Monday, Tuesday
Otto didn't go to school on Monday or Tuesday. The swelling went down, but the bruises still hurt when he put his nose casing on. He managed to take some naps on the couch while Mrs. Monet watched over him. Sleeping at night wasn't working.
Ruskin came by to visit each afternoon. Otto wasn't so happy about seeing him. He had too much of a headache to play video games and he didn't want to hear one more word about rogue anomalies in school. Ruskin tried not to be a bother. He brought Otto his homework and said that he had seen Lancret around. “She was asking about you at lunch,” He said. “She wanted to know what happened. I would like to know too.”
Otto sighed and told him the story.
“Oh man! That's crazy! Why didn't you just wait until he was gone to deal with the casing?”
“I don't know, Ruskin. It's hard to think straight when someone is threatening you with a gun.”
“Sorry. That's crazy, though. Can I tell Lancret?”
“Sure. Why not. Everyone will be wanting to know when I get back, anyway. Might as well get the gossip out.” Otto thought about how Reinhardt was harassed over his bruises. He wasn't looking forward to that kind of treatment. The thought of everyone in school looking at him, talking to him, and pestering him for the same story was starting to cause a twinge of panic to run through him. All of his worst nightmares were piling into reality in one big heap.
Nurse Vickers came by to visit on Tuesday afternoon. Otto was too tired to feel resentful, so he just laid on the couch and listened to her talk to Mrs. Monet.
“I talked to your husband yesterday,” said Nurse Vickers. “He told me about the discussion you two had on Sunday.”
“Please tell me you don't agree with him,” said Mrs. Monet.
“My life is based on hope. Your husband believes that since no one has been through life without pressing their nose-button, that Otto wont make it. I see it as an opportunity for Otto to set a precedent. Just because it hasn't been done before, doesn't mean it can't be done. And not everyone's life is documented, so who really knows? I choose to hope for the best.”
Otto got up and walked softly into the kitchen where the two ladies were sitting at the breakfast table. This time, Nurse Vickers's nose-button was mauve. It brought out the mauve color rosettes in her skirt. At her feet was a large, cloth bag. Inside, Otto could see her nurse scrubs. She had either just gotten off of work or was on her way to work where ever it was that she stole babies from. “What do you mean he doesn't think I can make it?”
The two looked up in shock.
“I'm so sorry, Otto, I thought you were upstairs. It's not that your father doubts you--”
“He's not my father,” Otto interrupted.
“Right. Foster father. It's not that he doubts you, Otto. It's that he doubts the world around you.”
“What does he want to do?” Otto sat down with them.
“I don't think he knows what he wants,” said the nurse. “He's just been worried sick about you.”
“About me? Or about everyone else?”
“It's all inclusive.”
“So why are you here?”
“I came to talk to your mother--”
“Foster mother.”
“Right. I came to talk to your foster mother about her take on all of this.”
Otto and Nurse Vickers turned their heads to look at Mrs. Monet.
“I agree with what you just said, Clara. I think Otto will be just fine. I have hope that he will.” She shined a loving smile over at Otto.
“Good.” Nurse Vickers stood up. “I need to go. I'll talk to Claude.” She locked eyes with Otto. “You're going to be ok, Otto. And you too, Camille. Just let me take care of this.”
Wednesday
Otto went to school on Wednesday. As soon as he agreed to, he wished he hadn't. But now wasn't the time to act worried around Mr. Monet. Otto had to show him that he was confident and could handle the world around him. So he put himself together and jumped in the car with Ruskin before he could talk himself out of it. The nose casing hurt his face, but eventually the pain subsided into a sort of numbness that he learned to ignore. It reminded him of the time the kid on the bus snapped his nose casing. Otto kept a few pain killer pills in his pocket for the inevitable headaches that would plague him throughout the day.
As predicted, Otto became the center of attention in class as well as the hallways. Reinhardt passed him a sympathetic look, but seemed grateful that someone else was being harassed instead of him. Lancret offered her nose-button, but Otto thought that feeling happy seemed like exhausting work, so he declined. He took a cue from Reinhardt: he laid his head down on his desk and didn't answer anyone.
Hallways were terrifying. There were those that noticed him and gawked or teased. A freshman raised his hand as if to hit the casing, but slipped past with only a laugh. Then there were those that didn't notice Otto. They were even worse, pushing past to get where they were headed. Their shoulders, books, and bags came dangerously close to Otto's sore face. For the first time, Otto realized that he was below average height—not by a lot, just enough to feel like he was drowning in the waves of bodies.
