Oddball

In more ways than one, everyone suffers from poverty. Not the kind where material
possessions are insufficient. Where dinner barely covered the dining table, wearing a pair of
shoes despite your toes still touching the floor. No, it wasn’t that kind. It was poverty in the
mind. As father had put it, “the state of being inferior.” At the time, the whirring engines of the
plane cut out the rest of what he said after that. Moving to the States from Hong Kong, it didn’t
affect me. The only considerable change was the new house. A place where it was often rainy.

Like a rehearsal, the same sounds repeated. Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Thump. Thump.
Yin pulled the covers over his head, growing impatient with the repetitive sounds. Pitter patter.
Pitter patter. Thump. Thump. He let out a dramatic groan as he left the warmth of his blanket to
get up. Grasping the edge of the windowsill then onto his tiptoes, Yin caught a glimpse of his
older brother’s back. Soaking, his shirt clinged to his body, unflattering his small frame. He
could only guess what frustrated the other to have him outside so early in the morning. Reaching
as far his arm would allow, his knuckles bumped the cool glass several times, hoping to catch his
sibling’s attention.
After a moment of silence, a sudden musty stench had Yin crinkle his nose, making its
way to the spare room door where the boy waited. “Han, you smell like a wet dog.” he frowned,
plugging his nose and waving his hand around dramatically towards his brother as he walked in.
Awaiting for the sarcastic comeback that never came, Yin watched as Han simply gave a sound
of acknowledgement and closed the door behind him. He gently placed a wet basketball onto the
table in the center of the room, wetting the matted carpet as he moved. The younger boy could
easily tell something was off, deciding against lecturing the other for wetting the furniture.
Before Yin could ask, he pointed at his brother’s ruined shirt, his tired eyes widening in
realization. “Why would you wear that?” Yin blurted, “I thought you loved that shirt.” The vivid
patterns of sports celebrities had melted into the white fabric, staining it various colors. Hard-
earned signatures turned into dark splotches, the original design looking unrecognizable now.
“It’s alright,” Han finally spoke, forcibly grinning. Convinced otherwise, Yin puffed his
cheeks and crossed his arms to show distress. It was an obvious bluff, the boy knew better than
that. Han and himself had spent years getting that shirt signed. Waking up at forbidden times just
for a chance to catch an athlete’s attention. Oftentimes failing due to the thousands of other
people trying the same thing. Before Han could dismiss himself to shower, Yin pulled at his
brother’s shirt. His first instinct was to grimace at touching the dirty fabric, but quickly pushed
the thought away and composed himself more casually.
“Can I come to your first practice tomorrow?” It became uncomfortably quiet. The
brother’s were at a standstill, Yin awaiting a reply in the ominous situation. The pursuing rain
became more audible now, batting against the window furiously, trying to break the odd silence.
After a few heartbeats of confusion Yin finally understood. There would be no first practice for
Han.

“What happened?” Yin spoke nervously, looking up at his brother’s drooped shoulders.

Han let out a sad chuckle, “I was just the oddball, I guess.” He pulled away from his
brother’s grasp, closing the door behind him softly, leaving Yin alone.

Yin stood there frozen, shocked more than anything. Han, the greatest basketball player
he’d ever seen. Han, who held a winning record of 17-0 between the two. Han, who could easily
make three-pointers with a swish of his wrist. Han, who didn’t make the highschool team? The
thought was bitter. Yin didn’t understand, he didn’t want to. He glanced up at the clock. School
would be starting soon, let's focus on that.
School started when the sun was near its peak, light enough for Yin to enjoy the walk,
cool enough thanks to the early storm. Today would be good. Mother had made his favorite meal
the night before, a new occasion he’d have to get used to. First day of elementary, Yin looks
forward to the steamed dumplings and fresh kimchi for lunch. Lunchbox in hand, backpack
filled, he easily makes the journey.
“Good morning, Yin.” A tall lady greets him at the entrance, pushing up her glasses as
she waves ‘hello’. Politely, he bows as his mother had taught him, seemingly surprising the
woman. Before Yin can ask, he’s pushed forward by the other children, bombarded into the
classroom where he somehow manages to find a seat next to several other kids. They’re awfully
loud, Yin realizes. He also realizes he still has his sneakers on. Quickly, he begins to remove his
shoes, getting up to place them neatly by the entrance side by side. As dad had taught him, no
dirt on the carpets. Sitting back down, his table-mates look at him oddly.
“Yin,” The tall lady announces his name, “Put your shoes back on, please.” She finishes,
going to her desk for paper.
Yin’s face flushes red at the callout, keeping his eyes down as he goes to retrieve his
shoes. The entire class had gone quiet, watching his walk of shame. He wiped down as much dirt
from his shoes and put them back on swiftly, wondering why the rest of the students didn’t find
the concept of dirt on carpet absurd. His confidence had plundered significantly. He gradually
became quiet as everyone pulled out their coloring materials for the day. At least lunch was soon,
maybe some food in his stomach would make him feel better.
After some more coloring and handwriting practice, the golden hour had finally come.
Yin eagerly pulled out his lunchbox, breathing in the scent of home and mom’s cooking. Pulling
out his meal, the reactions of others were instant.
“What is that?” Someone said. “Ewww it smells funny!” Another voice. There was an
uproar of comments, all of which negative. The tall lady hushed the voices, lecturing them to
simply eat. Yin just sat there. He closed his lunchbox. The voices had buzzed out. Strangely, his
appetite had diminished.
 He thought back to earlier this morning, what Han had said, it clicked. The whole day
led him to the answer. Every action he made was alien. It was different. Like his brother, he
could only chuckle sadly, “I’m just the oddball, I guess.”