This story was authored and made by Cyn Bermudez.

This story is all about Faith Navarro, the violinist who had problems at her home and her sister, Emma, who also has problems with drugs, like meth. So, enjoy!

***Capella High School for the Arts. Faith didn’t feel fully awake until she’s sitting at my usual spot on the bench. Sports are not her thing. She’s not alone in this here. It's an art school-sports are a punishment. Volleyball isn't her least favorite sport, but It’s far worse during zero period. Faith sat as quietly as possible, hoping if Faith slouch in just the right way, if she breathe without sound, if Faith keep her head down, eyes to her, she’ll be invisible. She is comfortable in her solitude. She wasn't always a loner.

Faith had friends at her other school. But, she was alone in a different way. At the other school, She was Faith Navarro: the girl from around the corner. The girl with a mother who works too much. The girl with the crazy older sister. She was, was... The girl that nobody know. played the violin. Yet, at the same time-the girl who played some instrument really good And I am really good. Proven by the countless living room performances for neighbors and Mom's friends. She was, am... HERE at this school, I'm still that girl. Unknown. 1 am Faith Navarro. A violinist in a hall full of violinists. In classrooms full of other musicians. In a school full of other really good artists. Better artists. I'm also really good at being invisible. So, when coach called her name Faith was surprised. Shocked even. She’d look up, dumbfounded. Pointing at her: “Are you sure?” "I'm not talking to myself, Navarro," Coach says. "Up. Now." She points to the court. Faith got up the bench slowly. Every step is as unsure as the last one. Another player throws her the ball. It's her turn to serve. Faith felt as if there is no more air to breathe. As if only thick fog surrounds her. When she arrive at the end line, sweat drips down my face, her neck. She can't hear anything. Only the sound of her heart thumping in her chest. Faith threw the ball up into the air and swing with her other hand. She missed. She’s too nervous to look at anyone. But all eyes are on her. A sea of very annoyed eyes. Another ball is thrown at her. She dreaded trying again. But then the blaring tone of the bell silences the room. She hears her name over the intercom. Sometimes, she wonders what it would be like to be in a space suit high above Earth. No sound. No gravity. Only the darkness of space. For a moment, as she walk away from the rest of her PE class, She feels awkward, bulky, floating toward the door, and all is silent, unmoving. When she walked out, into the hallway, she feel a rush of cool wind. The sound of taunting ohs behind her. Instantly, she’s both relieved and worried. The one thing she’s sure of is Vice Principal Bernant's sole purpose at Capella High— fixing the problem kids. Even, an art school. which Mom says costs an "arm and a leg" to attend, has its own set of troublemakers. Stinks that she’s one of them. She don't mean to be, you know— a troublemaker, a problem kid But the other day, she ditched school again. Her Mom's going to be angry. She took her time. walking to Mr. Bernant's office. Her body is still warm from volleyball. Her armpits tingle with sweat. She usually shower after zero period. Faith sure she smelt of BO and morning breath. No matter how slow she move, she reaches the office faster than Faith wants. I never remember the secretary's name. She knows hers. She greets Faith at the entrance and guides me to a chair outside of Mr. Bernant's door. I'm not sitting for long when his door opens. Mr. Bernant is a big, burly man with lots of hair. It's kind of gross. "Come in, Miss Navarro." Mr. Bernant warned her No more absences. He warned my mother, too. "My last absence was excused," I say. My cheeks redden. I avoid looking at Mr. Bernant. "I've already spoken to your mother," he says. The room falls awkwardly silent. My teachers trade glances. "We know about your sister," Mr. Bernant spoke.*