Ever since I was little, my daddy has always been “encouraging” me. He says he just wants me to succeed in life. I know he means well, but he expects way too much. I’m only 13. My childhood isn’t over yet. I just want to be a kid while I can, and not have to worry about adult stuff. I was upposed to have a piano lesson that night. I was never very good, but I wasn't bad either. I didn't particularly like it, but I didn't not like it... if that makes any sense. Oh, and I’m a straight A student, too. School’s fine, I guess. My teachers are nice. I have a few close friends, but I’m not popular. I guess you could say my life is pretty boring. Not much happens around here.
Well, that day, some jerk pushed me over in the hallway. Being the clutz that I am, I completely toppled, spewing all my belongings on the floor, landing flat on my face. He didn’t even turn around, say sorry, or anything. Just kept walking, as if nothing happened. But there was nothing I could do, because with every second I spent imagining how good it would feel to punch him, all my stuff was getting kicked around the crowded hallways. Nobody bothered to help me, or even pretended to care. I hate those people. They just stepped over me, like I didn’t matter at all, just because I’m not at the top of the social hierchy pyramid. But I’m not at the bottom, either. I’m just in the middle. Actually, I’m in the middle of just about everything. I was late to class that day. But I’m so glad I was.
The bell rang as I stuffed the last of my papers into one of my many folders. I had never been late to class before. About a minute later, I approached the door to my chemistry class. I like science. It's really the only thing I'm good at. I like my teacher, too, Mr. Schmidt. He’s nice. It's obvious I'm his favorite. A lump appeared in my throat. My first tardy. EVER. My palms sweated. Slowly, I turned the doorknob.
I expected to see Mr. Schmidt standing in front of the class, going on about the paper that’s due next week. And then when he sees me coming in, late, his normally bright eyes would narrow in disappointment. And then the others would join in. But that’s not what happened at all.
When I walked in, the classroom was empty. No sign of life whatsoever. All of the chair neatly pushed in, desks and floors spotless. There’s no way a bunch of 13 year-olds would do this. I scanned the room, puzzled beyond belief. Did they simply vanish into thin air?
“I knew we were missing someone." Said a deep, manly voice behind me. I turned around to see a tall man in a suit, staring down at me with a grim look on his face.
“Who are you?!? And what happened to the rest of the class?!?” I yelled. But my demands seemed to in one ear and out the other.
“Just come with me and all your questions will be answered.” He said, in a calm, soothing tone. But before I had a chance to say anything else, he put a syringe in my arm and it all went black.
