Sophia fascinates as equally as Carter interacting with Sophia fascinates me.

***********************************

Sophia disliked prolonged message conversations filled with redundant questions that were formed from a lack of understanding. For this reason, she stood by Harrison's car, waiting. Misunderstanding could be avoided with direct communication.

Around her, she heard discordant conversations, words without context filling her ears. But as she stood there, she wondered if she'd even truly know what the students were talking about if she heard every word.

Or was she...

Sophia dismissed the word before it entered her mind. It was a word. Words were meant for communication and nothing else. They did not hold physical weight. They could not be used as something that caused harm since they were merely sound waves transferred through the air.

"Honestly," Kennedy said, somewhere among the parked cars. "If we get another pop quiz, I'm going to lose it."

"You're so hot headed I feel like you should have lost it ages ago," Harrison said.

The pair appeared and Sophia gathered her thoughts together.

Kennedy punched Harrison's arm. Something Sophia knew she did quite frequently and didn't know how Harrison didn't have a permeant bruise from the repeated offense.

"Ready to go?" Kennedy asked Sophia.

"I wanted to let you know that you can go home without me. I'm going to the museum and will take the metro home."

Kennedy and Harrison exchanged a look. It was a look that Sophia had seen countless times but every time she saw it she couldn't make sense of it. She knew what the look was, it was an exchange of thoughts but one that didn't need to be voiced. But how did they do that? How could they possibly know what the other person was thinking at the very moment? They'd known each other all their lives, but that held true for Sophia. They'd been constants in her life same as her parents, why didn't she share that same link of thoughts that they did?

Why was she-

Again, Sophia halted the word before it could form. It was only a word.

"We can come with you," Kennedy said.

"Yeah, I could use some cultural stimulation," Harrison said.

Sophia knew these responses came from their shared look but didn't know how. But maybe that was what happened when you connected with someone beyond a friend connection. When the feelings you held went deeper. Even if the feelings they shared, they both denied.

"No thank you," Sophia said. "I'd prefer to be alone."

Without further discussion, Sophia walked away. Neither Harrison nor Kennedy followed her. She felt grateful, reiterating her boundaries always tired her. But it was something she seemed to have to do in school over and over again. Why simple requests couldn't be respected baffled and aggravated her. If someone told you what they wanted, why would someone do the exact opposite? People would say one thing and do another.

Sophia knew the world would function more efficiently if people's words and actioned aligned?  She knew from observation within her family. Her parents laid down rules and when followed life proceeded easily. When she felt the rules were unwarranted she'd discuss it with her parents. Often times she found their reasoning made sense.

But in high school it was...chaos. Someone would want to befriend her but their friendship wasn't friendship in the way she knew it with Harrison and Kennedy instead it was something with a hidden agenda. She was supposed to be something to that person that she always failed to be. And the frustrating part was that she often didn't understand what she'd supposed to be. Why were people so vastly irritating to her?

As Sophia walked into the Air and Space museum, she found she could put aside her mental displeasure with the human race. Here the world was simple. Lives and knowledge were conveyed in orderly fashion with no complication. Successes were told in basic facts, with no tangled emotions attached.

Sophia found an empty area and slowly made her way from one display to the next. She relaxed  as she read. Guides showed groups about, families congregated together around plaques, lone tourist wandered. Sophia felt detached from the other people around her, it was enough to connect with the people that were already gone, having left their mark on the world for her to read about.

Sophia stopped in a small wing, reading the display for the Wright brothers. Men who dared to dream of a reality others only had dreams about.

"Hey."

The male voice intruded on Sophia's solitude but she didn't respond. Who would talk to her here?

"Are you on a mandatory trip like I am?"

Sophia finally looked to her side and found a boy in his mid-teens with tousled hair and symmetrical features watching her. He wore a smile. Though Sophia knew logically it didn't make sense, she felt frustrated with her parents. Why had it been necessary for them to pass on their genes to her? And in a way that made strangers, specifically boys, come up and talk to her. Yes, that frustration made no sense, she knew that. But still, she felt frustrated and her looks came from her parents.

"Why do people even come to museums?" the boy mused. "I mean we can read about all this crap online, you know."

Communication. Her father said words could take care of 85% of situations. Sophia knew she could handle 90% of them with perfectly chosen words. Her mother told her that 60% of those words shouldn't be the solution. It meant Sophia constantly had to find a medium when it came to her words.

