Chapter 1

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Everyone has their secrets. Mine is just a bit more...extreme than others.

The thug swings his blade, each movement more frantic than the last. Blood is trickling out of his bruised nose, courtesy of me, while his panicked eyes are taking in their surroundings.

"Where are the hell are you?" He bellows furiously, thrashing his knife about a few more times in an act of desperation and horror.

I'm invisible.

I smirk before kicking his feet out from under him. The thief falls to the ground with a grunt and, while I would happily continue messing with him, I can hear sirens approaching in the distance. Curiously, I look about the alley to find the girl he was trying to mug earlier has already run off. Judging by the lights I can see, she called the cops too. There's no reason for me to stick around so, while the cops come running into the alley, I walk out without a care, unseen by all.

Behind me the thug is shouting about an "invisible force, an alien I'm telling you, an alien" that the cops obviously don't care about.

Alien? How rude, I'm a totally normal teenage boy!

Well, I guess that's not true since most teenagers may feel invisible but that doesn't mean that they actually are. I, on the other hand, am both, in the metaphorical and physical sense.

I've never met anyone like me, someone who can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye. I guess I'm not totally average but no one would see me as anything special otherwise.

In school, I'm a nobody. I'm not even one of the nerds that gets shoved in a locker. I'm, for lack of a better word, invisible. I blend in with the surroundings and that's ok seeing as people leave me be but sometimes I wish for something more. Sometimes I want more. Sometimes I want to be the cool kid that stands out in the crowd. Sometimes I want to be Mr. Popular with a hundred and one different friends and always something to do.

Sometimes I want to be anyone other than me.

Mom doesn't get that. She never has, always spouting about how I'm already special, that I'm already unique, that we all are and wishing to be someone else is only going to hurt us in the long run. I get her point, really, I do but...sometimes it just sucks.

"Hey, Micah!"

I hesitate in the unlocking my front door, glancing to my left at Leo standing on his porch next door. His short blonde hair is dripping with sweat and, judging by the gear he's carrying, he's just gotten home from soccer practice. He gives me a smile; one that he'll give to anyone. He's just too nice not to acknowledge others.

"You're home late," my neighbor says, sitting his belongings on the porch. I hum in response, giving him a quick nod before walking into my home. Our conversation ends as quickly as it started.

Leo has lived next door since we were kids. We're the same age but he's the Mr. Popular I mentioned earlier, the one that stands out in a crowd, the one with a hundred and one friends, the one with always something to do, a somebody. I suppose he's not the typical jock because he's never been mean, never bullied anyone or let them be bullied. He's the Mr. Popular that should be Mr. Popular.

Sometimes it's kind of annoying, other times he's kind of cool.

"Where have you been?" Mom asks when I walk through the door. She's standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, a stance that means a lecturing is on its way. Damn, haven't even taken my shoes off and I'm getting nagged. Is this a record?

"Walking home?"

"It doesn't take that long to walk home."

"I had to take a piss along the way, holy shit, mom."

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