In a lowly ranked society brought to you by no other than the Populars, the Nobodies, like me, ought to start a riot, right? To prove our worth? And that's exactly what I did, at least, until I woke up and remembered just how sucky high school really is.

Sure you have the endless hours and shouts of parties happening in literally every block in the neighborhood, and if you're not cool enough but you're having a party, oh look at that, another one is being thrown same day, same time.

People keep making up different words to call people what they deem to believe them as, such as "fake," "slut," "whore," you name it. As if our society isn't already horrible, we find the desire to create racial problems which add to the pile of 'things wrong with our generation.'

Fortunately, that is not what I'm called. I've been granted the title "Invisible," well, I assume this considering that's what I am to my fellow classmates at school. Its almost as if I'm just so pestering to everyone that they all signed a silent contract to ignore my being. I might as well be a bug because maybe if I magically transform into these unwanted life forms, I may get more respect to roam around with half the kids I grew up with.

"Autumn," Calls Ms. Sunie, who looks like she could use a break from all the kids with pimples as big as the sun, thighs either as wide as the ocean or skinny as a blade of grass, hair that's natural or full out fake, personalities as bright and bubbly as the glare Kylie Everson shoots me, or dark and shady as the night; otherwise known as your average teenager.

"Yes, Ms. Sunie?" I ask, my eyes drooping with sleep I failed to conceive last night.

"Were you not paying attention at all to what I was lecturing about?" I'm about to speak when she cuts me off. Typical. "Because if you have you would've known I had called your name a total  of four times in order to grab your averted attention, and-"

I cut her off with a loud yawn. Geez for a lady who's last name is "Sunie," she's certainly far from that. "Actually, you called my name a total of two times"- I hold up two fingers- "nice counting by the way, but I'm sorry did you get a degree in math or are you teaching the wrong class? Because if that's the case, I hate to break it to you, you've been teaching at the wrong class for a little over 5 years and 4 months. This is English Literature." I pause, bringing my right arm to hold my head up as my elbow rests on my desk, for the time being anyway.

Snickers and giggles arise from all across the room. The kids in my class are used to my "opinionated self," so the second I snap back, they know they're in for a mini play starring yours truly. Usually, they take about 20 minutes off class, but this one's leaning towards 5 because of how idiotic it is. What lucky losers. Although, I can't say the same for Ms. Sunie. Her pale complexion mirrors the color of a bright  red sunburn. She doesn't bother to hide the disgust pulling at the corners of her lip.

 Ms. Sunie opens her mouth to object but I beat her to it, clearing my throat and continuing. "And if you were wondering, yes, I do know math and I do know the answer. It's Shakespeare- everyone knows that, even James Loine who's not even paying attention to this very same lecture." I pout and shake my head. Everyone turns to see I'm right and laugh louder. "Shame, Ms. Sunie. Picking on me and me only again? Just because I may be the current highlight of your world, forgive me if this sounds too obnoxious, doesnt give you the right to blame me for your class's lack of participation. If you ask me or anyone else-- but maybe just me because everyone else would totally say opposite-- I'm basically the only one listening to your wordy lectures, boring and all."

By now Ms. Sunie is fuming the color of lava, and admittedly, I'm starting to feel concerned for her tiny body and the current capacity of anger that's being stored in it. Everyone within a 20 mile radius is sure to be in trouble.

"Ms. Bernardez," Ms. Sunie spats, glaring at me. "That is enough, I will not have you insult-"

"Now you know how it feels, do you like it?" I pretend for a moment that I'm speaking to everyone who has ever treated me bad. "Well news flash, if it's anything I have learned over the years is that if you do something, be prepared for it to be done back to you. Karma is a real-"

"Enough! You are extremely disruptive today-"

"I can see that."

"- and this act of yours is growing old-"

"Like your age," I say with a wink.

"-just like that snotty, witty personality you have. You better get your act together by the time you must enroll for a college because they surely wouldn't want to have the likes of you representing their school," Ms. Sunie spits out, smiling her hideous smile that I believe means 'I am better than you.' "Excuse yourself from class and walk yourself to the principal's office."

"Fine," I sigh, smiling. "But not without a grand exit. You're welcome for the 20 minute delay, class filled with students who don't ever acknowledge me, and to you, Ms. Sunie, who I forgot I have nothing to say to. See you tomorrow," I reply with a wave as I walk out the door and head to the principal's office.

The last thing I heard before I walked out if class, was a murmur from a voice I could recognize within a second. Jace Hemington, the school's star quarterback's voice saying, wow what a chick.

