He was walking down the main corridor with his head down, shoulders tucked in closely to his chest and hands buried deep within his jacket pockets. Although he couldn't see anything besides the well worn carpet and his equally well worn joggers, he had learnt many months ago how to navigate the school as if like a ghost - unseen and unnoticed. But unlike a ghost, when he was noticed, people were not afraid. It was the ghost that had everything to fear as he made his way through the high school corridors everyday.
Occasionally, he lifted his head to confirm that he was still a ghost but also to find a reason to prove himself wrong, and he would find that reason every time he had the courage to look into a group of twenty students, see two familiar faces and receive the same familiarity looking back at him.
The momentary glace from his former best and only friends would rerun in his mind giving him hope till the next day where he could go through the same process again.
He neared the end of his trudge and began scanning the floor as usual for any books that were his. He picked up book after book that eventually led up to his locker, the only one that had been graffiti tagged and had a severed lock. He gave out a helpless sigh and those around him who were pretending to not notice his hardship, for once took notice and recognised him as their fellow classmate, Richard Scott. That was all they noticed, within a split second, they turned back to their own crowd and continued their day not remembering or thinking twice about what happened in the corridor. Richard told himself, once again, he was right - he...