When I have a believable lie to give to mom, I run off after school to the abandoned buildings outside of town. The bus ride is short, often people stare at me oddly when I get off, likely thinking I'm some drugged up teen but I much rather they think that than know what I'm really doing.

It's sort of an experiment that I'm conducting, one about myself. I test myself, what I can do, for hours and hours until I feel I may just pass out (or actually pass out).

Mom never seemed to care about what she could do like I did, or anyone else for that matter. When I asked her if she ever tried passing through a person or a moving object, she always gave me this look, like she wondered why I asked. I don't get how she isn't curious because I want to know everything.

What can she do? What can I do? What is the extent of our powers? Is there more to them than meets the eye? Why does no one seem to care? Come on, we're like something out of a comic! How can they not be curious? I've never understood.

The first time I disappeared was when I was a baby, or so mom said. She claimed she freaked for about thirty seconds before I reappeared in my crib and, after that, I sort of went on and off like a flickering light for days. Good thing dad was no longer around. I bet he would have went ballistic, mom would have had a fun time explaining that to him.

It's funny to think about but, as I got older, as I learned to control it I started to wonder, what can I do? How long can I stay invisible, how long can I keep other things unseen? What can I hide? Can I move these objects or do they have to be stationary? Can I make water disappear? What about a lit match? All these are questions that I've been trying to learn and, even if they don't work, can I practice it until it does?

The biggest object I have made disappear is a car. It took me days to finally learn and, even then, I blacked out after about 10 seconds. The strain was so much that my head was pounding for days and I couldn't even vanish myself let alone other objects. I haven't tried it again but I have discovered another new trick.

It's not much, not yet anyways, but as I sit on the concrete with my concentration focused purely on the empty water bottle before me, it disappears without my need to touch it. The moment I chuckle with delight it reappears and I'm left groaning at how easy it is for my concentration to just break.

Whatever, it's a start. Normally I have to be touching the object to turn it invisible so the fact that I can do something like this for a second is already awesome. If mom found out what I've been doing she would probably strangle me but, what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I do this for hours, simply trying to push myself as hard as I can. Some nights I leave feeling impressed, others I'm just sad. It's not like I can share these achievements with anyone. I wish I could tell mom. I wish I could tell someone but all these small successes building up have to be kept to myself. It sucks.

And, once again, I return home with probably more secrets than when I left.

"Welcome home, sweetie," mom shouts from the kitchen, appearing before me with a spot of flour on her cheek (that she seems to not know is there) and an apron covered in who knows what. "How was school? Have any fun?"

"Loads, Gary Mills forgot what tissues were for and was picking his nose in class. It was fascinating how far he stuck his finger up there."

Mom does not find me amusing. Pity. I think I'm loads of fun.

"I hope you and Harry weren't picking your noses this evening," mom grumbles, seeming displeased with my lack of a real response.

Harry is this annoying kid I tutor from time to time or, at least, I used to. Honestly, he hasn't asked for my help in months but he makes for a good excuse to run off and practice. When his mom spoke to my mom about the tutoring I thought of the pro's and con's to murder (murdering Harry, of course) but I got paid for the gig so it was kind of worth it.

"Nah, we were watching porn, typical teenager stuff."

Mom pinches the bridge of her nose. I hear her asking where I got my attitude from but we both know it's from her. There's not really anyone else in this house I could have got it from.

"Oh, right!" I swear there's an actual light bulb above moms head. "Micah, hurry and clean up! I invited the Halton's over for dinner!"

"Why?" I glance to the clock, finding that it's a quarter past eight. "And isn't it a little late for dinner?"

"Go, go, they'll be here in about twenty minutes!" She's pushing me off the couch before I can respond. I'm not sure what I'm meant to clean up, my clothes perhaps? I'm not changing into a damn suit or something because the neighbors are coming over if that's what she's thinking.

After putting on a nicer shirt, some button down that I rarely wear, and 15 or so minutes pass, I hear the front door open. I recognize Mrs. Halton's voice followed by Leo's then his dad's. I roll my eyes.

Great, small talk and uncomfortable discussions, my absolute favorite.

It's not like I don't like the Halton's. I dislike everyone equally but, sometimes mom likes to invite people over just because. There's no reason other than company and I do not share the same enthusiasm. It probably has to do with the lack of time she spent around others when I was little. Since I couldn't quite control myself back then, she couldn't risk taking me outside.

I, on the other hand, learned to enjoy the peace that came with silence. Sometimes I wonder if my gift somehow stemmed off my personality before it was even formed. I was given invisibility because I'm good at being invisible? It's an interesting thought.

Walking down the steps, I find Leo and his parents are already in the kitchen. Mom is waving for me to come in, which I do and give a soft hello to the familiar faces. As usual, Leo gives me his signature beaming smile. Mom always complains about how the two of us aren't close, especially since we live right next door.

"But he's so sweet," she always says to me, like Leo isn't sweet to every single person he meets. That's just how he is. We're not special because he smiles at us or acts all prim and proper. He is prim and proper, that's all there is to it.

"Leo, tell me, how's soccer going? After winning Nationals last year, I bet you've all been busy," mom says quickly after dinner begins. I'm munching on my food silently, pretending I don't exist.

"Coach has been hounding us even worse than usual, says he doesn't want us getting cocky."

"Ah, that's what happens sometimes," Mr. Halton says with a nod. He gestures to Leo, his smile mirroring his son's, obvious where Leo got it from. "Some people think they don't have to try as hard after they've obtained sometimes. Coach Markin knows what he's doing."

And I tune out the rest of the conversation real quick. I don't play sports nor do I understand...any of them. Teamwork, sweat, activity, something to do with balls and scoring points, never been my strong suit. I'm more of a video games in the dark corner of my room kind of guy, which is exactly what I excuse myself to do after finishing my food.

