1. Odd speaks five languages fluently by the time he graduates from Kadic.
He likes languages, enjoys gaining the ability to talk to different people. He also enjoys the surprise on people's faces when they realize he understands what they're saying.
However, Odd's first language is Norwegian. He imagines it's probably something like a first love, it's always the one he finds he's fondest of. The no-nonsense, straightforward way of it, the musical lilt, the extra vowels, and especially the interesting curse words that can be created from it.
/
"I don't get it," Aelita groans. Odd watches as her head thunks down onto the open book on her desk. She groans again and Odd rolls his eyes. "It doesn't make sense."
"It does," he protests. He pokes her lightly in the side and snorts as she lets out another groan. "If you're going to be my cousin then you need to know Norwegian."
"Maybe I come from the non-Norwegian side?" she counters. "What about Italian? That was the other one, right?"
Odd shrugs. "We could try Italian, but I already said you were the daughter of my mor's brother, it'd be kinda awkward if suddenly you knew Italian instead. So…better practice my kusine."
Aelita sighs loudly and sits up. She runs her fingers through her pink hair and stares at the book in front of her. Odd doesn't understand why she'd purchased the workbook in the first place when she had him right next to her. But, well, whatever. She taps her pencil against the pages and stares at the words again.
"Okay. You would be my fee-t-air?"
"Fetter, short vowel." Aelita frowns at the workbook and makes a note.
"I give up."
"Look, this isn't always the case, but it's better than nothing. If the vowel is followed by one consonant then it's a long sound and if it's a double consonant then it's short." He reaches over and closes the workbook. "That isn't working. Babies don't learn to talk by reading."
Aelita sighs and twists in her chair to study him. "Alright, we'll try it your way."
Odd grins brightly, rubbing his hands together. "Excellent. Don't look so scared, we'll start simple."
Aelita still looks dubious, but Odd feels pretty confident. He's been speaking Norwegian his entire life, how hard could it be to teach someone else how to speak it? And Aelita's smart, it's not like he's trying to teach Sissi after all.
. . … . .
Odd is five the first time they visit Italy. It's his first time on an airplane, which is awesome, and his first experience with his Nonna's cooking, which he eats himself sick on more than once. His father's side of the family is large, larger even than their own family, and it seems like he's constantly being introduced to cousins and aunts and uncles, none of who he can understand.
"That's because they're speaking Italian," Adele states when he asks her about it. She's lying out on the patio, taking in the warm Italian sun.
"What's that?"
"The language they speak." Adele slides her cherry-red sunglasses down her nose so that she can stare at him. "We speak Norwegian, they speak Italian, duh. Now move, I'm trying to tan."
Odd shuffles to the side and listens to his aunts and uncles and cousins yammering away inside his Nonna's house. "But Pappa speaks Norwegian."
Adele groans loudly and slides her sunglasses back up to the bridge of her nose. "People can speak more than one language, idiot. Go bother Pauline or Louise."
Odd scowls at his eldest sister and sticks his tongue out at her. She remains unmoved.
/
They spend a month in Italy. His father is performing at the local opera house and his mother spends the days taking him and his sisters to different historical sites around the city. Odd's feet ache and his ears and eyes are constantly barraged with Italian words. In the evening they all gather at his Nonna's house for supper and the adults talk loudly while they drink wine.
He spends the time after dinner playing with his younger cousins. They laugh at his accent and teach him simple words and phrases. His sisters stick together mostly, or chat with the older cousins in the English they learned in school. Odd finds that he likes Italian though, enjoys the funny sounds and harsher consonants. He practices the words softly to himself as he falls asleep each night, until Marie hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut-up.
By the end of their stay he's able to actually communicate and not just parrot words.
/
"Pappa?"
"Yes, Odd?"
"I wanna learn Italian." He yawns, snuggling into his pillow and under his quilt. His father pats his back soothingly. "Teach me?"
"Of course, cucciolo. Now, go to sleep."
"In Italian, Pappa."
"Vai a dormire adesso."
Odd nods, already drifting off.
. . … . .
Pauline is hovering over him. He lifts his head and raises his eyebrows at her curiously. "What?" he asks.