At lunch, Otto sat down heavily and put his forehead on the edge of the table. It felt good to curl up in a protective arch. For a moment, the world was closed out. He felt safe and alone. Then his face started throbbing. Otto raised his head, swallowed some pills and spent the rest of lunch with his head propped up on his arm and nibbling at a piece of pizza.
Ruskin came to sit across from him, slightly offended that Otto hadn't waited for him. “Rough day?” He asked.
“You have no idea.”
Lancret stopped by to check up on Otto. She set her tray down and took a seat next to him. “You're still allowed to push my button if you want to. I don't know why you wouldn't. It'll make you feel so much better!”
“Does it take away pain?” Otto said acidly.
“Well, no, but--”
“Does it make people leave me alone?”
Lancret looked hurt. Her emotions spilled out on her face like water from a knocked over glass. Her eyes became glassy and she turned away to look down at her food.
Otto felt bad. He never wanted to hurt Lancret. She was nice to him. Hell, she was nicer to him than Ruskin—and nowhere near as annoying. But he did not have enough energy to apologize. He barely had enough energy to raise food to his mouth. So he said nothing.
“Don't mind Otto, he's had a rough day,” said Ruskin.
“I know that,” said Lancret, holding back tears, “I'm trying to help him.”
“You can help me,” said Ruskin. He gave her a wink and a smile.
Lancret gave him a cold look. Then stood up, picked up her tray, and walked off.
“Good job, man. You just ran off the one girl that's ever noticed you,” Ruskin said to Otto.
Reinhardt stopped by the table at the end of lunch. He gave Otto a clap on the back and said, “Sorry about what happened to you, man. I know how you feel. That nose casing's gotta hurt.”
Otto tried to smile, but his face didn't move. He was becoming more exhausted by the minute. There was no way he was going to make it to the end of the day. At least not without help.
The bell rang for class. Otto looked around the lunchroom as everyone stood up at once and started clamoring towards the door, dumping their trays on their way out. Ruskin got up and waited for Otto to walk with him. Otto walked out hurriedly, not knowing if Ruskin was still with him or not. He searched the hallway for Lancret, but didn't see her. In the courtyard he caught a glimpse of blonde hair that looked familiar and started following it.
By the time he got to where he was going, he was at the door of the music hall. He pushed his way inside and saw Lancret pulling out sheets of music from her bag. She still looked a little upset over what had happened.
Otto walked up to her, mentally blocking out the people who were staring and whispering around him. The room was huge and full of people getting ready for choir. If he let himself think about what was going on around him, he'd probably break down into a panic attack. It was all too new and big and crowded for him to handle.
“Lancret, I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Can I push your button?” Otto spoke as fast as he could, not waiting for her to notice him first. He wanted to get this over with and get out of there.
She looked up at him with surprise. “You followed me to class?”
“I tried catching you in the hallway. Do you forgive me? Can I push your button?” Otto was starting to regret coming in at all. The late bell rang. He was on the opposite end of school from where he should be. Lancret was looking at him in shock. The class was looking at him like he was crazy. Otto began sweating. He was about ready to run when Lancret finally shined a smile at him.
“Yes! You can push my button!” The thought made her beam with happiness.
Otto sighed with relief. He was still sweating. The class was all looking at them now. The teacher narrowed her eyes at the intruding student. But before any of this could bother him further, he reached out and pressed Lancret's button.
Otto had never pressed anyone's button before. When he was younger he had always been afraid that if he pushed someone else's they'd want to push his. In high school, it had never come up. He was never allowed to push his foster father's button because of what it could do; and he never wanted to push his foster mother's button. He didn't even like it when she pushed her button.
Lancret's pink button went in with a soft click and popped back up with the same motion. By the time he pulled his finger away, Otto felt much better. Lancret was still beaming. Her warmth and happiness had spread into him, but nothing had been taken away from her.
Otto was fully aware of the people around him, the size of the room, and the fact that he was late for class and probably going to be in trouble. But none of that bothered him anymore. He felt no panic or fear. His hands had stopped sweating. He smiled at Lancret with the best smile that a sore face and restricting nose casing could allow. Then he thanked her, gave her a quick hug, and ran out of the music hall before the choir teacher could stop him. “I wonder if she'd let me do this every day,” he thought as he bounced happily across the court yard to his own class.