Only Differently Designed // ODD

11. Only Scarlet's House (Part 4)

At first glance, it would seem as if the girls gathered in Scarlet's room are working on their History project due next week. That is, judging by the cardboard, papers of research, highlighters and pens spread in front of them. But if one were to listen to their conversation, it would be revealed that those girls are really discussing, not the history of World War II, but rather–

"Don't you think Nathan would be a lot cuter without glasses?" Jenna sighs dreamily.

"Ew, Nathan's not cute," Laura crinkles her nose.

"Oh you just say that because he's your brother!"

"Girls guess what?" Scarlet exclaims.

"What?" Laura yells. God, my ears. Did she have to sit next to me?

"There's exactly one month left for Christmas," Scarlet grins, eyes sparkling. "You all know what that means right?"

"Food?" Laura suggests.

"No, our traditional Secret Santa!"

"Ugh, Laura if you get my name this year do me a favor and don't buy me anything," Jenna says.

"Why?" Laura pouts. "You didn't like my perfume last year?"

"It was a body spray and it smelled like turnips!"

"Heather, you should join us this year," Scarlet says, placing a hand on my knee.

"Uh." Uh? What does 'uh' mean?

Why hast thou forsaken me, airborne front lawn powers?

"Every year a few weeks before Christmas," Scarlet explains to me. "The four of us each take a piece of paper with someone's name on it and we buy them a gift for Christmas. So for example, if I get your name, I'd buy you a present. If you get Massa's name, you get her a gift, and so on."

"Yeah, uh, sounds nice."

Scarlet asks for my home phone number so she could contact me during the winter holiday. Figure by figure, I recite the number I had once been obliged to memorize by my mother. The digits drop rigidly out of my mouth. I am uttering them for the first time, not to the doctor or the handyman or the school reception, but to a girl my age.

Is my social life progressing? Am I doing things right, for a change?

"Massa, remember that hot guy from your horseback riding club?" Jenna asks.

"Who? Fadi?" Massa asks without looking up from her task. She's braiding Scarlet's wet hair, knitting the shiny black strands together carefully, creating a neat interweaved pattern.

Jenna throws her head back. "Ugh, if only he were in our school."

Massa rolls her eyes but her hands never stopped moving accordingly, as if braiding is something she could do blindfolded.

Jenna then scoots closer and squints at her, asking, "Do you like him?"

"Of course not! He's stupid, this obnoxious, show-off," Massa's weaving increases in speed and violence. She yanks Scarlet's hair and unintentionally twists a strand into the wrong place, mutilating the braid's shape. "There's no way I'd like someone so–"

"Ow, ow, ow," Scarlet winces, her head flailing right to left as Massa makes hot-blooded hand motions while braiding all at once.

"Unpleasant, offensive, he's just the rudest–" Massa roughly ties the end of her chaotic handiwork with an elastic band. "There. As I was saying, he's just horrible. He thinks he's better than everyone. No, no way I'd like him."

"Then why are you blushing?"

Massa glares at Jenna and the latter smirks.

"We should be focusing on our History project," Massa announces firmly. "So, any ideas?"

The girls fall silent. Massa turns to each girl, one at a time, but they either shake their head or fiddle with the closest object. They're suddenly all out of words. That's when I realize – I'm not the only one who stumbles into a pit of speechlessness. It all depends on one's area of expertise. It just happened that my knowledge wasn't in the same zone as theirs.

"How about you, Heather?"

Their silence mends my broken confidence.

I pry open my pursed lips open and say, "Well, um, the teacher said to focus on the causes and results of both wars, so perhaps we could do a sort of comparison table."

Massa nods. Everyone is listening. A spark of courage ignites in my chest.

"The question we'll be asking is this, 'How did World War I cause World War II?' We'll state different points and see how they relate to each other. For instance, one of World War I's results was the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, something that was seemingly at first a peace treaty, but the terms were too harsh, it ended up producing yet another war."

I grab a pen and draw a table on a piece of paper, describing what I had just explained.

"And there are plenty of other examples. Almost every outcome of the first war served as a trigger for the second. It's simple but I'm sure we'll get a good grade if we're able to tie these causes and results together."

"That sounds great," Scarlet says. "Let's do that."

Now the girls gathered in Scarlet's room are sitting in a circle, working on their project, passing on highlighters, pointing out mistakes, offering suggestions. Every now and then, Laura would make some annoying popping sound or Jenna would whine about being bored and tired.

At some point Scarlet orders pizza and the five of us eat.

Scarlet, Massa, Jenna, Laura and I.

And I, I am not talkative or overly-confident, but I manage to voice my ideas with minimum stuttering and, during the next few hours we spend in that room, I almost feel like I belong.