The crimson hues of the setting sun bled through the cracked windows of Ravenstone High as the day's final bell rang, releasing the sea of restless teenagers into the freedom of the evening.
Susan kept her head down, clutching her battered backpack, weaving through the crowd like a ghost no one wanted to acknowledge. Her shoulder brushed against lockers; her ears caught fragments of laughter and gossip that never included her.
Today was supposed to be different.
Today was the day of the "Sunset Welcome Bash" — a grand event held in the school's open fields, celebrating the new school year with food, games, and performances. A chance for students to show off their talents and charm.
Susan, against her better judgment, had signed up for the poetry reading competition. She had spent sleepless nights crafting her piece — a poem about loneliness, survival, and the quiet ache of being unseen.
Maybe, just maybe, if she stood in front of them and spoke, they would finally notice her — not to mock, not to pity, but to listen.
Maybe.
---
When she arrived at the field, the sight that greeted her sucked the hope right out of her chest.
Colorful tents dotted the grass. Glittering lights hung from trees. Pop music thumped from enormous speakers.
The students of Ravenstone High had transformed the campus into a vibrant kingdom, ruled by its wealthy, beautiful elites.
Jessica Aldridge and her clique were at the center of it all — wearing designer mini-dresses, laughing like they owned the universe.
The football team lounged nearby, tossing a ball lazily between them, drawing stares from adoring underclassmen.
Susan found the sign-up desk.
The coordinator, Mrs. Langley, barely glanced at her before shoving a clipboard into her hand.
"You're on after the dance performance," she muttered, chewing gum loudly. "Don't be late. Or better yet, don't screw up."
Susan's hands shook as she signed her name.
---
Behind the stage, the performers prepared.
The dance team, led by Jessica, were stretching their long, perfect legs and rehearsing last-minute moves. Their coordinated glittery outfits shimmered in the dying sunlight.
Susan wore a plain grey sweater two sizes too big, faded jeans, and worn sneakers.
Her hair hung in limp brown strands around her pale face.
No makeup.
No jewelry.
Nothing but trembling hands and a dream too fragile for a place like this.
Her heart pounded against her ribs so hard it hurt.
"Hey, Carter!"
Jessica's voice sliced through the air.
Susan turned.
Jessica sauntered over, flanked by Tanya and Amanda.
"You really think anyone wants to hear you whine about your pathetic life?" Jessica sneered, flipping her golden hair.
"I—" Susan started, but Jessica was already laughing.
"You'll embarrass yourself. Actually, go ahead. We could use a good laugh tonight."
Tanya snickered. "Break a leg. No, seriously. Fall flat on your face."
They sauntered away, high-fiving each other.
Susan's throat closed up.
Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Not here. Not now.
---
When her name was called, Susan stumbled onto the stage, blinded by the stage lights, deafened by the silence of the crowd.
The microphone loomed before her like a weapon.
She gripped her crumpled paper and began to read.
At first, her voice shook.
Soft. Broken.
A few snickers rippled through the crowd.
Jessica whispered something, and a wave of laughter followed.
Susan forced herself to continue.
The poem spoke of nights spent staring at ceilings, of wishing for a mother's hug that never came, of fighting to stay invisible just to survive another day.
Of pain that had no visible scars but bled just the same.
Her voice grew stronger with every word, rising above the cruelty, trembling but fierce.
For a brief, flickering moment, the crowd quieted.
For a moment, they listened.
Susan's heart soared — maybe she had reached them —
And then, without warning, a water balloon exploded against her chest.
Ice-cold water soaked her sweater and jeans, dripping down her skin.
The laughter was deafening.
Susan froze, her paper crumpling in her fist.
Jessica stood in the front row, smirking, an empty balloon launcher in her hand.
"Oops," she said sweetly.
Susan dropped the paper.
Her vision blurred with tears.
She turned and ran — off the stage, off the field, through the parking lot — as the laughter chased her into the night.
---
Behind the gym, Susan collapsed to the ground, her wet clothes clinging to her like chains.
She buried her face in her knees, sobs racking her small frame.
She didn't notice the figure approaching until a soft voice broke the silence.
"Hey."
She looked up, startled.
It was Jackim.
He knelt down a few feet away, not touching, not crowding her — just being there.
His hoodie was pulled up, his dark hair falling into his eyes.
There was no pity on his face.
Only something gentler.
Something sadder.
Something real.
"You were... good," he said, his voice rough like he wasn't used to saying nice things out loud.
Susan stared at him, confused, raw.
"No one..." she whispered hoarsely, "no one ever says that."
Jackim shrugged. "Maybe they're just too stupid to see it."
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Susan almost smiled.
Almost.
But the night was too heavy.
The scars too deep.
The world too cruel.
And so, she only nodded — a small, broken nod — as the stars above them blinked silently, uncaring.
Two invisible souls sitting alone in a world that had never been kind to either of them.
---