1000 Paper Cranes

Chapter 15 - 970

A week and twenty-five incinerated cranes later, Robin, Joanna and I sat in the library, laughing a little too loudly than was actually acceptable in a library.

"Did you know that even blind people smile?" I asked after catching my breath. "Which tells us that smiling is instinctive, not learned. Our bodies love to laugh."

Joanna had been telling us about her art class. Nobody could relive a funny story like Jo. She could make anybody laugh.

"Does he always do that?" Robin asked Jo, sipping from her milk carton.

"I tried to warn you. I told you it was obnoxious and you said it was endearing." Joanna rolled her eyes playfully.

"It is endearing." Robin defended.

I could feel blush creep up my face. I had found myself blushing more regularly since Robin had come into my life.

I wasn't used to the attention and I didn't think I'd ever get used to being flirted with. That had definitely never happened to me before.

"Jordan said you're going to make him popular. Does that mean you're going to make him stop with the fact-spouting?" Joanna asked, not offensively.

I shoved her, playfully, but I had been wondering the same thing. I wasn't sure that I could get rid of my facts. And even if I could, I wasn't sure that I wanted to. It was part of who I was. I'd been spouting random trivia since I was in preschool. Did I really want to lose that part of who I was?

"Of course not." Robin sounded offended. "It's not about being what everybody else wants you to be. It's about being comfortable with who you are. That's how you gain respect. That's why everybody loves you, Jo."

I'd never thought about it, but Robin had a point. People loved Joanna because she knew exactly who she was; she was comfortable in her own skin. People loved Jonathan for the same reason. He was an unashamed computer nerd and jock. People were drawn to their confidence and their charm. I was charmed by the confidence.

"Believe me, it's not easy being me." Joanna half-smiled.

"But at least you're being you." Robin shrugged.

This conversation had taken a hard right turn into something serious. I had not been expecting our lighthearted laughter to turn philosophical.

Robin must have also felt the awkward tension, because she changed the topic back to something less heavy.

"I do have to thank you." She said.

Joanna's face looked as confused as I felt. Thank her for what?

"You fought half of the battle for me by teaching this boy how to dress." She giggled. "Because he was a lost cause until a few weeks ago."

Again, I felt the blush creep up my cheeks. I didn't think I had looked that bad before the transformation. What had been so wrong with how I'd dressed?

Perceptive Joanna could practically read my mind.

"Oh, come off it!" She laughed. "Ratty jeans that are too big and faded t-shirts advertising video games are the least attractive things I've ever seen. Throw in your beat up Converse shoes with that peek-a-boo pinkie toe hole and you're worse off than wearing socks with sandals."

Robin cackled so hard that we were almost kicked out of the library.

"Okay, okay. So my clothes sucked. What else do I need to remember to be able to fit into this whole high school thing?" I reached into my backpack and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook. Flipping to a blank page, I uncapped a pen and awaited their suggestions.

"You're not seriously about to take notes on being cool are you? I can't even. I just can't." Joanna pretended to be flustered. "Okay. Here. Step 1: Don't take notes on being cool."

Robin's infectious giggle came in response and I couldn't help but smile, too. I supposed I did look pretty ridiculous, trying to take notes on fitting in.

"Sorry, should I be using college ruled paper, instead?" I asked.

Suddenly, the girls stilled. Their eyes grew wide in shock and they didn't speak for a few seconds. In perfect unison, their jaws fell open.

"What?" I hated feeling so confused. "What's going on?"

"Did you just..." Robin began in mock shock. "Did you just make a joke?"

"It was the worst joke in the history of the world," Joanna nodded slowly, still staring at me with wide eyes. "But it was a joke. There's hope for him, yet."

I nearly argued that I was not the worst joke. I once was told a joke involving scaring bacon. But I decided to let them stay impressed.

"Robin, I don't think you get it." Joanna turned to Robin. "Jordan and I have been friends for almost seven years and I can't think of a single time he's ever made a joke. I mean, not even 'knock, knock. Who's there?' Nothing."

Once I thought about it, Joanna had a point. I wasn't much of a joke-teller. I rarely laughed, even. Usually, I was just being laughed at.

Joanna was the jokester. Jon was the prankster. I... well. I was the sidekick. The Robin to their Batman; the Tonto to their Lone Ranger. They had all the personality, but it had never bothered me. Not until that moment, at least.

"So that's going to be where we start your 'cool training.'" Robin nodded resolutely. "You need to find out which jokes work for you."

"Not everybody is 'the funny one,' but everybody is a little funny." Joanna explained.

And I began to wonder what my thing was. Were puns going to be my go-to? Would I be any good at situational comedy? Maybe fart jokes were my thing.

"And, please. No fart jokes."

How could Robin always read my mind?

That night, my dad knocked on my bedroom door and came in to find me browsing websites for jokes.

"Son, whatever it is, we can work through this." He grabbed my arm dramatically. "I don't know if you failed a test, or killed somebody, or what, but you don't have to do this. There is always another option. Comedy is not the answer."

My dad was always good for a laugh. I often wondered why I had not inherited his social graces or his sense of humor or his sensibilities. He was a mathematician; I had inherited his analytical characteristics and my mom's methodical nature. I was a great big ball of boring.

"I'm not funny, Dad." I confessed, hanging my head in shame. I knew this sounded like a problem straight out of Leave it to Beaver, but this was a problem, nonetheless.

"I know, Jordan," he said, mock disappointment on his face. "I often question where I went wrong. You're just so much like your mother. She's not funny, either, you know. Brilliant and beautiful, but not funny."

He smiled at me and I felt myself give way to a foolish grin. The sheer dorkiness of my dad made everybody laugh. Would that be my thing?

Would I ever find "my thing?"

Once I thought about it, though, I remembered something. My mom was hilarious. She didn't often make jokes, but when she did, I'd laugh so hard I couldn't breathe.

"Look, Jordan," my dad said, truly serious. "Humor is about being who you are. Don't rely on jokes from bubblegum wrappers or stand-up comics to make people laugh. Just open up and be yourself. I know that sounds terribly cliché, but it's the best advice I've got."

He shrugged, patting my shoulder. As he left my room, I pondered what he had said. What Robin and Joanna had said. All signs pointed to one thing.

I was going to have to come out of hiding.