"Why French?" She takes a seat at the table next to him and peers curiously at the book he'd picked up at the library earlier. "You're already studying English, and Pappa's taught you Italian…why French now?"
Odd shrugs. "It sounds fun. I like that the letters are slippery."
"Slippery?" Pauline laughs. "Half of them hide in plain sight." She pulls the book away from him, ignoring his protests. She flips through some of the pages, carefully keeping a finger on the page he'd been studying. "You know you'll get to study a language in lower secondary, right? That's only three years away."
Odd shrugs again. "Yeah, but I want to study it now. Give it back."
Pauline slides the book back and Odd focuses on the page again. He's having a harder time with French, it's not like Italian was and he isn't sure if he's pronouncing the words correctly half of the time. "Maybe you could ask Mamma to get you a tutor," she states finally.
/
Louise is still giving him the silent treatment two weeks after the dye washed out. Odd thinks it's a little dramatic, even for her. He'd only replaced her shampoo with green dye, it's not like he'd done her teeth again. Still, it's a surprise when he comes home from school to find both his parents waiting for him in the dining room.
"What is it?" he asks, looking between them.
"Sit down, Odd," his mother says.
She's still in her overalls, bits of paint and dry clay clinging to the material, and her magenta-streaked hair is pulled back in a messy knot. Odd takes a seat at the table and looks between his parents. His sisters are mysteriously absent.
"If this is about the toothpaste-glue…"
"It isn't," his father interrupts, "though we'll discuss that as well."
"Odd, how many times have we told you not to dye Louise green?"
Odd shrugs. "What can I say, green is her color?"
His mother sighs loudly, but he can also see the smile she's suppressing. Louise may claim to favor blue, but she's an Elphaba through-and-through and he knows others see it too. He shrugs again.
"Your father and I have discussed this at length, Odd. We think this is for the best."
She slides a pamphlet across the table. He looks down at it curiously, flipping it open. It's some type of school in…
"France? You're sending me away?" He stares at his parents, open-mouthed in shock. "Because I changed out Louise's shampoo?"
His parents exchange a look. Odd hates when they do that. "It's not just that," his father states. "The pranks at school, the incident with Marie's hair dryer-"
"I apologized for that! I didn't realize it'd catch fire!"
"Odd," his mother says. She reaches across the table and takes his hand in hers. Her fingernails are cray from the clay she was working with. "You need more structure, more challenge. You are a bright, creative soul."
"Besides," his father adds, "you always wanted to learn French."
Odd stares at the pamphlet in front of him. "Yeah, but I don't know French. How am I supposed to pass?"
"It's an international school. You'll be fine. You'll get to meet people from all over the world." His mother squeezes his hand. "We can reevaluate after you've settled in there." She squeezes his hand again. "This isn't a punishment, this is a chance."
Odd pushes away from the table and heads outside into the garden, Kiwi trailing behind him. He isn't angry, but he is still in shock. He's never known his parents to send his sisters away for fighting too much. He frowns, collapsing onto the ground and tossing a ball for Kiwi to chase.
"Guess it wasn't so stupid for you to study French after all." He looks up to see Pauling silhouetted against the afternoon sun. She has on the neon orange shirt he always teases her for and her dirty blonde hair is in a loose braid. "You okay, little brother?"
"You heard, eh?"
"We all did," Pauline agrees. She takes a seat on the ground, reaches over to scratch Kiwi behind the ears when he returns with the ball. "You know this means only Elisabeth, Marie, and Louise will be at home now."
"The horror," Odd snorts. Pauline nudges him lightly with her elbow, messing up the next toss he throws. "It could be cool," he comments. "I wouldn't be surrounded by sisters."
"No, you won't," Pauline agrees. "You're going to be a menace, I can just see it."
Odd grins, flopping back onto the grass and folding his arms behind his head. "I ever tell you that shirt is blindingly radioactive?"
"Hold kjeft," she laughs.
. . … . .
Odd is six when he begins to learn English in primary school. He doesn't think much of it at first, just another subject he's forced to take. But, he finds that he's able to pick it up fairly quickly, and better yet, he's able to watch movies that aren't dubbed. Louise complains through all seven years of English study and Odd may enjoy the fact that he's better at it than she is more than he should be.
. . … . .
