Invisible

You can tell your day is going to suck right when you wake up. Something's different. I should've stayed in bed, faked sick, instead I sat up, saw my clock, and panicked. I was thirty minutes late. Even though I sprinted all the way across the school, my psychotic, senile, hag of a teacher shut the door in my face right as the bell rang, causing me to miss that test. In second block I discovered I had left my slaved-over report at home in my haste this morning. After second block my girlfriend broke up with me and walked away with some guy I didn't even know.

And it was only lunch.

In some state of shock I walk downstairs, but by the time I'm at the foot of them I'm in a hell of a mood and decide just to ditch for the rest of the day before anything worse can happen.

I don't even manage to get out of the school. Some freshman runs straight into me, drops all their books, and knocks me straight over.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" I scream, then storm out of the school.

I've been driving for two hourse before I discover I'm running on fumes. I pull into the first gas station I find and realize I'm utterly lost. I track my location on my iPhone. Figures, I'm an hour away from home.

I behold my glorious truck as I exit the Starbucks across the street with a huge coffee because it's freaking cold outside. My truck is old as dirt, but I fixed it up so everything else is new. The leather seats. The paint job. All the parts.

I get back in and pull out, heading home, in a better mood than I've been all day, when it statrs to rain. I love the rain, just not when I'm driving and when its like forty degrees outside. But with my luck, I'm probably going to run off a bridge.

By the time I'm twenty minutes away from home the rain is pouring so hard I'm driving twenty miles under the speed limit and can hardly see three feet in front of my car. But even this doesn't stop me from seeing the shadow run across the road.

I slam on the brakes and my truck goes spinning. In a frozen terror, I can't even get my hands off the steering wheel. When my truck stops I look out my window for whatever I almost just died for, and its climbing the barrier on the side of the bridge.

I yank the door open and try to jump out, but I still have my seat buckle on and I can't get it off. When I finally do, I go running towards the person. "Wait! Come down!" I shout, skidding to a stop a yard away when she shouts over the rain and sound of the river, "Stop, or I'll jump!"

"Please don't!" I yell back. "If I back up, will you come down?"

She's not even looking at me, I don't thinl. What the hell do you say to someone whose about to throw themselves off a bridge? Pathetically out of my element, I think back to TV, books, internet, anything, and of course I think of Titanic. I've seen it atleast a hundred times because every time it comes on the TV my sister yanks the remote away from me and watches it.

"You can't jump!" I yell at her, praying to God this works. "Because, if you do you know, I'll have to go after you."

She doesn't respond, but she does look at me. Progress, okay.

"I'm serious! How could I let you throw your life away in any good conscience? Guilt, depression, nightmares, I think not. I'm going in after you, whether you like it or not." I wonder if I mean it. Am I really that good of a person? No, probably not.

"Liar." Then she vanishes.

I bolt forward and half throw myself off the bridge, somehow managing to grab her before she falls out of my reach. Maybe I was that good of a person.

I can see the terror in her eyes now, maybe she slipped because it was so wet.

"Don't worry!" I yell, even though I'm freaking out on the inside. "Just hold on!"

Much easier said then done. Were both soaking wet and for whatever reason, neither of us are wearing long sleeves. She's slipping and I can tell she has no upper body strength whatsoever, so I dig my heels in and haul her up. Please, please God, don't let her slip.

I get her high enough that I manage to wrap my arms around her and yank her the last part of the way over the edge. I fall back, trembling with a mixture of terror, relief, shock, and cold. But she's shaking so hard she's practically vibrating. Well no wonder. she's in freaking shorts and a t-shirt.

I stand up and pull her along with me, then just pick her up. She makes no noise or protest as I sit her in the passenger side of my car and wrap her in my jacket, but maybe thats just because she's so cold her lips are turning blue.

With my heat blasting, I drive so fast I'm skidding every corner.

"Whats your name?" I ask.

"C-c-corrie," she says, shaking so hard it looks painful. "I-i don't live th-this way."

"Were going to my place, which is only like another ten minutes, unless your place is closer."

"You d-don't have t-to-"

"Are you in any of my classes?" I interrupt. She does seem kind of familiar.

"F-first and g-gym," she forces out.

"Thought so." I keep her talking until I manage to get in my driveway without killing us both. She can't even open her door she's shaking so hard, so I open it for her. She tries to walk, but I think she's taking to long, so I carry her inside and upstairs into my room.

"I-i'" she tries to protest.

"No, I'm running you a really hot bath and getting you some of my sisters clothes. Sit. Stay." I'm already out the door before I'm halfway through the sentence. I run the water on 'dangerously hot' and go into my sister's room. Had she been home, she would have killed me. Instead, I pull out clothes I think Corrie could wear.

Corrie's sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her stomach, bent over so her wet hair is a shield.

"Water's done," I say, pulling her up and handing her a huge fluffy white towel.

"I shouldn't be here," she says quietly. At least she's no longer stuttering.

"No, you shouldn't be at the bottom of the river. Go get in the water. The clothes are on the counter. They might be a bit big, but I'll throw your stuff into the dryer."

Looking absolutely miserable, Corrie locks herself into the bathroom I have to share with Lorrie, my sister. I hope she doesn't notice how I removed all of the razors.

Ten minutes later Corrie comes out, wearing one of Lorrie's old t-shirts and a pair of dark blue sweats, both huge on her. Her hair is up in a bun on the top of her head and she's holding a bundle of soaking clothes.

I take hers with mine downstairs. She follows me as I toss them in the dryer.

"Thank you," she finally says, or squeaks rather, staring at her feet.

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

She shakes her head, but I can tell she's lying.

"Good, I'm starving too. I never ate lunch."

"I'm not going to wear your sister's clothes and eat your food. As soon as my clothes dry, I'll call my mom and get a ride home," she says, her voice only slightly stronger.

"Corrie, you walked all the way to that bridge and almost jumped off. You're parents are obviously not helping with this, so I'll give it a shot."

"You don't care. You're just saying that because I'm here and you're polite."

"If I didn't care, would I have almost thrown myself off the bridge trying to catch you?" I ask.

"I've had classes with you since elementary school and you've never said a word to me."

"I have a reason now. Really Corrie, please talk. I'm no shrink, and I have no idea how to help, but you aren't leaving until I have some minor assurance you won't be killing yourself again any time soon."

"This is just your good deed of the day, isn't it. I'm only on your radar because-"

Before she can finish I pick her up. She struggles, but I set her in one of the barstools and a few minutes later were eating sandwiches. "Talk, now," I say, and I really did care about what she had to say.