I couldn't help but find myself smiling as I entered the Principal's office. Sure this may be the first time he actually endorsed my presence, but it still feels good. As ridiculous as that is, anyways.

Our Principal, Mr. Nichols, mistakes my happiness for the outburst that happened in class and automatically shoots me a disapproving look.

"Sorry, Sir," I recite. We've been through this scene far more times than Ms. Sunie has picked on me, which is what, over 10 and it's barely 3 months into the school year. I sigh. "This isn't something new so I'm sure you're familiar with the monoscript you expect me to countlessly recite, but I hope you know that I don't speak out for popularity or to be rude and obnoxious," He looks at me, awaiting for me to continue because this is a far different encounter for apologies.

"I just want others--but specifically Ms. Sunie herself--to know that not everyone goes down without a fight and that she can't embarrass us the way she does because she feels inferior to the title she holds as being a teacher which may I say, isn't much. Well, inside of school it's raised up a notch, but again, not that much."

"Autumn," Mr. Nichols says sternly, telling me to get back on track.

"But in all honesty, she really does love to throw a spotlight over me with the goal to embarrass me, but obviously we know that's not going to happen so it backfires in her face with the effect of making her turn red like an apple, only not as delicious or appealing.

Mr. Nichols cracks a smile. "Why an apple?"

"Because saying 'as red as a tomato' is way to cliché and saying 'an apple' is much more original. If you ask me, it gives it a personal shine, like a Golden Delicious apple."

Mr. Nichols gives a hearty laugh. "Ms. Bernardez, you certainly have quite the most insightful mind at this school."  

By now, I know I'm no longer in trouble and laugh along with him. "Well, I try to keep things unique."

"That you do."

"Am I free to go?" This supposed to be scolding session has ended much faster than usual, so if he lets me off the hook now, I'll have approximately half an hour left of class and for some odd reason, that doesn't seem very engaging.

"I rather you not. Storming up another dispute twice in one day wouldn't be wise. Besides, I'll give you detention right now so I don't need to pass by the detention class to see you in there once more."

Ouch.

"Great. Thanks, Mr. Nichols," I reply with a smile.

"Of course, Ms. Bernardez, but don't think you're fully off the hook," Mr. Nichols says, pushing his glasses up.

Uh oh.

"From the looks of your grades, you are exceeding in mathematics, trigonometry specifically, and I know a student who could use your help greatly," He pauses, glancing at me expectedly, hoping I get the gist but I don't. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "As in you serving as a tutor?" He clarifies.

"Oh," I say stupidly. I'm about to tell him that his plan will do until I realize it might cross with my schedule. "Um, when exactly does this failing student expect to be tutored?"

He furrow his brows and reaches for his travel coffee mug. "Mondays to Thursdays. I hope this doesn't collide with your busy schedule because I know you babysit and do other errands."

I visualize my schedule in my head and scan through the days and times. Nothing before 3 and after 8.

As if reading my mind, Mr. Nichols pulls out a calender with the student's time and dates and hands it to me. "You'll need to head to this student's home at 5 and end sessions at 7:30, given that that's enough time of course."

"This should be fine," I reply nervously. My eyes flutter over the calender.This won't be the first person I have tutored before, but I'm only nervous because I have no idea who it is.

"His name is Xernex Decker, a student who'll be starting his first day next Monday."

My heart does a flip while my stomach follows but does it in the opposite direction. Wow even my body parts aren't coordinated, how unnerving. For some reason, I'm slightly disappointed it isn't Jace Hemington, but I push down the unwelcome feeling. I await for Mr. Nichols to ask the question I'm sure this is widely revolving, but he doesn't so I do instead.

"So, you expect me to show him around school?"

"Correct. That'd be appreciated greatly. But make sure to focus on his grades in trig because his grade is far too low. If it's more convenient, I could have it so his classes are close to identical to yours," He suggests, taking a sip from his coffee.

"No that won't be necessary, but maybe two or three classes at the most would seem more appropriate," No need to get people thinking obsurd things about new kids stalking Nobodies.

"Excellent."

The bell rings, signaling second period.

"Okay, well, thank you, Mr. Nichols," I thank him once again before leaving his office.

As of next week, I'm basically forced to be friends with the new kid, not that I'm arguing. 

I try to figure out why i had reacted to the boy's name. It had sounded familiar but I can't figure out why or how.

I rack my head thoughtfully as I walk into Chemistry.

Just as I pull out my homework from the previous night, a note falls out from one of the page fold. A note from Mom.

That's when it hits me, how this is so much more semi-convenient and a mix of unfortune.

This new kid was going to be my new neighbor.