All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
People accused Miranda of being an attention hog. And she didn't deny it. She knew people never took their eyes off her. That's how she wanted it to be. Though her peers often accused her of being desperate for the attention she sought, this wasn't the case. It's surprisingly easy to get the undivided of high school students. Unless of course, you are a teacher.
Miranda's methods of attention hogging came down to her wild personality, her erratic behavior, her ever-changing hair color, and the scandals she created (though usually by accident). She never had an eye stray from her in all her life.
As you can probably guess, with the aforementioned qualities, being out of the spotlight for one moment would be absolutely detrimental to her existence. You guessed right.
On a lazy Saturday morning, Miranda awoke and found that she was invisible. Her heart stopped. She could definitely feel her hand in front of her face. Seeing it was another matter entirely. She leapt up. Her entire body, including her clothes were invisible. She sat down on her bed, making a strange impression in the mattress, by her unseen force.
Omigod. Omigod. Omigod. What is happening? This is just a dream. Right? HELLO! MIRANDA CAN WAKE UP NOW!
She looked down. She could still see nothing but the impression she was making in her mattress. Miranda got up and headed for the phone, hoping to call her friend, Jessica. Wait. What am I going to say? “Hey Jess, guess what! I'm invisible!” No, that would not do. This was too much for her. She began to cry, her sobs loud and wet. For the first time in her life, being in the center of attention would certainly not help her. She slumped back into her bed, her invisible eyes crying visible tears, making a visible puddle on her pillow. She remained like this for some time, before realizing this was a blessing in disguise. She had never considered invisibility a great power as far as superpowers go. She had always hoped for flying, or super speed. But, if a superpower must come to her, invisibility was as good as any other. She decided to write a quick note to her parents, still asleep, notifying them of her absence. Sneaking down the stairs and out the door, Miranda was about to take advantage of her invisibility.
What do invisible people do for fun? Taking out her anger on the people she disliked came to mind. She decided to drop by her neighbor and arch enemy's house to settle some deep seated rivalry. Her neighbor/arch enemy was Casey Costello, a girl who, as you can guess, competed for the spotlight routinely. She was second at everything Miranda got first, and had the nerve to call Miranda an “obsessive, snaggletoothed uggo with the hair of a hallucinogenic troll doll.” Casey was a poet when it came to insults.
Miranda crept up to the cellar window of Casey's house, a malicious look in her eye. She scanned the area, looking for any witnesses, realizing that they wouldn't see her anyway. With a brick in hand, she carefully shattered the small window, and shimmied into the Costello Cellar. She tiptoed up the cellar stairs and found herself in the living room. Mr. Costello was watching football, spread out on the couch like a beached whale. Miranda contemplated messing with the poor man, but she decided she had nothing against him. She moved on up to her main target, Casey's Lair. To Miranda's delight, Casey was sound asleep. Pathetic, Miranda thought, It's one in the afternoon. She made her way into the bathroom and got a few select items. Shaving cream, check. Razor, check. Baby powder, check. Miranda loomed over Casey, shaving cream in hand. She cautiously dabbed a bit on each eyebrow. Then, with an artful slash of the razor, Casey's eyebrows were gone. Casey stirred a bit and then proceeded to snore loudly. Miranda then left a trail of baby powder where each eyebrow had been. With that, she made her escape, extremely satisfied.
She stood in the street thinking of more mischief to make. She then saw the local stick-in-the-mud, a man who she liked to refer to as Old Man Jenkins, despite the fact that he was more of a middle-aged man named O'Hara. He was pruning his petunias, donning a ridiculous sun hat and bermuda shorts. Mr. O'Hara had often blown the whistle on Miranda's schemes. He had the nerve to call the police when she and her friends had had a noxious pizza (covered with anchovies, pineapple ans Skittles) delivered to him. He had also vetoed the building of a fantastic treehouse in a lovely willow in his backyard. What a jerk. Now Miranda had her revenge. She made her way over to his old Cadillac and snuck in through the open window. She looked around seeing what havoc she could wreak. Feeling her way around in the glove compartment, she found various napkins and paper products. Ripping them to shreds, she stuffed each little piece into the cars air conditioner, then turning the fans on high. She smiled devilishly, imagining Mr. O'Hara getting in his car on his way to a gardening convention. Then as soon as he turned the key in the ignition, the air conditioning would turn on full blast, dousing him in a shower of papery bits. She maneuvered her way out of the car and did a few cartwheels, to add theatrical effect.
