Difference

Chapter 1

Everyone is the same beneath the veneer that they put up. While you may be thinking right now, but we’re all individual snowflakes with a different story to tell that molds us, you are sort of right. Key word being sort of. Yes we all have different back-stories that influence who we are, but at the core we are all really the same. Because of all of our shocking similarities, we seem to deem outer appearances as somewhat important. These are the things that make us different, but let me tell you a little secret: physical differences don’t do anything.  

 This was exactly what was going through my mind when he walked in and all of the ordinary people lounging in their booths turned to see who could possibly be drawing so much attention. And because people are so shockingly similar I knew exactly what every person in that diner was thinking: freak.

 

 Freak. When I glanced up from the cash register to also see what all the head turning and blatant stares were about, that ran through my mind too. I immediately felt guilty and tried to deviate from the thought. The thing about realizing that everyone is the same, is that you see it in yourself too.  

 Standing in the doorway of the red and white, cheesy, all American diner was a 6-foot tall man. He had on black scuffed biker boots, a pair of faded jeans with white strings around to bottom from what looked like years of walking through snow, rain, dirt, sand and just about any other imaginable grime and grease. He also had on a worn black tee shirt and a plaid red and black flannel. The only physical difference from him and every other guy in the diner was the long scar stretching from the outside corner of his right eyebrow all the way down to the bottom of his right ear. He was definitely not un-muscular, but he was not the mocho body builder type either. Even so, with the combination of his scar and the muscle he did have, he seemed menacing. That is until he opened his mouth.  

 As soon as he finished shaking the snow off his boots he looked up and noticed everyone staring. Suddenly he spoke in a very dramatic, very obviously attempting humor, manner.

 “Wait, is there someone famous behind me or am I just incredibly handsome?” As soon as he said it a giant smile spread across his face, forcing his scar to fold slightly and create a curve, as if it was a second smile. He had the kind of grin where he knew he was being funny, but you could tell he did it purely for the enjoyment of others. I’m guessing that considering his scar, he also wanted to take some attention off of the obvious difference between him and everyone else. Not that it actually made him any different.

 With that everyone seemed to realize their incredible lack of social skills and returned to eating with only a few hushed murmurs and uncomfortable laughs. If the staring and whispering bothered this guy, whatever his name is, he didn’t let on.

 He walked slowly, but deliberately to a small table almost directly in the middle of the diner, very much in view of everyone else present. He sat there and spread out a few sheets of paper and took out a pencil, making himself at home. It came off as a challenge to everyone else to see if anyone would mention his scar, yet the entire time he was smiling, and so was his scar.  Everyone in the diner deliberately avoided looking at him for a few very uncomfortable minutes, as he seemed to survey the reactions. When he seemed thoroughly satisfied with the response he had gotten I headed to his table to take his order.

 “Hi I’m Isabelle and I’ll be your waitress today, what can I get for you?” I asked with a very fake cheeky grin, just as the manager, Michael, had instructed me.

He looked up from what seemed to be math homework, smiled at me and said, “Well Isabelle, my name is Jed and I would like to pass math today.” The same self assured grin as before painted its self on his face. I ever so slightly rolled my eyes, hoping to keep my friendly façade.

 “Unfortunately I’m not so sure I can help in that area, but I’d be happy to get some pie for you.” I replied, still struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice.  

 “Well that’s a shame, but some pie would be lovely. What kind do you have?”

 This guy, Jed, was starting to get on my nerves. The cocky way he talked, how he thought I could be won over just by asking for help in math and adding a smile, it was all very typical high school boy. He was just further proof of the lack of importance of physical differences. “Just apple.” I said curtly, not wanting to deal with Jed’s “funny” antics anymore.

 “Well then I’ll take that.” He said shortly, seeming to sense my annoyance. He added, “thanks Isabelle” as almost an after thought. I immediately felt bad for the harsh tone I had used on him earlier, but of course didn’t acknowledge this. Instead, I turned around to head towards the kitchen.

 When I got to Jed’s table to give him his apple pie, I noticed he was visibly struggling with his math. The cool guy veneer was gone, and his shoulders were hinched over the table, head in hands and pencil lying unused on the table. When I handed him his pie he only responded with a mumbled thank you.

 “Need help with anything?” I asked, still feeling a bit guilty about earlier.

 “I thought you were no good at math.” He responded, his shoulders unclenching and raising his head from his hands, a slight devilish smile spreading across his face causing his scar to crinkle a bit. He knew he had caught me in a lie. 

 I could feel red warmth spreading across my cheeks as I replied, “Well I’m not exactly awful…” I trailed off. I wasn’t. I had lied earlier, simply not wanting to do math at work, but in all actuality I was passing honors math with “flying colors”.

 “Ha! I knew it!” He exclaimed, now completely coming out of his defeated slump.

 “Do you want help or not?” I questioned, half jokingly, half annoyed. 

 “Yeah, sorry, I’m absolutely awful at math. Please help” I detected a hint of begging in his voice, which never hurts.

 Over the next few hours I helped him get through his math, then science, occasionally stopping to take orders until the diner emptied out and the dinner buzz had faded into a quit lull. Eventually I looked up at the giant red clock hanging behind the counter and realized that my shift ended half an hour ago. My mom surely had fed the twins dinner without me, and they were probably already in bed. I jumped up and started to try and explain myself.

 “Jed, I’m really sorry I can’t help you finish this but my shift ended half an hour ago and I really need to be heading home. I have homework to do and…” I trailed off whilst running behind to counter to grab my coat.

“Alright, thanks for the help with math. As you can see I’m quite awful at it.”

 “Yeah I noticed” I replied jokingly, flashing him a quick smile and then grabbed the money he handed me.

 “At least I don’t lie about my skills,” he teased as he walked out of the diner and into the snow. I followed as soon as I had finished putting the money in the cash register and locking up. It wasn’t until then that I realized he had given me a 20-dollar tip. Interesting twist I thought as I shoved it in my pocket and ran out the door.