Have you ever wondered what it was like to go blind? Not see anything again for the entirety of the rest of your life? Don't. It's awful. Being blind is really awful. And it's not like I can remember seeing anything, my parents, my preschool friends, not even what I looked like. Colors blurred in my memory, and I couldn't even remember what it was like to see the color 'green', my supposed favorite color.

So everything was a blur, etched into my mind and fading away as everyday passed and I couldn't see. And it was all due to the stupid retinoblastoma. Nothing the doctors did would make the tumor shrink, and eventually, I never ended up seeing anything ever again. Of course, I was only four when that happened, and I had gotten used to the pitch 'black' by now. But I still remained jealous of all the other things that normal 17 year old girls could see.

And to make it worse, the countless begs to optomatrists to grant me sight again always failed. They refused, saying that it could go horribly wrong, but honestly, what could go wrong if I already was legally blind.

But something good had finally happened in my sorrowful life; I found a school. With a great disabled student system. Not saying that I was disabled, but that's what my life had amounted to when you added it all up. Haverfield Charter High School was only five minutes away from where I currently lived with my mom and dad, making it easy for them to transport me to school.

I struggled to dress myself into my first day of school outfit, getting stuck in the 'blue' sweater that my mom had picked out for me to wear today.

"MOOOM!" I bellowed, to the lower level of the house, hoping that she would hear me. She evidently did, rushing into my bedroom and assisting me in pulling the warm sweater over my head. I thanked her and let her return to packing my school lunch. Yeah I know, I'm 17. I should be packing my own lunch, but when you can't see where the knife is landing when you cut up fruit, you can't be trusted in the kitchen.

I finished dressing, hoping that all my clothes were lain on my body in the correct order. Hobbling down the stairs, I found my backpack and slowly found the car. I didn't bother using a cane to feel my surroundings, I could figure things out fine on my own.

I assumed that we had arrived at the school by the 5 minutes had gone by since mom entered the car, due to the screaming kids that pumelled my sensitive eardrums from outside the vehicle. I cautiously exited the car, already tripping over at least 4 unsuspecting students in my wide wake.

I knew I walked with a slow gate, but compared to all the pounding vibrations that flowed up through my feet and the chilly wind that whipped my 'brown' hair from my face, I was moving at sloth speed. I tried to pick up my pace, but I guess it didn't work, because I soon felt the dirty high school floor against my now bruised face. I tried to push myself off of the floor, but a clammy hand grabbed my arm and helped me up, pulling me out of the way of the oncoming mob of freshmen.

"Are you okay?" a petite voice questioned, still holding me by the bicep.

"Yeah," I replied, wiping the grimy dust off of my new sweater, "I'm good."

"I saw that you fell, and I immediately had to save you from the freshmen. My history teacher compares freshmen to blood clots." the feminine voice said, a smile showing through in the tone. "My name's Alana Jacob, by the way. I'm a junior."

"Oh, I'm Miller Bloom. I'm a senior." I replied, trying to smile and then remembering that I couldn't see where she was.

"Cool! Are you new here? I've never seen you in this school before, and I would know if I had. After all, I am the reporter and writer for the daily school newpaper, the Stylus."

"Yeah, actually, I am. I used to go to a public school, but my parents found that they have a great program for disabled students here, so I applied." I stated as I blew a hanging piece of hair out of my face.

"Do you have a disabled sibling or something?"

"No... actually. It's for me. I-I'm blind." I stuttered. My head dropped to the floor when she didn't respond for a long silent moment.

"Oh... do you need any help around the school?" she said politely. I could tell that she didn't know what to say. I let out a heavy sigh, anticipating the loss of a possible chance at a friend.

"Er... no. But thanks. I think I'm fine on my own. As long as no more freshmen run me over!" I laughed. She giggled and grabbed my hand.

I felt myself being dragged down the hallway and into a windy sort of enclosed hallway. The hand let go of mine. I felt around for a wall, finally finding my hands to be pressed against a smooth brick wall, probably painted over with a layer of laquer. I turned back around, feeling for pockets and placing my hands into them when Alana had started talking again.