The Halton's will be here for a while longer. Mom typically speaks with them about who knows what for, at least, an hour. Normally, Leo remains downstairs with them but when I try to make my escape, he asks, "Mind if I join you?"

I stare into a pair of deep blue eyes that immediately cause me discomfort. I'm tempted to say no, simply because I know there is nothing in my room Leo would find enjoyable. Sadly, mother has heard and she is quick to reply for me, "Of course you can, Leo! Why don't the two of you play some games or something? I'm sure Micah has something upstairs that you two can do."

I'm going to kill her.

Leo beams at me like a lighthouse on a stormy night. It physically hurts.

Waving my hand, I give in and allow Leo to follow me up the stairs. We're silent until I reach my room, where I clear my throat and ask, "Is there a reason you wanted to come upstairs? Normally you stay downstairs to talk."

Leo seems shocked that I so openly asked. I'm not sure why I wouldn't since, like I said, he typically would stay downstairs. The first thing that comes to mind is, perhaps, he fought with his parents? I don't know what about since his parents are nothing but proud of him. I bet he could shit and they would call it gold.

"Just thought we could hang out since...we never really do," Leo responds like that's somehow an answer. Is it weird that we don't hang out? Apparently mom and Leo think so while I don't see why we would.

He's an avid sportsman. I'm an avid gamer. He's Mr. Popular and I'm Mr. Invisible. We may go to the same school but we have a different circle of friends, different interests. Why would we hang out? Simply because we're neighbors? Yeah, I'm neighbors with that old batshit crazy lady next door with a million cats but we sure as hell ain't friends.

My expression of confusion ,or disgust, I don't know I can't see myself, must be more obvious than I thought because it causes Leo to frown, a look that, honestly, does not suit him. "If it bothers you that much, I can go back downstairs."

"Not that it bothers me. It's just weird."

Leo snorts. "You certainly don't hold back, do you?"

I shrug and head over to my TV so I can start digging through the games. I'm not sure what he wants to play, what he might be into other than soccer. I think he played basketball back in the day? I don't have any games like that though so I'm left sitting here scratching my head.

"What games do you normally play?" I ask, looking back to find Leo sitting in one of the beanbags on my floor. It's a little strange to find him sitting so relaxed. Every time I see him his head is held high, back straight and shoulders broad that I almost don't recognize him sitting like one of us normals.

I think that like I'm normal. Funny.

"You can put whatever you want in. I don't mind watching," Leo answers with a shrug. "Seems you have a lot of games, what's your favorite?"

"Are we playing twenty questions or something?"

"If you want."

"I don't."

I slip God of War in because I've already beaten it and, with Leo around, I don't want to play something I have to focus on. Standing up, I head over to sit in the beanbag chair next to Leo, who doesn't seem to know how to respond to my quick conversation ender. I really didn't mean to, it's just...I honestly don't want to sit around asking what our favorite colors are. I'm still confused as to why Leo is up here with me. He's going to be bored, sitting here watching me play a game that he probably isn't interested in. It makes me feel guilty, like I'm supposed to entertain him somehow.

"Congratulations, by the way," I blurt out in hopes to cut through the suddenly freezing atmosphere between us.

Leo jerks his head up to stare at me in confusion.

"Nationals." It was some time ago but I never "properly" congratulated him.

For whatever reason, Leo smiles, showing off the deep dimples in his cheeks that I never really noticed he had before. We've never really been this close and I'm starting to notice there is a small hint of brown in his short blonde hair.

"Thanks!" Leo chirps, elbowing me playfully but he either doesn't realize his own strength or I'm that much of a weakling because I nearly topple out of my chair. Leo grabs my arm, quickly holding me in place before I brush him off. He laughs. "You should come to a game sometime."

"A game?"

"Well, practice. We're having some practice games to keep us in shape or whatever. You should come watch them sometime."

"I don't know dick about soccer or sports." I'm not even sure why he wants me to come anyways.

"You don't have to in order to watch," Leo says, nodding as if that'll somehow prove his point. "It's always funny to watch someone get kicked between the legs, as long as it isn't you."

I roll my eyes but feel my lips twitch back into a smile. "I'll think about it."

"Cool." Leo hums, burying himself into his chair. "Cool."

And, honestly, we're pretty quiet afterwards. From time to time Leo comments and I'm surprised to learn he has played all the God of War games, including this one. It makes me feel less guilty about putting it in because, somehow, it seems we do have something in common. That's nice to know, I guess? I'm not really sure.

Nearly two hours later, my mom comes up to announce that Leo's parents left an hour ago but didn't want to bother us since we seemed to be having fun. At least they assumed that since neither of us have bothered them, I'm guessing. Leo says a quick goodbye, looking at me before he leaves in order to ask, "You'll really think about coming to watch a game, right?"

I'm surprised he has brought it up again. It's an odd request and, honestly, I thought it was a joke that he would forget about in a second. However, that doesn't seem to be the case so, with a nod, I answer, "Yeah, I'll think about it."

"Cool, cool," he says again, nodding while backing up towards the door. I chuckle when he stumbles over the door frame, nearly face planting but catching himself on the door. Those sportsman reflexes are coming in handy, it seems.

Leo doesn't look at me when he says another goodbye then bolts down the stairs and out the front door. I don't even have time to answer him, my hand waving in the air at, basically, the dust kicked up from the floor due to his movements.

Well, this has been a weird evening, hasn't it?

I shrug it off and return to my game, considering Leo's request for all of a second before deciding no way in hell. I won't know anyone there. It'll be boring. Why does he even want me to go? It's weird and I'm not going.