Impossibly me, prologue: introductions

I leaned out on the branch and narrowed my eyes in my binoculars. It was him, no doubt about it. He walked through the field alone, heading toward the tree I was frozen in. This can't be happening, I thought. But, sure enough, in a few minutes he was at the base of the old pine, his far away face looking up at me through the brambles and branches of the tree. I stared back unblinkingly, eyes still narrowed. 1

"Hi," he finally said, sounding like he was enjoying some inside joke.2

"What?" I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.3

He laughed at my attitude, his generic light brown hair moving a little. "My name's Michaelangelo." 4

"Yeah?" I said. "You paint?"5

He laughed again, the noise too light and cheery for something this impossible. "Care to come down so I can properly introduce myself?"6

"No," I called down. "I'm perfectly fine up here." 7

He sighed and pulled himself onto the bottom branch with ease and made his way up the tree, sitting himself comfortably on an armchair-like branch that I liked to sit and read in sometimes.8

Now that he was closer, I could see that the boy was probably about seventeen or eighteen years old, just a year or so older than me. His eyes were kind of a muddled color, either brown or green, or something in between. Through the binoculars he had looked pretty tall, as well, and my suspicions were proved correct as his whole wiry yet muscular form now sat in front of me. He looked at me curiously, an amused look on his face.9

"So what do you want, Michaelangelo?" I said in an annoyed tone once he had settled down, putting unnecessary stress on his ridiculous name.10

"You can call me Mike," he suggested, scrunching his nose a little at the unpleasant way I had used his name, but looking happy nonetheless.11

"You didn't answer my question, Mike," I said, slaughtering his name again with more stress on the word than it needed.12

He moved a little on his makeshift chair and looked at me with one eyebrow raised slightly. "Now you're just asking stupid questions."13

"Humor me," I said.14

"Well for one thing," he began, watching me carefully, "you're sitting here talking to me. No, not just that, hearing me speak and watching me move." He paused to see my reaction, of which there was none. "Secondly, I can see you, which obviously hasn't happened to you in a long time."15

"A very long time," I corrected in a cool voice.16

"Thirdly," he said, ignoring my interruption, "I saw you running experiments in the lunchroom today, and I thought we could exchange valuable information."17

My eyes flashed a little. "I have a lot to learn about my... condition," I said in a tight voice, "So I might as well learn the extents of how it works."18

He shrugged. "I never said there was anything wrong with it."19

"That's not what I was going at," I said edgily, "And why would you need any information anyway? You don't seem to be having any problems with this lifestyle." 20

Mike chuckled softly, looking at me bemusedly and crossing his legs on the branch. It looked very uncomfortable. "I suppose we can do that later."21

"Oh?" I said, having been somewhat hopeful there wouldn't be a later.22

"Why are you so against me?" he wondered, studying me with a pondering look.23

"Here I am, living my life, everything fine and dandy, when suddenly YOU come along--" I pointed my finger at him dramatically, "--and confuse every freaking result I've come up with so far, and throwing my whole world out of whack!"24

"I think you're exaggerating a little bit," he said smugly, but I wasn't done.25

"Now we're sitting here, in a tree, making small talk, avoiding the big question between us and wondering why the hell either one of us should even exist!" I took a little intake of air after saying such a long sentence in one breath.26

"Isn't it still better than being alone?" he said, suddenly very quiet. I knew I had touched on a rough spot. I sighed, my sudden flash of temper fading.27

"Sorry, Mike," I muttered after a few minutes. "Teenage girl. Hormones. I blame those things."28

His face lightened a little and he looked at me pointedly. "You're right, though," he said slowly, thinking. "We need to figure out why we exist, why we can talk to each other..." He stopped when he saw me put a finger to my lips.29

"How about we leave the science talk for later?" I said, trying hard not to add in a snide remark. It had been a while since I'd led a conversation with anyone. "I might have been kinda snappy earlier, but really, I haven't talked to a human being since I was ten. Well," I corrected, "I haven't been answered by a human being."30

He smiled understandingly. "What would you like to talk about?"31

"No!" I said, loudly again. Seeing his alarmed look, I added in a quieter voice, "Not like that. I mean, just natural conversation, no starter lines needed."32

"Okay..." he said, looking slightly confused.33

"I'm Van Gogh," I said, sticking my hand out for him to shake.34

He took it seriously and shook it while I cracked up. He looked confused again. 35

"Get it?" I said. "Van Gogh? Michaelangelo?" 36

He snorted. "It really has been a while since you talked to people," he laughed quietly.37

"Hey, there's no better way to meet someone than with an awful joke," I said, glaring when I saw him open his mouth to protest. "My actual name is Jenessa, Jen for short," I informed him, shaking his hand again.38

"You sure I can't call you Nessie?" He joked, and I rolled my eyes.39

"Lets go for a walk," I said, pulling my legs out from under me. "Kind of an awkward place to spend long periods of time."40

"No kidding," he said, and we climbed down.