"I don't find museums pointless," Sophia said. "I'm here of my own free will. With such opposing view points I think this conversation is best ended here."

Despite the clear reasoning Sophia laid out, the boy didn't leave. In fact, his smile widened.

"Smart and beautiful," he said. "That seems unfair to the rest of the world."

Sophia didn't care what was unfair to the world. Right then it felt unfair to her to possess both qualities.

"I understand that you are attracted to me," Sophia said. "But that feeling is not reciprocated and I would go as far to say that I find your continued intrusion in my life to be a nuisance. I'd prefer it if you left please."

Even as she spoke, Sophia knew the type of look she'd received. It was one she received many times. It was a look that, despite being the one who's solitude had been invaded, made her feel like she was the perpetrator and not the victim. But she hadn't asked for his attention, why did she feel bad?

The boy left her and Sophia remained planted before the Wright Brothers' display. The comfort she'd found in the museum felt like it had been stolen away. Was that her doing or the boy's?

"You know, I always imagined that the Wright Brothers must have felt out of place a lot of their lives," Carter said. "They dared to think of a reality that others thought impossible. Most likely insane."

Sophia didn't say anything but the words brought back the comfort she'd thought she'd lost. Carter understood.

"Which number of call were you?" Sophia asked.

"Third," Carter said.

Sophia nodded. Denying Harrison and Kennedy's offer of company hadn't meant the issue was ended. They had merely chosen to alert someone else.

"That makes sense," Sophia said. "Mama's in the middle of a big project and Father is dealing with a hacker."

"What brought you to the museum?" Carter asked.

"A word."

Sophia felt grateful when Carter didn't give her a strange look at her answer. In fact, she nodded in a thoughtful and understanding way. Sometimes the way Carter seemed to grasp what Sophia thought or meant when others didn't, surprised her. It also made her feel like she wasn't completely alone.

"Do you want to tell me the word?" Carter asked.

Sophia hesitated. But in not sharing the word she felt it would be giving it power, as if it were something that was too shameful to share. But it was a word. It didn't have power.

"Alien," she said. "A girl called me an alien."

"And what does that mean to you?" Carter asked.

"It means what I believe the girl intended it to mean. I'm not part of this world. I don't belong here. I should leave. I'm an intruder. I'm so foreign that I'm not accepted by anyone around me. I'm not human."

"I see," Carter said. "Can I ask you something about the girl who said this to you?"

"Yes."

"What type of student do you believe this girl to be?"

"C average if I had to guess. She fails to take comprehensive notes and when we do in-class projects she often fails to thoroughly complete tasks."

"I'm going to tell you something then," Carter said. "I believe you thought deeper about her insult than she even thought."

"You think so?"

"I do," Carter said. "You can still feel hurt by it, it was said with hurtful intent. But I don't think you need to feel the weight of all that you think it implies."

"You don't think I'm an alien?"

"No, I don't. I think you are a brilliant, unique person that surpasses most students and who others struggle to understand. I believe that their failure to do so makes them lash out at you."

Sophia nodded. Carter laid out solid reasons. Reasons that Sophia felt she could agree with. With that new view, the word lost the sting it had inflicted. It reverted back to its true form of sound wave on the air, harmless.

"Do you want to walk around the museum with me?" Sophia asked.

"I do. Do you want to talk?"

"No thank you. I'd prefer silence."

"Okay."

******

When Sophia and Carter reached Sophia's house, Sophia saw lights on inside. The front door opened, reveling her mother.

"Hey mija," her mother said, gently.

Her mother didn't rush down the stairs and embrace her, she simply stood there. Sophia loved her mother. She loved that her emotions didn't get the better of her and overwhelm Sophia. Too many times her abuela attacked Sophia with her affection. Though Sophia knew it came from love and most times worry, it felt suffocating.

"Thank you, Carter," Sophia said.

"I haven't had a day at the museum in years, it was nice. Thanks for letting me tag along. Night, Yvette."

She waved to Sophia's mother who nodded back. Again, Sophia knew she was watching a silent exchange of thoughts. But she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she climbed the stairs and let her mother wrap her arm around her shoulders.

"I'm hungry for ice cream," her mother said. "Ice cream fixes everything."

"I don't believe that's true."

"No, but it definitely makes life better."

With spoons and a carton of ice cream, Yvette led Sophia to their living room. Sophia copied her mother's pose and tucked her feet under her.