"Guten Tag mein lieber Ulrich!" Odd greets brightly. Ulrich stares at him and Odd isn't quite sure how to interpret his roommate's expression. "What? Did I strike you mute with my perfect pronunciation of your native tongue?"
Ulrich shakes his head, the surprised look disappearing from his face. "Your accent is terrible," he says finally. "You sound like a robo-call."
Odd rolls his eyes, sticks his tongue out. "See if I try to make you feel more at home again," he complains. He falls back onto his bed and scratches Kiwi behind the ears in apology for jostling him. "And here I was, trying to be a good friend."
Ulrich snorts and tosses his sweaty jersey at Odd's head. Odd grunts, tossing it onto the floor. "Stop being dramatic," Ulrich replies.
/
Despite Ulrich's initial dismissal, Odd finds himself attempting to learn German anyway. It's not a terribly difficult language to learn, what with it being fairly phonetic. And, he learns to ignore Ulrich's laughter at his accent. His friend's an ass anyway.
"Lass uns heute Abend ein Spiel spielen," Odd states.
"What?" Jeremie asks, looking up and blinking.
"He wants to play a game tonight," Ulrich states. He doesn't look up from where he's rifling through his backpack, searching for his chemistry report.
"Oh, is that what he said?" Jeremie questions. He shrugs and looks back at his notebook where he's working on the materialization code. "Yeah, alright."
"Yes!" Odd chirps. He elbows Ulrich. "You in?"
"As long as you don't attempt anymore German."
Odd snorts. "You love it when I embrace your weird culture."
Ulrich just shakes his head, finally pulling his lab report from his bag and attempting to smooth out the crinkles in the paper. "Uh huh."
/
"Alright," Ulrich states. Odd looks up from where he's watching Titanic in German on his computer. Somehow the movie is much funnier in German and he has to stifle his laughter so he doesn't come across as a complete ass.
"Alright?"
"Alright," Ulrich says again. He isn't looking at Odd, instead he's staring up at the ceiling. Odd frowns at his friend.
"Ulrich, ol' buddy, ol' pal, if I'm supposed to know what you're talking about, I'm sorry to disappoint. Care to enlighten the class what you and the ceiling have decided on, Ulrich-dear?"
"Don't be an asshole, idiot." Odd rolls his eyes. "I just mean, if you're going to insist on learning German, alright. I'll teach you, if you want."
Odd blinks at the other boy in surprise. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Odd considers before shrugging. "Yeah, alright," he agrees.
"Maybe we can get you to sound like an actual human."
Odd reaches down, grabs one of his shoes, and hurls it in Ulrich's direction. His roommate and supposed friend can be a real asshole sometimes.
/
"Admit it," Odd pants, "you like it when I speak German." Ulrich rolls his eyes, and Odd grins brightly. "You do!"
"It's…grown on me," Ulrich grumbles.
Odd laughs and leans in to trail his mouth over Ulrich's exposed throat. "Yeah, and when did it start growing on you?"
"Scheiße, Odd," Ulrich groans. His hands settle on Odd's hips, drag him closer.
"Uh uh. I want to know how long." He presses closer, bites at Ulrich's collarbone. Ulrich's grip tightens momentarily and then he sighs, tilts his head back further. Odd lets his fingers graze the bare skin of Ulrich's abdomen, enjoys the shiver he feels under the other boy's skin. "Wie lange Ulrich?"
"Since the first one. Even though you sounded like a fucking telephone robot, it was hot. Now stop teasing."
"As you wish, Bärchen."
"Odd," Ulrich states, voice a low growl, "shut-up."
Odd can't help but grin as Ulrich flips them, pins him down against the mattress. He thinks about Ulrich's response. He wishes he'd known back when they were still at Kadic. He would have taken studying German a lot more seriously then.
Translations:
Italian:
Vai a dormire adesso - Go to sleep now
cucciolo - Little puppy
Norwegian:
Mor - mother
kusine - (Female) cousin
Fetter - (Male) cousin
Hold kjeft - Shut-up
German:
Guten Tag mein lieber Ulrich - Hello, my dear Ulrich
Lass uns heute Abend ein Spiel spielen - Let's play a game tonight
Wie lange - How long
Scheiße - Shit
Bärchen - Little bear