2

My first thought is not so much a thought as a word that begins with f.

My second thought is: How am I supposed to hand in my Chinese essay like this?

I’m starting to understand what Mama meant about needing to seriously reevaluate my priorities.

As I stare at the empty space in the glass—the space where I’m supposed to be—a thousand questions and possibilities stir up a frenzy inside my mind like the wild, flapping wings of startled birds, all force and no direction. It must be a dream, I tell myself. But even as I repeat the words again and again, I don’t believe it. My dreams are never this vivid; I can still smell the cooked spices and coconut curry from the school cafeteria, feel the cool, smooth fabric of my skirt against my thigh, the ends of my ponytail tickling my sweat-coated neck.

I push myself shakily off the ground. My knees sting like hell and I’m dimly aware of the small blood droplets oozing from my palms, but it’s the last of my worries at the moment. I try to breathe, to calm myself down.

It doesn’t work. There’s a faint buzzing sound in my ears and my breaths come out in quick and shallow puffs.

And through the cloud of panic, annoyance spikes inside me. I really don’t have time to be hyperventilating.

What I need are answers.

No, even better, what I need is another list. A clear course of action, like:

One, figure out why the hell I can’t see my own reflection like some kind of vampire in an early 2000s movie.

Two, rearrange afternoon homework plans depending on results.

Three...

As I rummage my brain for a third point, it occurs to me that I might just be hallucinating, that maybe this is some early onset psychological condition—it would also explain the strange cold spell earlier—and I should probably go to the school nurse’s office.

But on my way there, the sense of wrongness digs deeper into my bones. More students bump into me, their gazes gliding over my face like I’m not even there. After the fifth kid steps on my foot and reacts only by sending the ground a quizzical look, a bizarre, terrible thought enters my head.

Just to test it, I run up to the closest student in my line of view and wave a hand in front of his face.

Nothing.

Not even a blink.

My heart pounds so hard I think it might fly out of my ribcage.

I wave my hand again, hoping against hope that I’m somehow wrong about all of this, but he just stares straight ahead.

Which means either the whole school has banded together and manipulated every surface on campus to play the most elaborate prank of all time or—

Or I’m invisible.

This is a slightly bigger inconvenience than I’d imagined.

I twist out of the student’s path before he can knock me over and move to stand in the shelter of a nearby oak tree, my mind reeling. There’s no point going to the nurse now if they can’t even see me. But maybe—surely—someone else can help. Someone who’ll believe me, come up with a solution, and if not, then at least comfort me. Tell me everything’s going to be okay.