The Approaching Curve

Invisible.

in·vis·i·ble  [ɪnˈvɪzəbəl]

adj.

1. Impossible to see; not visible.

2. Not accessible to view; hidden.

3. Not easily noticed or detected; inconspicuous.

That is what Madelynn Rein was.

Invisible.

No one noticed her as she walked the halls in Laguna Beach High.

No one noticed her, ever.

No one knew her name.

Teachers didn't pay much attention to her.

She wanted all A's but she got B's.

She tried to be the best she could be.

Her foster parents, Marcy and Jaques wanted her to be number one.

Grades.

Popularity.

Sports.

Everything.

She couldn't.

Humans weren't made to be perfect.

Or so she thought.

Marcy and Jacques had a son named Alex.

Alex was perfect.

Their definition of perfect.

Perfect grades.

Perfect friends.

Perfect looks.

Perfect clothes.

Perfect athlete.

Perfect love life.

Perfect everything.

She was a shadow of her illegitimate brother.

He was everything she wasn't.

She was just as smart as her brother.

But no one ever took the chance to bring out her potential.

At this point in time they were both sophomores.

She was 15, almost 16.

He was 16.

He thought age meant superiority.

The school literally revolved around him.

It was lunch time at the moment.

He went to his large group of friends and met his girlfriend Alyssa.

She was horrible to Madelynn.

She was good to him.

They were in love.

Their dislike for Madelynn was mutual.

Why?

She was an absolute no one.

She went to sit under the tree she usually stayed at.

Lunch was when everyone ate.

Eat.

Eating.

She barely ate.

If she didn't do well in school, she was yelled at.

She was afraid of yelling.

She's hide in the attic, her room, and not come down for dinner.

The only reason she was adopted was because the Lacie's (Marcy, Jacques, and Alex) wanted two children.

She would doodle, like she used to.

She was an avid drawer.

Was.

Her art was lost.

Her touch was lost.

She was lost.

Within her mind that is.

She took out her mp3 player and listened to music.

It was one of the few things she could condone.

"My Lack of Skill" by The Early November played.

She loved everything about this song.

The way the piano was played.

Ace Enders' voice.

It felt like the answer to her problems.

Problems.

Problems that would never go away.

She sat under the tree as the cool autumn breeze blew in her hair.

People walked by her.

Ignoring her.

Including her brother.

Foster-brother.

She was invisible.

Invisible.

AN; Sorry if you are expecting perfect paragraphs.

I read a lot of Ellen Hopkins books, they are all free verse.

This is not free verse, but it is not in perfect paragraph form.

Merci beaucoup.