The Invisible Child A breeze pushes past his body as he stands on the sidewalk looking at all the children around him play. Do they notice him? Surely not. He is the invisible child, who sees but is not seen. Who watches, but is not watched. Who envies, but is not envied. He is the child in the background who only hopes of having a friend. He pushes these feelings deeper as he steps away from the security the curb offers. Hands trembling, feet shaking, skin-crawling, he walks closer to the other children. What if they don’t accept him? What if they don’t want to be his friend? What if they don’t even notice him? Be Brave. He remembers his mother's words as though they were still a small whisper in his ear. Be brave, and be true to yourself. With a puff of his chest and a small gulp, he takes another small step towards the children. He goes to raise his hand, but the bell rings, drawling them all back like bees to their hive. He had let himself down. Worse, he had let his mother down. He was not brave.

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