Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay. They ask me to tell them how I’m feeling, or to just “let it out”. I’ve never been one to just open up, so I continue to sit in silence, staring at the floor. Nobody told me it was going to be like this. If I had known, things might have been different.
I was always a quiet kid, never one to make waves. I tended to sit at the back of the class, only half paying attention. I didn’t have friends, and didn’t think I needed them. I was fine by myself, and truly believed that I preferred solitude. I watched the others running around, yelling and playing. Too much noise for me. Too many ponies.
I never felt comfortable around others. I preferred to sit alone and think, or to read a book. For the most part, the others left me alone to my thoughts. Every once in a while the teacher would try to get me to join in with the others, but after a few awkward minutes of tag or foursquare, I would excuse myself and return to my spot under the tree, resigning myself to watch.
Eventually, everyone gave up on trying to get me to join in. It was obvious I had no interest in them. Obvious to everyone but one pony.
Nimble was an odd pony to say the least. She was always energetic, which would seem common, but that she took an interest in me was strange. I remember the day she showed up at our school. Her family had moved from Trottingham to Manehattan for work. Most children tend to be shy or unsure when they enter a new school, but not Nimble. She seemed excited for the challenge the new location had provided. She wasted no time in introducing herself to everyone in the class, and was quickly accepted.
A few days after she had begun at our school, she began talking to me. As usual, I was sitting in my favorite spot, under the oak tree. She sat down next to me, and without any introduction, began telling me about herself. Her family, her new home, everything. I was taken aback, this was the first time anyone had spoken to me for more than a moment, let alone telling me their entire life story. When she finished, she got up and began to walk away before pausing. “Oh, yeah! What’s your name?” she asked, as if the thought of an introduction had just occurred to her. “Umm… Vapor…” I replied quietly.
She walked back over to me, her head cocked to the side. “I didn’t quite catch that!” She said cheerfully.
“Vapor.” I replied more loudly.
“Stiiiill didn’t hear ya!”
“Vapor!” I nearly shouted, causing some of the others to turn and stare at me. I felt myself beginning to blush.
“Good to meetcha Vapor! Maybe next time you’ll say something too!” And with that, she walked away to join in on a game in progress, leaving me sitting under the oak tree in stunned silence, trying to understand just what had happened.
I had figured it was a one-time thing, but when she sat down next to me the next day, I realized she wasn’t going to leave me alone.
“Soooo? Are you going to say anything today, or am I going to have to do all the talking again?” She asked, a sly smile on her face.
“Why are you even bothering? Everybody else gave up ages ago.” I replied, not looking up from my book.
“I dunno. I figure anyone who thinks this much must have something interesting to say.”
This caught me off guard. I looked up toward her, her smile still wry.
“I don’t really know what to talk about. Everyone else is going on about cutie marks or what games they like. I don’t really care much about that stuff.”
“Okay, so what do you care about?”
“Well.. I umm… I like art…” I said softly.
“Art, huh? Well, let’s talk about that!”
She wasn’t going away, that much was obvious. She wanted to know about me, and I had no clue why. And yet, I found myself talking to her. We talked about famous artists, museums, and anything else that came to mind. Before long, recess was over and we had to go back to class. For the first time I could remember, I wished that I’d had more time to talk.