just me,” I said.

“That would be a no,” he said.

“Well, I did. I am not trying to sound obnoxious or anything, but I really had no clue. I don't know about this school midnight meeting.”

He smirked at me. “Your choice,” he said, then he took off, hopping the fence in one swift movement, and just like that, he was gone, not even so much as a good-bye. I was starting to think that was his MO.

Did he really just jump a six-foot fence? I was about to yell “Wait,” remembering I still had his hood on, but it was too late. He was gone. I stood outside on the patio for a while, letting everything he said soak in. I'm not the only one. I'm not sure how I felt about that.

Sneaking back upstairs, I made it back to my room and pulled off his hood. His cologne smelled nice. When I passed my bedroom mirror, I was horrified with what I was wearing. First time a boy visits me at my window, I wear not only pajamas with a hole in the neck, but my sci-fi Stargate SG1, the one Angie's mom sewed for me. That is why he was staring at me when I came out. He wasn't playing it cool; he was in shock.

Connor, you are so sexy.