Transparent lives

Chapter one- Moody Assumptions

It was a cold November morning as the kids shuffled to school. Orange leaves drifted down and landed gently on the cracked sidewalk, only to be trampled by many pairs of sneakers seconds later. A pale brown haired boy looked around the familiar faces, many chatting and smiling, laughing even. One wasn't. It was a Junior as far as he could tell, and she was just standing there with a blank look on her face, the wind blowing through her hair. Not that it moved much, there were too many fiery curls to tell the separate hairs apart. This was the normal routine though, as she stood there everyday, just waiting, just watching. Not many knew her name, most simply called her 'the watcher', and Timothy wasn't any different in that respect. He would watch her from time to time, just to see if she would blink, or breathe, or do much of anything. Nothing changed. Nothing in this town ever changed, it always had the same people, the same shops, same events, but they weren't a boring town either. More of a comfortable homeness.
That didn't last forever though, not as long as Timothy had imagined. That same November morning brought with it an East Wind. He was doing his normal watching, eyes glancing to the Watcher every now and then. A shiny new mini van rolled up to the curb, small heads bouncing around through the tinted windows and a woman in the front making motions to calm them down. The side door slid open and a new kid poked his head out, looking around and slowly sliding onto the pavement. A few heads turned but he went mostly unnoticed. Except the Watcher. Her eyes had locked onto him, scanning his figure and tracking his every movement. The new kid didn't seem to notice though, and awkwardly tried to wade through the crowd in front of the school. Timothy decided to intervene here, quickly darting around to cut him off.
"Hey there squirt." Well, he would have said that at least. Instead his hands made quick motions, mouth unmoving. The new kid seemed confused for a moment before looking up. "Uh, hey..." Tim raised a brow at this but didn't question him (he would do that later). 'I see you're new here, what's your name, man?' The kid was quiet for a minute, processing his signs into words most likely, and smiled a bit. "Oliver. Oliver Aster." Timothy nodded, smiling down at him. 'Welcome to Factum Est High School, Oliver'
Oliver arrived at his first class barely on time, getting both feet through the door just as the bell rang. He took a deep breath and sat in the closest empty seat and set his bag down. The teacher was already standing there, going through a few papers and pushing her glasses up, but barely glancing up when Oliver darted in. The guy next to him was staring as soon as he sat down, looking less than thrilled about having him there. "Hey...?" The dark skinned male seemed awkward as he stared up at the taller student (most everyone was taller than him in this grade), staring into his piercing green eyes. He seemed almost to be searching his soul. "Ye best shut yer trap in this class, she don't tolerate noise well." The boy gestured to the teacher who had now straightened up, holding her papers and started walking to the board. Oliver nodded once. "Uhm, thank you." "Me name's Matthew, and ye should stay out of me way."
The class was a drag, teacher stiff and boring, everything a technical blob of information. Ms. Magnus was about as exciting as watching paint dry, but Oliver tried his best to take notes so he didn't fall asleep. Turns out, most of the class did this anyway, a snore from his left causing Oliver to jump. His table partner had fallen asleep. A sigh escaped him as he grabbed Matthew's notebook and started doing his notes for him. It actually helped a lot, keeping him from passing out and letting him go over what he'd written twice to make sure it was right. They weren't terribly hard notes, just extensive and over complicated. Oliver did his own simplifications. It was about three minutes until the bell rang and he shook Matthew awake, grunting and mumbling. "Oulda slept fer two more minutes." He packed his things up and noticed the open notebook. Oliver simple got up, the bell ringing a few seconds later. "You're welcome."
The Watcher stood in front of her locker, tugging at a binder labeled 'Social studies'. She huffed and gave a final tug before it shifted and fell out into her hands. It felt heavy in her hands, unused for many years. The Watcher shuffled down to the bathroom, shutting a stall and locking it before opening it and flipping through the pages. Names, names and names were all through the pages that were faded and yellow with age. The names were all the people in the school, written in pen so they were bold against the dull background. The Watcher grabbed her pencil, scratching down a new name, one among the many rows. 'Oliver Aster'.
Matthew was in all of Oliver's classes it seemed. Except maybe gym, but that was about it. They rest of the day wasn't horrible, Matthew gave him tips in his own... kind of friendly way. He only had a problem with reading. The teacher was lifeless in her speech and downright unpleasant when she explained the book. It would make even the most avid reader despise books. He strayed away from her lecture multiple times, looking at the ceiling, or watching people get on their phones. Mrs. Girdon would kill him by the end of the year it seems. When the bell finally rang he shot out of the room, darting down the hall and shoving open the school doors. The cold air slapped him across the face but he didn't care, hopping down the steps and landing hard on the pavement. Oliver took a deep breath as he looked around the courtyard. Few people were already out, waiting for their friends or playing on their phones, sometimes both.
Timothy was there, book in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He walked over and tapped his shoulder, standing there awkwardly. The taller male jumped and shut his book quickly, looking around. 'Oh, it's you.' A smile broke out on his face as he set his book down. Oliver nodded. "It's me, yes. Whatcha reading there?" He flushed a bit and handed it to him. The cover read 'Headstrong: A guide to dragons and creatures alike' The senior's eye lit up. "Oooo~ cool." They chat for a bit, Timothy explaining The Watcher to Oliver, and in turn being told about Matthew. Timothy regarded this with curiosity.
Speaking of the irishman, he came walking down the steps now. People seemed to part from his way just a little bit and whisper to each other, some even giving him disapproving looks. Oliver raised a brow, waving him over and smiling like he hadn't seen anything. "Hey, Matthew." "Good day, Oli." He gave a dry smile. "Life be treating ye good?" Timothy scanned his being and started signing again.'Why were they looking at you like that?' Matthew paused and looked to Oliver for help, getting a hum in reply. "He asked why they were looking at you like that." Timothy nodded to let him know that he had translated correctly. Matthew sighed. "They be thinking I'm a stoner." He looked away to one of the groups next to them and watched them all shuffle away. Oliver's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry..." Matthew shrugged, looking away and holding one arm. A lock of hair fell over his eyes, obscuring his view and blocking the thankful expression he had.
The three walked home together, chatting and laughing like all the the other kids. Oliver translated everything Timothy said for Matthew and taught him a few basic signs. Matthew described his home life, how his dad was barely there for him and his mom, and his mom had to work two jobs just so she could pay the rent. Timothy would talk about all the different mythical creatures he'd read about in his book, how each area of the world had different ones and how much they fascinated him. His eyes would light up whenever he started describing Japanese myths, signing faster and mouthing along with his signs. Oliver smiled a bit, finding this one of the best things about his new friend, he liked his passion.
Someone waited in the shadows, watching them and narrowing their eyes. They could practically see the warm feeling of happiness that surrounded the group. It was thick and bright and contagious. The invisible cloud moved along with them, leaving behind a trace of unmistakable joy. It sickened them. Happiness, especially like this. It was unnecessary at best, a burden at worse. Yet others were always trying to find it, looking everywhere for it when in the real world happiness was but a given. They scoffed to themselves as this brought of memories of their own, laughing, having a good time. Pathetic little me. The figure smirked though, seeing them fade off into the rows of houses. This bond, this care for each other, would tear them apart before they even knew what was happening.