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I wrote this the other day after a brainstorming session with my year 8's (13 year olds) I hope it will allf it in. If the post is too long could a mod let me know and I'll find another way of posting it!

Nothing Special

For most people the fact that they don’t stick out in a crowd is something to be ashamed of. Not me. The very fact that I’m nothing special is what helps me survive. Looking back, perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to be proud of, to excel in but it was what I was good at.

Being invisible is an art that needs to be practiced and I had spent most of my life doing just that. It all started when I was seven and had just started my third year at school. I noticed that if I was quiet, sat in the back row at school and wore my hair long over my face that people began to not remember I was even there.
I don’t even remember why I wanted to be invisible, perhaps I thought it would be fun, or maybe one of the other girls in the class was being mean to me that week. I really don’t remember. All I do remember was that I was so pleased with myself when my mum came into school and the teacher wasn’t sure if my name was Susanne or Kate. Not that my mum cared. It was a small miracle that I’d managed to get her to come at all. It was only that her date for the evening had stood her up and that I mentioned that the new year six teacher was young and male that had caused her to even remember parents evening.

Maybe that’s why I wanted to be invisible. So that when mum’s new boyfriends turned up they wouldn’t notice me. As I said, I don’t really remember.

I do remember the day I met him though. I was halfway through year ten at school. Still sitting in the back row, wearing my hair long and saying nothing. Eight years on and the same techniques still worked famously. It was only that I was forced to work with one of the other girls in the class that any of this even happened.
She was tall and blonde and wore her skirt too short. I didn’t even know her name. Part of the invisible trick is making sure that no one knows who you are. If you know someone’s name chances are they know your name too. She scowled at me as she moved her bag to sit next to me and slumped into the chair. “What?” she snorted at me. I shrugged. She looked around her and then shouted out “Miss! Can’t I sit next to ANYone else?” These last few words were whined like a dog with a lame foot. I sank deeper into my chair. Many would take this as an expression of embarrassment. Not true. Sinking further into the chair makes people think that you are afraid, which in turn will convince teachers that you are worried about working with the person they have asked you to work with. Capitalising on the bullying victim ploy usually works like a dream on most teachers. They’re absolutely petrified of being accused of being insensitive and uncaring. Not this one though. She just shrugged and told the girl to shut up and get on with it.

To cut a long and tedious story short the grouping was a nightmare. I didn’t want to work with her and she didn’t want to work with me. The thing was the teacher wasn’t sure who the problem was. All she knew was that there was nothing being done and that I was part of the pair. She didn’t even know my name. She did however know the other girl’s name. Louise, I think it was. So she hedged her bets and blamed it all on her. Nice one I thought, I was getting out of there without a single problem. No worries. Not.

I was walking home from school when Louise caught up with me. Louise and her friends anyway. They were, shall we say not best pleased with me. The next thing I knew I was pinned up against a wall with some meatloaf of a girl shouting “Do ‘er Lou! She’s got it comin!” I braced myself for the coming pain. Nothing.
“What the hell are you lot up too?”
Still I waited for the impact. Still I felt nothing. Then, I was lowered to the ground. I opened my eyes and saw Louise and her mates pelting it up the road as a guy reached down to help me up off the floor.
“Are you alright?” I nodded.
“Just a bit shaky thanks.” I replied. I tried to walk away but my legs buckled underneath me. He caught me as I began to fall and helped me up again.
“Only a bit?” He smiled. “ Come on. Lets go and find somewhere to sit down until you feel better.” I brushed my hair out of my face and smiled back.

We walked, or should I say he walked whilst I leant on him, back towards the bakery across from the school. It was gone five now and any students were long gone from the windows. The owner was a surly old man who scared most kids out of the shop, but not enough to keep them from staring through his windows.
As we walked in the door he glared at me but, seeing my rescuer he stopped and nodded before turning to fill a small teapot with a couple of pyramid bags and some hot water. He bought the pot over to us as we sat in the corner and poured us each a cup. I looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you.” He turned to the young man who had helped me into the shop and nodded again before returning to the kitchen.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better thanks.” He smiled at me and I looked deep into my teacup. “It was nice of him to bring us a cup of tea. Do you know him?”
“He’s a friend of my dad’s. Known him for years”. He replied with an ease that I would always remember. No hesitancy, no confusion, just straightforward eloquency that could only come from a private school education.
It was then that I noticed that he was a bit older than me. At least seventeen if not older. No school uniform, just simple, unremarkable jeans and a sweatshirt. He noticed me looking at his clothes and smirked at me. Again I looked deep into my cup. “Hey.” He said. “No need to be scared of me. I’m the good guy remember?” I looked up for a split second and caught his gaze. In that instant I knew that I could tell him anything. I could talk to this person and he would listen without ever telling anyone. I began with a short question about his name and age. His name was Adam and I was right. He was seventeen and attending the sixth form at my school. When he asked me about my life I didn’t hesitate. I told him everything. My name, my parents, everything. I don’t know why I just knew that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone about this. I could trust him.

The time passed so fast. One minute we were sitting in the shop drinking tea, the next it was dark outside and the tea was cold in the pot. I was surprised that the owner hadn’t kicked us out by now but he was now sweeping up around the chair and tables. “ I’d better go now.” I stammered. Adam smiled at me.
“Can I walk you home?” I nodded and felt a warm glow spreading up my cheeks. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. He was intelligent, funny, brave, good looking. He may as well have been an angel as far as I was concerned. What on earth did he want with me?

He took my hand and led me out of the shop. I waved to the owner and pushed my hair back behind my ear again.

It was cold outside. The air in front of my mouth turned misty as I breathed. The sky was clear and I could hear the trains moving through the station around the corner. As we walked he pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I looked up into his eyes and smiled. As we walked we carried on talking. I didn’t even notice when we turned into an alleyway. I did notice though when the streetlights disappeared though. “Where are-?“ Everything went black.
The next thing I remember was the noise. A slow mumbling sound that at first sounded like a tube train going past but eventually revealed itself to be the sound of voices chanting in a monotonous, low tone. I tried to move but found my arms and legs bound to what I could only assume was a chair. That’s what it felt like anyway. My mouth tasted of antiseptic and I could feel cotton wool on my lips. I was bound and gagged in a strange place that smelt of gone off milk and cheese.
Ooooh, it's really good!

Is that the end or will there be more?

More should be coming. I just wasn't sure whether it was worth continuing or not
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