Their superpower was the last thing they wanted.
The Irony League
Ella Evanescet almost skipped to the stage to give her audition. She was auditioning for the part of Juliet in her school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Most people would be nervous, but not Ella. She was ecstatic to be speaking in front of people, even if it was only Mrs. Harr, the music and acting director at school.
“Ella, please read these lines.” She handed Ella one of Juliet’s monologues.
Ella read the lines with loudly and clearly, filled with emotion. She watched Mrs. Harr’s face spread into a smile, something that doesn’t happen very often.
“Nice job, Ella!” Mrs. Harr said.
Ella skipped off the stage, smiling ear to ear.
It was dinner at the Evanescet’s. Ella poked at her food, potatoes, dramatically. “I can’t eat this,” she complained.
“Ella, you loved potatoes four weeks ago.”
“I know. Just practicing my drama for my part as Juliet.”
“Not yet, officially.”
A normal dinner table would have experienced an awkward silence right about now, but not the Evanescet’s.
“Seriously, though, I did so well! I projected my voice, looked Mrs. Harr in the eye, and she istotallygoingtogivemethepartI’msoexcited!”
“ELLA!” Ella’s father spoke loud enough to snap Ella out of it. “EAT!”
Ella ate one bite and then promptly started chattering away again.
“That’s Ella,” her mother sighed. “Always the center of attention.”
The next day at school was both exciting and heartbreaking. Exciting for Ella because, just as expected, she got the part. Heartbreaking for the other students, especially the ones who had tried out for Juliet, because these lucky ones got to hear Ella brag all day.
All. Day.
“I knew I was going to get the part. I mean, I was flawless. No problems whatsoever,” Ella bragged in gym class during dodgeball.
Amelia Corntell rolled her eyes. She had also tried out for Juliet. “Ella, no one wants to hear about your audition. We know. It’s common sense that if you got the part, you must be good.”
Ella pouted dramatically for a little while. It was so hard to be the center of attention when your life was so boring. This was something new to talk about.
“Well, do you want to hear about the time I caught a-“
“NO!” The class shouted simultaniously.
“How about the time I won-“
“What about-“
“I’m going to tell you anyway.”
Ella figured that being a brat was better than being a nobody, so she began her story about going fishing despite the class’s protests.
Wednesday morning dawned bright and early. Ella jumped out of bed, ready to begin the day. Ella was both a morning person and a night person. Why sleep when you could be talking?
Ella climbed on the bus, still talking the ears off of the poor people at her bus stop.
Her loud voice rose above the bus’s chatter, and she began a discussion about the homework. “Wasn’t last night’s math homework so hard?” She asked.
“Not really.” David Peterson said. “It shouldn’t have been hard, but you were busy talking and weren’t paying attention.”
“Oh, math just isn’t my strongest subject. I got an A on last Tuesday’s test.”
To Ella’s surprise, no one was listening. They were all continuing talking like she wasn’t even there.
“I SAID THAT I GOT AN A ON LAST TUESDAY’S TEST,” Ella practically shouted. When no one even flinched, she looked at the ground and scowled in frustration. Then she realized something... her hands were gone. And so were her legs.
She moved her transparent hand up to her face to touch it. Swish. Her hand touched the seat behind her like nothing was there.
She tried to talk, but no one heard her. She was just... gone.
Ella Evanescet had just received the most ironic superpower that a drama-obsessed attention-seeker like her could receive. Invisibility.
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