Collector of the Odd

Chapter II

As the youngest of the Hardscrabble children, Max was not only one excluded for being strange, but also for being little. His growth spurt was at least a year away, and he wasn't exactly making up for that in strength. No one bothered Otto or Lucia (Loo-CHEE-a) because they were either too scared to pick on Otto or too worried about getting in trouble if they picked on a girl. Max had no such good fortune.

Lunch hour, of course, was the worst time of all. No lessons and no teachers; a time when the frustration and boredom of students ran amuck. The Hardscrabbles gave up on sitting in the cafeteria, and the halls were much more quiet anyway. One could actually hear themselves think. While his siblings left him to venture into the cafeteria on the dangerous mission of warming up their food, Max picked at his own small container of last night's dinner. Sighing long and loud, he ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. He and Lucia shared this feature, though due to the length of hers it posed much more of a nuisance.

Max wished they had more in common that just hair colour. Lucia was one of the smartest in her class. Straight A's since the beginning of high school. Even Otto managed consistently decent grades, though he barely payed attention. Max just couldn't focus. His thoughts would wander endlessly until he was sure his body would follow his brain right out of his seat and through the ceiling. Yet he could never forget the furrowed thick eyebrows of his disappointed father every year after exams.

Max flinched when quickened footsteps proceeded ripples of laughter around the corner of lockers. He sat perfectly still, his lungs clenched with fear. Had Otto signed something funny to Lucia as they returned, or was this the enemy?

Well, it was one of the enemies. And his girlfriend. Fantastic, Max thought. Maybe if I just eat here, they won't notice.

As if.

This enemy was the kind that smoked too much for someone so young, had a scar or two from skateboarding, and never wore his trousers right. Max tried his best to ignore their weird snogging until he was noticed.

No words were exchanged. As they passed, one swift kick and Max's rice and chicken went flying across the dirty hall floor. Max didn't even make a sound, but he did wince at the pain that would leave a nasty bruise on his arm. The burst of noise left him somewhat overwhelmed, and he was stilled until they were almost all the way down the hall. The enemy's girlfriend smirked, seeming pleased with the demonstration of her lover's schoolyard dominance.

The click of sharp shoes in front of the couple made Max flick his eyes up, his mind still processing what happened. What he saw he thought for a moment was an angel descended to save him. That was ridiculous, of course, it was just a girl in fourth year. He had seen people like her in the books of strange things Otto owned. She was an albino, and she looked none too pleased about what had just occurred.

Getting right up into the enemy's face, she grabbed the collar of his hoodie in a threatening way, her eyes looking like what Max imagined to be the fire of hell. The girlfriend yelped quietly and took a few steps back, but the enemy seemed only calm and amused.

"Apologize," the albino hissed at him.

The enemy simply casually swore at her, and in response she tightened her grip on him.

"Let him go," the girlfriend whined at her.

"Shut it, sweetie," the albino ordered, brushing her off quickly.

The enemy wrapped his hand around her thin wrist roughly. Max was afraid he would break it. Instead, she let go of his sweater very slowly, never looking away from him. As she turned, appearing to be walking away from the scene, she glanced at Max and gave him a wink only he could see.

The enemy relaxed, which was his big mistake. He barely even heard the albino mutter softly to herself.

"An eye for an eye, a dick for an arm."

Max barely witnessed the blur that was her leg as she promptly and effortlessly pivoted and swung. There were loud groans, the shriek of a girl, and then they were gone.

Utterly confused and petrified, Max sat frozen on the hall floor for a good thirty seconds, not entirely sure what had just transpired around him. He knew he got kicked, and then a white person kicked that guy . . .

"Max!" Lucia shouted as she ran towards him. She had just come around the corner with her steaming food seconds after the commotion ended, Otto on her heels. Max lifted his head up and captured her image, but it wasn't until she was almost close enough to smother him with a million questions that he responded.

"Relax, I'm fine," he said complacently as he began to rise and stumbled slightly.

Otto glanced up and down the corridor as if to check for any further crime, noticing that only Max's defender was present. "Did she hurt you?" he signed urgently.

Max shook his head. "She drove that idiot away from me. Thanks, by the way," he added with a glance in her direction.

The albino was standing off to the side the entire time, leaning happily against the lockers like it was just another day. "You're very welcome. Hope you don't mind a girl helping you out."

"At least it wasn't Lucia," Max replied with a smile.

"I beg your pardon!" Lucia retorted, her nostrils flaring like they always did when she was cross or bossy. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Her name is Isabelle," Otto said before Isabelle could open her mouth. "She's in my English class."

"Oh yeah, mister googly-eyes. That's not European sign language, is it?" she asked, pointing at his hands.

"We made it up when he stopped talking," Max explained.

"Excuse me," Lucia butted in. "Otto and I made it up. You learned it later. Don't plagiarize."

"I had a deaf friend when I was growing up in London. I know a fair bit of sign language, so I could probably pick that up quickly," Isabelle interrupted. She locked eyes with Otto. "Want to teach me? I'll let you stare at me, since you seem to like that."

Otto shrunk into his sweater and nervously looked away.

Lucia shook her head. "We barely even know you. Now you want lessons?"

Isabelle raised her hands up in defense. "Hey, it was just a request. I like to know what people are saying when I talk to them. Communication is a two-way street, sweetie."

"Who said you would be talking to us anyway?" Lucia returned quickly.

Isabelle stiffened, letting an angry silence distill between them. "Sorry, didn't know you guys enjoy being alone."

She left before anyone could protest, a white mist in the wind.

Max shot a glare at his sister. "Oh, great job. Now we'll never have friends. Ever. That was a great chance."

Lucia snorted. "As if. Wait a week and she'll be just like the rest. Trust me. I just did us a favour."

Otto turned only his head towards her and signed very slowly, careful with each fluid motion. "You don't always know what's best, Lucia."

She opened her mouth wide to fling out another response, but shut it right after. The look her brothers were giving her was enough to keep her quiet, wondering now more than ever if she had done the right thing for them. Finally, she rolled her eyes, though not accepting defeat.

"Fine. Let's just get through the day, shall we? And let's clean up this mess before the teachers get up our arses about it."

§ § §

No matter how many angry steps she took, Isabelle could still feel the clutching pain in her mind and body. A dull itch wriggling in her core. She thought she could get rid of it, have a fresh start, but there it was again, the dragon head rearing up to face her. Her short clean curls bounced in front of her face as they loosened from behind her ears, reminding her of how she was to others. A lab rat. A ghost girl. She even actively avoided mirrors, wanting to forget what she looked like.

What she was.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she repeated. People are stupid, school is stupid, life is stupid. The staring eyes, the whispers, the conversations down the hall. She wanted it to die, she wanted to burn it all.

Isabelle halted and almost collapsed against a set of lockers, sending a clatter of metal down the empty corridor. It's not that bad, she told herself. You can do this; you don't them. You're tough. Don't show them weakness, or they'll prey on you. She rubbed the outside of her arms faster and faster, finally launching herself off again.

I'm never going to do this again, she decided. Seventeen years is enough of a chance. Marching forwards with new determination, Isabelle hardened her thoughts and continued to repeat that motivation. She barely noticed the person trying to catch up with her.

A tap on the shoulder.

A turn.

A sticky note with scribbled pen in long slender fingers.

"I'll teach you, if you still want."