Invisible [Michael Clifford]

03.

Chapter Three.

The cafeteria is overcrowded, and Michael can barely hear himself think as he stands by the doors; trying to locate a table that is empty enough for him to sit down, without being disturbed. There's an empty table at the back of the room; he presumes it's empty because it's not exactly convenient to get to, but Michael doesn't mind; as long as he can be alone.

He doesn't move straight away, instead he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his spotify playlist before stopping at brain stew by Green Day. He hits play before making his way over to the table, placing his bag down on top of it before taking a seat.

Michael rummages through his bag before retrieving the book he had recently started reading. He had bought it from a thrift store whilst out with his mother a couple of months ago, but hadn't gotten around to reading it; it was about space, and aliens.

People thought he was weird because of his fascination with aliens, and the supernatural; along with his belief in conspiracy theories, but they didn't really see things the way he did. He didn't like these things because he was confident in their reality - although he was pretty confident about the existence of aliens - he liked these things because he couldn't be confident in whether they were true or not.

He opens the pasta his mother had given him and sets it aside whilst he opens his book. Michael loves pasta, but he knows he probably won't eat it; or at least, not whilst he's at school.

So, instead of spending his lunch eating like everybody else; he spends his lunch reading his book, flicking through the pages of an alternate reality, where he can spends hours upon hours questioning the existence of other beings and creatures.

His reading is, however, cut short when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, and finds himself almost dropping his book; he wasn't really expecting anybody to look at him, let alone approach him.

He can feel his heart drop out of his chest and plummet to the depths of his stomach as he stares across at the dark haired girl.

Michael isn't sure how long she was stood there for, but he's pretty sure he kept her waiting for long enough.

Elsie's watching him with an eyebrow raised; she looks annoyed, and he hopes - and maybe even prays a little - that, that's just how her face looks.

For his own sake, he prays that she has a nasty resting bitch face, or else he's confident his life is over because Elsie Ambrose is the last person he - or anybody else - wants to make an enemy out of.

The girl motions to the earphones which Michael has failed to remove, provoking him to yank them out a little too aggressively. He collects them in the palm of his hand before dropping them onto the table.

His face is burning, and he's pretty sure his pale complexion is now a blazing red colour; but she doesn't seem fazed. She doesn't laugh nor taunt him, she just stares; and that alone is more unsettling than anything he could have imagined.

"I wanted to say sorry, for your friends death," she finally speaks, and Michael can't deny that he's shocked, "I know apologising doesn't do anything to help the situation, but I want you to know that everything's gonna be okay."

Michael is thankful, but shocked nonetheless. He can feel eyes burning into his body, and when he takes a glance around; it looks - and feels - as though the entire room is watching him.

Across the room, her friends sit at a table of their own; their isn't enough seats for them, but they, somehow, make it work. They're all watching the two of them; Michael thinks for a moment that maybe she's talking to him as a joke; that she's bringing up his best friend's death with the intention to mock and taunt him.

Except, the sincerity in her voice states otherwise. It doesn't feel like a simple sorry for your loss; it feels far more genuine than that. That kind of sincerity can not be faked.

"Thank you."

Michael curses himself the moment the two words fall from his lips, because - unlike her - he didn't sound sincere at all. He sounded monotone; like he didn't truly care nor believe what she was saying, and perhaps he didn't.

She maintains eye contact with a cold stare that seems to last for minutes - although it barely lasts a couple of seconds - before giving him a small smile; a real smile.

It's the first time he's seen her smile, in a long time. Apparently her cold bitch exterior doesn't leave room for any smiling.

"I hope things get better," she pauses for a moment before shaking her head, "things will get better."

Elsie leaves after that, but there's something that sticks in Michael's mind long after she has left. He can't stop thinking about the way she looked after telling him that everything will get better.

She looked like she didn't quite believe what she was saying to be true; almost as though she wasn't really sure if things would get better.

Michael sees her again in their history lesson; it's the first time she's bothered to turn up in a long time.

He tries not to judge, but sometimes he can't help it. Elsie very rarely turns up, yet she's got the highest grade in the class and he suspects that she's cheated her way to the grade.

She sits alone at the back of the room, which Michael finds to be rather strange; as a handful of her friends are littered around the room.

Usually, she sits with at least one of them; but today she isn't. It seems as though she has intentionally set herself away from them.

Michael debates sitting with her for a moment, but settles with sitting alone. He doesn't want to overstep the mark.

They're not friends, and they never will be. Just because she acknowledged him once means nothing, and he knows he'll do well to remember that. But, he can't help but feel as though there's something he's missing.

He feels like there's something about Elsie he needs to know, but he has to remind himself that she isn't any of his business; and it would be rude of him to pry.