If I just stand still, no one sees me. They talk and laugh and smile. They enter under my name. But if I stand still, they don't see me.

The man with the large wrinkled smile cheered loud at me after he almost sat on me and I jumped up. He shook my hand, and told me the man I would be. He told me my dreams and my plans, and how he had already achieved them all for me. And his eyes never wrinkled.

Before that the woman, who doesn't hear good, saw me while I was trying to get some food. She asked me my age, again. And told me what her son was like at that age. And told me what she had done that day. And told me how she didn't like children. I stopped moving and when she couldn't see me any longer her talking moved to a man nearby. I left the food.

When the people first started to enter, I tried to escape, but one kid caught me moving. He asked me where my games were. I have not seen him again and I do no know who he was.

Before the strangers came, my parents were busy around the house. I sat on a chair in the room by the door. And they could not see me as they ran about screaming and yelling. They cleaned and put up a colorful paper, with my name on it, over the door. They told each other what to do and what each stranger wanted. They dressed up like they were leaving but they stayed. And I made sure not to move.

Now I stand against the wall between two conversations. People are standing in circles or sitting at tables. The noise is loud and feels like a wave in my head. I am tired. I see two people leave my parents small couch. I don't see anyone looking, so I move.

I reach the couch, but mother sees me first. She shouts. The loudness stops. I am scared so I can't stand still. They all see me now. I am not allowed to sit on the couch, she tells me. It is for adults. They need places to sit. I am disrupting the party. I don't know what disrupt means, but she is angry. She sends me off. I hold my breath. All the heads turn away.

And I stay standing next to the couch. If I don't move, they will not see me.

Okay, this is more depressing than my normal fare (and that's saying something), but it isn't my fault, honestly. Well, it is my fault. But it also isn't. I had to write a story with "a boy who's only visible when he moves" and "a disrupted celebration." I wish I had made the disruption better, but I just made sure to put the word, itself, in there to make sure I qualified. So... okay, I made it depressing. I'm sorry. But honestly, the combination was perfect.

I have a single sentence I like from it; see if you can guess which one.

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