Paper Cranes

Part One

I’m dumb. Not the stupid kind of dumb. The I-can’t-talk-because-my-voice-doesn’t-work-and-nobody-knows-why kind of dumb. And that prevents me making friends. If anyone who’s talkative enough to be able to hold a conversation entirely one-sidedly, then sure, that might work. But would you approach that weird dark-eyed anorexic girl who sits alone in the corner of the library? No? Exactly. That’s what everyone else thinks.

I mean, I’m used to it. So used to it in fact, that when someone actually does come near me, I probably scare them off with my intense staring. The library became my haven. I would sit and indulge myself in books, because those worlds of elves and witches and hobbits, were all so much better than the world that constantly tried to interrupt my reading. Reading was all I knew. The library staff were all rejects, the dorks and fat kids that nobody liked. Probably because they too preferred The Shire to school. Partly because of that, and partly because nobody could beat them up while Miss Caulfield was watching.

People come and go in the library. Since my eyes are the only things that actually work properly, I have a mental log of current students. But, as I said, they disappear as quickly as they come. When Casper Ardvan showed up, I dismissed him to be the average rejected, dorky and/or friendless seeking-asylum-in-the-library student. But the moment he sat directly across from the weird, silent anorexic girl who sits alone in the corner of the library, I knew I was very wrong.

He asked me if I had any paper. I looked around the side of his head to see where the stack of paper was, but quickly remembered that there’s never any paper in here. Miss Caulfield doesn’t understand the concept of replacing things that have been used. Maybe she hates spending money. I pulled my notepad from my old rucksack and opened it on the desk, carefully watching him. I tore out a page and gave it to him, leaving the notebook to the side in case he needed more. He said thanks, and then gave me a look that seemed to ask me to watch him. Perhaps that was just my imagination.

As Casper aligned the paper straight, I looked at his face. He stuck his tongue out a little when he was concentrating, and if I had a voice, I might’ve let out a giggle. I looked down at his fingers. They looked delicate yet his movements were masterful, like he had done this thing many, many times. My eyes fell onto the paper, and I watched as Casper folded it in half, then diagonally, then in all kinds of interesting ways. I didn’t realise I was gawping. Casper laughed, a warm and inviting sound, a sound that was directed at me.

He held it out to me, and I took it very gently. I put it on the desk in front of me and titled my head, wondering what exactly it was. Upon seeing my facial expression, Casper said happily, “It’s a crane. A paper crane.”

I smiled and nodded. The school bell called us to our next classes, and Casper stood up before me. He told me to keep the origami crane and dashed out of the room, slinging his tricolour bag over his shoulder as he left. Maybe at this point, Casper would have thought I was just too shy to speak. Either way, it felt good being treated normally. I hoped he would return to the library the next day. And sure enough, he did.

He arrived just a few minutes after me. He kicked his bag under the table and took a seat opposite me. The conversation went just as before. He asked for a piece of paper. I obliged. He took a few minutes and carefully made a pretty paper crane. He showed me like before, but then he said, “Can you do any origami?”

I shook my head, no. He went quiet for a minute, then replied, “Do you want to?”

I thought for a moment, then nodded tentatively.

“Right!” Casper sounded quite proud of himself. He walked around to my side of the table and sat beside me. I pulled out two sheets of paper and gave one to him. He folded it in half.

I folded in half. He folded again. I folded again. I followed his every moment for the next few minutes, and eventually, came out with a wonky, please-kill-me-looking paper crane. Despite this, I was happy that I’d actually managed to make something. I was never very creative. And, I guess I was a little bit pleased that Casper had chosen to sit close to me.