"What's on your mind?" Yvette asked, holding out the carton of ice cream.

"I think I want to shave my head."

"Is that so? What is the reason behind that?"

"I think it will make less people approach me."

Yvette studied Sophia. When her mother looked at her like she was, Sophia almost felt like one of her mother's projects. She seemed to see not only the complex equations that created her but also the entirety of who she was as a person. Every time, Sophia felt warmed from the inside. Her mother looked at her and saw her. She looked at her like Sophia wished everyone else would.

"Come here," Yvette said, setting the ice cream aside and opening her arms.

Sophia crawled into her mother's arms, getting wrapped in her softness, warmth, and scent of perfume.

"Legs," Yvette said.

Sophia curled her legs and her mother draped hers over them. Sophia was double cuddled. Yvette kissed Sophia's head and brushed her hair.

"Do you want my honest opinion about you shaving your head?" Yvette asked.

"Yes."

"I think you are too beautiful that even without your hair, you'd still draw attention."

"All right."

Sophia trusted her mother's intelligence. Sophia hadn't been excited about the idea of shaving her head but it was an option that she felt needed to be fully considered.

"Can you tell me what the person said to you?" her mother asked softly.

"She called me an alien," Sophia said. "Carter explained why the insult was less than what I believed it to be. But a week ago I asked Father if I was strange and he told me yes. I thought maybe it was another level of strangeness."

Her mother let out a breath. "I could murder your father."

"Saying that means I'd have to testify against you in court if you ever did."

Yvette laughed and Sophia smiled as she felt it.

"Fine, I won't kill your father. But you need to know you're not strange. You're unique."

"Carter used the same word."

"And she'd right. She's as smart as you, so even if you don't believe me, believe her."

Sophia found that with her mother's statement reenforced by Carter's that it made it feel more solid. Not strange. Unique. But where those two terms the same, simply seen from a different angle?

The front door opened and a moment later her father walked into the living room. He eyed their position and sat down on the coffee table next to them.

"The double cuddle," he said. "What idiot did you have to interact with today?"

"One that called me an alien," Sophia said.

Mason went from amiable expression to hard lines in a blink. Though her father said nothing, Sophia felt the full force of his emotions. Yvette reached out and touched his leg.

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart," she said.

It always amazed Sophia to see how her mother's touch and voice could calm down her father's emotions. Maybe it was the same as when Harrison and Kennedy shared silent thoughts. Maybe it was that connection again that people shared when they loved each other.

"Does this idiot have a name?" Mason asked.

"No, she doesn't," Yvette said before Sophia could give it. "Though I do know of one idiot who has a name." She lifted her eyebrows. "An idiot that told our daughter she was strange."

Sophia smiled as her father naturally fell back into his easy manner.

"That idiot was me," he said. "Why would I deny one of the best parts of my daughter? Others use strange as a negative word. I believe it is what makes her wonderful. I wish I were as strange as her, I regret that I'm not. The whole world regrets it to, that's why they say stupid things."

"Unique is a better word," Yvette said.

"No, unique is a pathetic word. Everyone could call themselves unique and think it makes them different. Show me someone strange and I'll show you how that person is going to change the world."

Sophia snuggled closer to her mother as she listened to her parents discuss the merits of word choice. But Sophia didn't mind.

To her father she was strange, a word that wasn't negative in his eyes but a high compliment.

To Carter and her mother she was unique, set apart from the world in a good way.

She'd been wrong, words did hold weight but she understood now that she could decide what weight they held.

************************************************************************

Hello my little pumpkin patch!

As always requested, thoughts please! 💬🗯💭☺️

*bangs gavel* ORDER! I will have order in this court! *bangs gavel again*

Good. Everyone is settled. Now. The prosecution is bringing forth the case for the merits of 'unique' being the best word in describing someone. The defense fights for 'strange'. Proceed with your arguments and the court shall decide.

🙋‍♀️ All for 'Unique'

🙋‍♀️All for 'Strange'

What am I doing?

*sets down gavel* I'm not totally sure, I just felt like banging the gavel and figured I should have some reason...

Which I don't. So...

You can ignore me. Which probably would be best, I find with the more attention I get the more weird I become. And can anyone really handle that? I don't think so.

*hands my gavel to you* A present for you. Handle it wisely.

Vote, comment, follow but only if you think that bunnies are the cutest!

Ha! Not bunnies but lions. I did a little switch-a-roo on you!