"Sorry for that." she started. "There was a group of football players headed towards us, and I didn't really feel like being run over."

"I completely empathize." I smiled.

"Okay, well, I have to go to my first period class. But if you want to sit with me at lunch, feel free. I'm sure my friends wouldn't mind lending a spot at the table." she replied, hurrying up the stairs after I waved in what I assumed was her general direction.

I walked back into the crowded high school hallway, already being bombarded by all the kids that were rushing to get to first period. I felt along the signs on the classroom doors, fluently reading the braille that told what room number each was. By the time the bell rang, all the scurrying students had successfully found their classrooms- except for me of course. I knew that I was the last one left in the hallway, so my rushing hands finally came upon the right classroom.

Knowing I was late, I quickly walked into the classroom, tightly gripping my notebook underneath my arm. I couldn't see them, but I knew that 21 pairs of eyes were laid upon me as I stood awkwardly at the head of the classroom.

"Excuse me, miss. What is your name?" a rude an impatient voice came, who I hoped was the teacher.

"Miller Bloom." I almost whispered. The class went quiet for a moment.

"I would usually deem it as unexceptable for a student to be late to class. You would normally get a detention." Oh no. I could not get detention on the first day! "But I understand why you were late. Would you like any help finding your seat?"

I would normally say no, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to find it without awkwardly touching at least ten people. So I instead nodded my head. A warm hand gripped around my shoulder, nudging me to my desk. I slowly followed the guiding hand and took a seat after it was carefully pulled out for me.

The teacher, Mrs. Bradock, dismissed us to working on the first lab of the year, after introducing ourselves of course. She called out attendance with a raspy voice, scratching us off the list in the order that we were seated. My name was called and I replied with a quite "here." After me came another name, "Bayley Wicker." At first, there was no response, so Mrs. Bradock said his name again. A deep "here" bellowed at the volume of a mouse.

The class was chemistry, so I knew that I had a lab partner. I just didn't know who. I turned to the seat next to me, hoping that A, I was facing towards the right person, and B, I was acutally making eye contact, since I couldn't see what I was looking at.

"So I guess we have to start the lab." I started, staring at what I thought was my new lab partner. I was evidently wrong.

I could suddenly feel two fingers grasping my chin and tugging my face to look in another direction. My neck gave in and tucked in a bit as the warm fingers let go of my sensitive skin. I sucked in a sharp breath, holding it for a second until the fingers let go.

"You were looking at Nathan Stern's butt." said Bayley, my new lab partner.

"Um... okay... Let's just do the lab and get this over with." I stuttered.

"Your welcome." he stated rudely.

I didn't respond. I didn't even know who this guy was and he had already touched me and tried being dominant. And because I couldn't see him, there was no way that this could be avoided.

I reached a hand out for what I thought was a beaker of water, but another hand, much larger than mine, pushed mine away and shoved it into the desk.

"What did you do that for?" I questioned. I was growing increasingly impatient, and if this guy kept agitating me, I was going to lose it.

"You were about to stick your hand in the ammonia." he stated, a brooding, deep voice playing nonchalantly against his ego.

"Oh..." I muttered, realizing that I could have burned my hand off if he hadn't stopped me. "Thanks..." I said awkwardly. I heard him jostling around lab tools, then jumped as one was placed in my hand. My hands did their job, grappling at the tool until I figured out that it was a pipette.

"I would offer to do the lab, but I don't really know what I'm touching so..." I uttered. I placed the pipette back down on the table, feeling so helpless, like I couldn't do anything. And I obviously couldn't write down the results of the lab, since I couldn't write or read anything that wasn't brail.

"Yeah I figured that." he replied. He sounded almost distgusted with me. I held my tongue and slumped in my chair.

The bell rang five minutes later, and Bayley had barely cleaned up the lab by the time that class was dismissed. I scrambled to gather my things, my skilled hands accidentally brushing Bayley's a few times. I could tell that he wasn't that fond of me already, but not by his facial expression, since I couldn't see it. I had learned to read silence, and judging by the amount of time that had gone by between our few exchanged words, he really didn't like me. Not that I liked him that much either.