Only Differently Designed // ODD

16. Only Social Skills

What is one supposed to give someone like Laura?

A muzzle, perhaps, to keep her big mouth in check.

I'm not trying to be mean, really. It's for her own safety. Taking into consideration the volume of her voice and her inability to keep things to herself, you only have to be a mile away from the girl to know what her computer password is. I can only imagine what things would be like once she has her own bank account.

She'd be announcing her pin number on the radio.

During the time I spent with the girls at that hospital visit, I learned many things from Laura – such as who had a crush on whom, why this teacher was absent and that janitor fired, even where her parents kept the key to their backdoor. Despite of all the things she nattered of, the one thing I haven't managed to catch is what sorts of things she likes.

Sure, I'm not the biggest fan of Laura, but I would still rather if I weren't that one person who bought a meaningless keychain for the Secret Santa. This gift, it ought to be... full of the Christmas spirit. I'm willing toactually put effort into what I buy her, despite my annoyance towards her.

So one afternoon, nearly a week after being assigned to be Laura's personal Santa, I decide to do something I would usually prefer not to do – start a conversation.

I choose to seek out Laura's fraternal twin, Nathan, for this mission. And my, the lack of similarities between them! While Laura is loud, reckless and silly, Nathan is quiet, heedful and smart (at least he seems to be).

One wouldn't guess they were related if it weren't for their appearance.

They were both boney and blonde. You could definitely still tell them apart though, seeing as Laura skipped around in overalls and messy flower-infested double braids, whereas Nathan strode in button shirts and short, neat hair.

Nathan happens to be one of the rare boys in class who do not feel the need to roar and head-butt other males constantly between lessons to prove their masculinity. I notice he raises his hand in class (the way you are supposed to, not the way almost every student does it – by blabbering answers right away with their hand still making its way into the air) and occasionally appears in the library, although not to borrow books, but to play games on the computers.

In other words, he appears to be a decent human. One who, hopefully, I won't have trouble interacting with.

I find him one afternoon sitting alone outside the school building seemingly waiting for whatever transportation he needs. He is stuffed under all sorts of winter garments. Only his face, twisted in concentration while playing a game of Dragon Ball on his Gameboy, is visible behind his glasses.

I stand to his left, unsure of how to start talking to him. I tap my finger against my thigh repeatedly, pretending to be pressing a button that boosts my courage the way that Nathan's character in the game is biding its power in the energy bar for the final blow.

Once I spot his character finishing his opponent off for good with a Kamehameha I take a breath and shoot my own Kamehameha.

"Um, hey, Nathan. I was wondering if you could help me out with something, I, uh, this is going to sound odd, but could you tell me what sort of things Laura likes? It's for a, um, a gift. For Christmas, you know? I just need to know what I should get for Laura."

I clutch the hem of my sweater, waiting. Nathan resumes with the next level of his game. I expect him to pause it at any moment and turn towards me, but he never does. The boy continues ramming his thumbs against the buttons of his toy.

Is he that absorbed in the game? Or is he blatantly ignoring me?

I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Just when I think of making my way back and pretending this uncomfortable one-sided conversation never happened, a strong gust of wind blows in our direction. The loose flaps of Nathan's fur hat lift in the air for a brief moment, long enough for me to glimpse the white earphones jammed into his ears.

Oh.

He made me waste my limited speaking powers on air!

I am about to tap him on the shoulder when a bus halts in front of us. Nathan gets up and moves to enter it.

"W-wait Nathan!" I call out, but the boy still doesn't hear me. I have a choice then, of either waiting until tomorrow to question him or ditching this plan completely.

Naturally, I follow neither one of those sensible options.

Instead, in an instant of insanity I hop after him into this bus with an unknown destination, carrying with me an absurd sense of bravery, as if I have challenged myself – this is how far I'd go for a necessary conversation!

Behold the audacity of my socialization skills!

I want to scramble out of the bus just as soon as I'd entered it but the doors are already hissing close by the time I am scared enough to realize what I have done. The bus takes off before I have the chance to sit. I lurch backwards, nearly landing on the lap of an innocent passenger, nearly replaying the Scarlet library scene – but with strangers.

What a nasty thing to imagine.

I steady myself and drag my body into the depths of the bus, fighting against the physics of speed or whatever it is that makes it hard to walk in moving buses. I find a seat, luckily, right behind Nathan.

Might as well go through it then, I think.

Throughout the bus ride I keep on telling myself that I will make that conversation work somehow. I will tap him on his shoulder –the one I have easy access to thanks to my smart seating choice – and when he notices me he will take his earphones off and listen to me speak like a normal person and give me all the answers I need.

It will be a short conversation, straight to the point, and it will appear to be a mere coincidence, my presence in this bus.

I think of how it is supposed to go over and over in my head, wishing I could just ramble whatever the way I did the first time I spoke, but of course now that spontaneous spark is already used up. Thanks to Nathan and his bloody earphones.

Why can't I just speak without weighing my words like vegetables on the cashier's table?

Gathering what scraps of courage I've got left, I finally tap the shoulder in front of me... Only to receive a face that doesn't belong to Nathan. I nearly scream my eyes out at the sight of the wrinkled eyes and greyed hairs.

Is that how long it took me to muster my courage? That the boy aged in the meantime?!

Out of the corner of my eye I spot Nathan, the real one, standing next to the bus door waiting his turn to exist. Pretending not to notice the old stranger I poked asking me what I wanted, I hurry to the door. I follow the boy out of the bus and onto the street. I walk several meters behind him, trying to figure out where in the world we are, hoping I don't seem like a stalker.

That is until he enters his home, leaving me stranded on the side of the road, shivering in the cold and feeling fairly idiotic.