Though reducing her arch enemies to an eyebrow-less hobo and an annoyed traveller had been fun, Miranda now wondered what to do. She wandered down the lane, not even making a shadow on the pavement. Being invisible was not fun for someone who was used to making shadows everywhere, let alone making scandals. Miranda sat down on the curb, making a small depression in the summer grass. She wanted to DO something. Being invisible would not get in the way of her determination to make an impact. An impact, as in something more than shaving the eyebrows off of some pathetic drama queen. Liberated by a feeling of importance, Miranda got up and ran. She wasn't sure where she was running, but she had a feeling that she would get there. The sweet breeze of summer tickled her bare feet and she rand faster, soaking in the world around her that she had ignored. It was nice not to be bothered by petty phone calls to go out or an obligation to be outrageous and fun, and just look at the scenery. Miranda suddenly noticed an sad old man stooped over, feeling around in his mailbox. She stood there for a minute, feeling wistful, then trotted away.
“Good afternoon,” the old man said.
Miranda stopped. She looked at herself hastily, wondering if she had become visible. Nope. She turned around and faced him.
“Hi,” she muttered suspiciously.
“Forgive me if I'm being rude but I've never heard you walk by before. Are you new to these parts?” he asked jovially.
“Heard my walk...?”
“My eyesight has gotten worse and worse over the years. Luckily my ears haven't given out yet.”
“Oh. Well, I'm not new I just don't walk by here very often,” she said.
“Not many people do. Over the years though, I've come to recognize everyone's walk. My neighbor, Ted, has a distinct shuffle because of the arthritis in his knee. My daughter always wears heels and I hear her clacking up the street. The mailman has squeaky sneakers, but I rarely hear him anymore.”
Miranda stared at him in awe, pondering how someone could be so...notice-y. She had never noticed anything a day in her life, unless it pertained to her reputation.
“Wow. I never knew everyone had a distinct walk,” she said sheepishly.
“Yes, in some way, I'm almost glad that I can't see at all, since I can hear twice as well.” he said , more to himself than anyone, “Still...it would be nice to see a movie once in a while.”
For the first time, Miranda felt unbelievably sad on someone else's behalf. She stared at this old man, wondering what it must be like to not be able to see, or be seen. She realized she knew half of what it was like. And then, she got an idea.
“Well, you're in luck because that's why I'm here.”
She walked with the old man through the local park.
“And on your right is a gigantic tree, two squirrels and chasing each other up the trunk,” she said, like a tour guide on a bus. “A little red haired boy just dropped his chocolate ice cream on the ground, but he's picking it back up now and putting it back on the cone. Some kid just skateboarded down those steps by city hall. Believe it or not, he didn't bash his head open. A poodle and a bulldog are falling in love...I think their owners are, too. A girl with long braids is giving out flowers, do you want one? She's right over here, yes that's it. Tell her thanks. It's yellow and fuzzy, I think it's a dandelion but it's the thought that counts. If you look up, there's a cloud in the sky that looks just like a dragon eating a school bus. I'll leave you here. Goodbye!”
The old man stood in shock, listening to all the sounds around him, and imagining everything Miranda had just said.
“Miss! Miss? Where'd she go...”
He then heard a familiar shuffle to his right.
“Ted?” he asked, turning.
“Hey, Jerry. Where'd who go?”
“A most remarkable young lady told me she'd be my eyes this afternoon. For the past hour she's led me around town, telling me everything.”
“Did you see her run off in that direction? I wanted to thank her.”
“I didn't see anyone, Jerry.”
“What a shame. Is it true, that there's a cloud in the sky that looks like a dragon eating a schoolbus?”
Ted looked up. “I dunno, they all look like marshmallows to me.”
Miranda ran looking back at the old man, smiling. She felt an overwhelming affection for her town. She leaned against a tree, sat down,and sighed.
Miranda jumped and looked around.
“Um...why are you in the park, in your pajamas?”
It was Jessica. Miranda waved her hand in front of her face and confirmed it. She was no longer invisible and was indeed in the local park wearing her pajamas.
“I, um, wanted to take up jogging,” Miranda answered.
“Oh. Weird. Hey, Herb found a garden snake in his yard and he's keeping it as a pet. Wanna go feed it a frozen mouse from the pet store?”
Miranda inhaled, trying to digest what she had just experienced. She could have pondered how blindness and invisibility were inherently different and similar, how she actually enjoyed being anonymous for once, how the way she lived her life was shallow and unimportant in the long run. But she decided to just be happy that she could see and be seen by the dragon eating the school bus.