I Am the Philharmonic

Odd

•2003, 8 years old•

"Hello?" The headmaster answered the school phone. He secretly hoped it wasn't Ender Angerona. That eight year old had been through too much. A father who couldn't care less, grand parents who wished her dead, and fellow students who ridiculed her. The only reason Ender happiness still existed was because of that godfather, Tom. Her mother cared, but was to scatterbrained to pay attention.

"It's Ender again." He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"What happened?"

"She's having difficulties socialising. Again. As the teacher said," With no doubt, the secretary was watching the child who would be sitting in one of the office chairs buried in one of her notebooks or novels.

"Not my division. Try the guidance consoler."

"She isn't in."

The man silently cursed. "Send her in."

A couple moments later the door opposite of his desk to reveal the one and only Ender Angerona. Her green eyes looked up at him. "Hullo, Mr. Sinton."

Sinton smiled as best as he could. "Take a seat, Ender."

She gripped her leather bond notebook in her hands as she looked between the chairs. Sinton studied this. Every time she entered his office she did this, he had no idea why. Ender glanced around the room, pushing stray auburn locks out of her face. Finally, she chose the chair on her right.

This was where Sinton became even more intrigued. She would always sit oddly, and get in trouble for it. Ender would place her feet on the chair and then get in a sort of a crouching position, hugging her knees. He'd even see her go as far as taking her shoes off.

Never in his 57 years of teaching had he seen this.

"You always do that."

Ender blinked. "What?"

"The choosing chairs and sitting like that."

The girl smiled softly. "I chose the chairs due the variables of the room, such as the sunlight and the heat convection. Also because of the way you sit. You are right handed, so it would be more comfortable for you to lean against you right armrest and face the left. Therefore, left was the best idea. I sit like this because it makes it easier to think."

Sinton felt his jaw drop. A third year took all of this into consideration? Even went as far as using words that some kids this age wouldn't even think of. Let alone use.

"Do you know why you're here, Ender?" She nodded. "Why don't you want to be with the other kids?"

Ender suddenly became immersed with the binding of her notebook. She mumbled something that Sinton couldn't hear.

"Ender, speak up,"

Her green orbs met his ageing blue ones. "They simply don't understand."

"What don't they understand?" It was clear that she was more intelligent then the kids in her class, but she couldn't just be talking about that.

"I tried to talk to them about it," Emder looked like she was pleading with him now.

"Talk to them about what?" Sinton was almost leaning across his desk now.

"The music."