Free Invisible by Pete Hautman Page A

everything is different. As soon as I walk in the door I can feel it. Everybody is looking at me. People who never knew I was alive before are staring at me like I’m a freak. I pretend not to notice. I go straight to my locker and drop off my backpack. People slow down as they walk past, staring at the stitches in my ear. I ignore them.
    When I get to calculus, before I sit down at my desk, Mr. Kesselbaum tells me to report to Principal Janssen. Everyone (including Melissa Haverman) watches me walk out of the classroom. The kid who got beat up. The kid with stitches in his ear.
    In the front office I sit on the bench and wait until the secretary calls me into the principal’s office. Inside, Principal Janssen and Ms. Neidermeyer, the school counselor, are waiting for me, wearing two of the phoniest smiles I’ve ever seen.
    â€œGood morning, Douglas. We’re glad to see you up and around again,” says Principal Janssen. Janssen is big, fat, small featured, and soft voiced. He always wears corduroys, colorful sweaters, and slip-on shoes. His eyes are the color of mud.
    Ms. Neidermeyer is the exact opposite of Principal Janssen: skinny, shrill, wide mouthed, big nosed, sharp chinned, red nailed, and wearing a crisp navy blue outfit.
    â€œHow are you?” she asks. They are the first three words she has ever spoken to me. Why is she acting like we’re old friends?
    â€œHave a seat,” says Principal Janssen.
    I sit in one of the plastic chairs in front of his desk.
    â€œI guess you had a pretty rough week,” he says.
    â€œI got beat up,” I say.
    â€œYes, and you had that little run-in with the police.”
    I shrug. “They thought I was somebody else.”
    Nobody speaks for what seems like five minutes, but it was probably only a few seconds.
    Principal Janssen clears his throat. “Yes, well, I know you’ve been having some problems with some of the other students. …”
    â€œI don’t have a problem. I just want to be left alone.”
    â€œYes, well, ah … we’ve made some, ah, adjustments in your class schedule. …” He looks at Ms. Neidermeyer.
    â€œWe thought it best to change your lunch period,Douglas. We don’t want another incident like last Tuesday.”
    â€œIncident?”
    â€œThe food fight.”
    â€œThat wasn’t me.”
    â€œNevertheless, don’t you think it would be best for you to eat your lunch at a different time than Freddie Perdue and his friends?”
    â€œWhat difference does that make? They’re in jail, aren’t they?”
    Uncomfortable silence ensues.
    Principal Janssen shifts in his chair. “Well … no,” he says.
    â€œHow can they not be in jail?”
    â€œI know you’re upset about what happened—”
    â€œThey tried to kill me!”
    â€œDouglas, please sit down. … Thank you.”
    I am shaking.
    â€œDouglas, we want you to know we believe you. Those kids were up to no good. The police brought them in and talked to them. All three of them denied harming you. I’m afraid it’s a case of your word against theirs.”
    â€œTheirs is wrong.”
    Ms. Neidermeyer reaches out a red-nailed hand and touches my arm. “We know that, Douglas.”
    I shrug away her touch. “It’s not fair.”
    â€œNo, it’s not. But we’re trying to make the best of the situation. We’ve designed a new schedule for you. You’ll be moving to the second lunch period and changing from Mrs. Felko’s afternoon art class to the morning class, and you’ll be in Study Hall C after your lunch period.”
    â€œWhy do I have to change? Why don’t you change their schedules?”
    Principal Janssen says, “It simply was not practical, Douglas.”
    I hug myself to stop the shaking. It doesn’t help.
    â€œThey should all be in jail,” I say. “You should at least kick them out of school.