Nerd and Nudist

All characters are over 18. If you would like to discuss the story, please use the forums.

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I guess I'm what most people would call a child prodigy. I say I guess because from my point of view all that really meant was that they let me go at my own speed instead of holding me back. I finished high school when I was eleven. I finished my undergrad degree when I was sixteen. Yeah, I know, it took me five years to finish college. So sue me.

If I had been living in a normal family, my education would likely have stopped there. But I didn't live in a normal family. In fact, I didn't live in a family at all. I was a ward of the state. Insert joke about unicorn here. (That's what they call foster kids who go to college in case you didn't know.) I don't know the details of how I ended up that way or why no one ever bother to adopt me but that's how it was. The state has a rule, you have to be in school. My social worker had no wiggle room on it either. If you're under 18 and you belong to the state, then you go to school, period. So when I was still 16 I had to start a master's program. When I was 17 I wrote my dissertation and guess what? I failed. I actually failed. I was awarded some other dopey post-graduate diploma thing that I didn't care about. But if I passed or failed was not the important thing.

The really important thing that happened was that I was finally turning 18. Yes. I was officially and legally an adult. No more foster parents. No more dorms. No more social workers. I was free. I was finally going to be free.

There would be no more asking for permission for every little thing. I was going to be able to cross the state boarder whenever I wanted. I was going to be able to take a girl out on a date without my social worker doing a background check on her. Ok, it wasn't really as if a lot of girls were going to actually let me take them out. My love life up to this point had pretty much been one long chain of asking girls out and getting rejected time and again. I was almost to the point where I would just stop asking. But I was going to get a girl. Yes, I was going to get a girl when I finally had a job and my own place.

But from the looks of things I guess I was going to be homeless since I had no money and no family to support me. Luckily or maybe unluckily, the state was not about to just put me out in the wild. They would continue to support me so long as I was enrolled in school in some way. There were some other benefits to being enrolled in school as well, massive amounts of scholarship money and grant money. Some of it was for tuition and some of it was for doing research. And if the scholarships or grants were more than what was needed to cover the cost of school then I could keep the rest.

It turns out I was really good at getting grant money too. I used a new law that would force the government to release documents and I got my hands on a boatload of grant applications from various agencies. I did a statistical analysis to discover what made one application more likely to get a grant than the others. From the very beginning it was clear that using certain words or groups of words would made an application much more likely to be successful. There seemed to be three different grant profiles that would be successful depending on the preferences of the people giving the money so I created templates based on those. I would use one to apply for a grant under my own name. Another to apply for the grant for the university. And I used the third to apply for the grant in the name of our department or department head.

And the money came rolling in.

So I made a deal with the university. They would let me take a class on how to conduct a proper research study. I would also have a job at the university helping one of the professors conduct research. After a year of doing that, I would have two years to do my own study and do all the research all over again and then I could re-write my dissertation and maybe get a master's after all that.

I wouldn't exactly call that going at my own pace but it meant that I'd have an income; from the university, from grants, and from the state as well. My social worker would pay me $216 a month until I was 21 so long as I was in school and didn't do anything stupid like get arrested.

By this time in my life I was sick of living in the dorm. I had lived in a dorm for most of high school. Yeah, it was a boarding school and before you react with horror I will point out that my other options were living either with foster parents or in an orphanage. I'd choose boarding school any day, hands down.

Anyway, so I'd been living in a dorm since I was 9. I was kind of sick of it. It was about time I got my own place. I found a nice little one bedroom house to rent by one of the university lakes. I rode a bicycle to and from the university and life was easy for a bit. The only real stress I had in my life came when I tried to ask a girl out and she would point out just how unappealing I was to her. But at least then she would be talking to me. There were times when I would ask a girl out and she would just laugh or completely ignore me and continue on as if I hadn't said anything.

About a month before I turned 19 I got a summons in the mail. I'd never seen one of these things before and I had no idea what it was or what this was all about. My social worker didn't know what it was about either but if a judge wanted you in court you had best show up. So on the day of my court appearance my social worker drove me downtown.

I remembered that the court was a lot different than what you see in movies. I didn't see big grand marble floors and the judge's podium wasn't so high up. It also wasn't made out of wood. It looked like something you bought at a discount store and put together yourself with a hex key. The place had cheap carpet and dim lights. The only thing that really made this look like a courtroom at all was the guard carrying a gun.

I waited to be called. While the court was dealing with other matters there was this mic that was set up that people would walk up to and say their name into. When the judge finally got around to whatever it was he wanted me there for, instead of calling me up to the mic, he asked me and my social worker to go to another room that I guess was the judge's private office.

The judge was polite and asked me to sit down.

"Alright." the judge said. "Mr. Chatelain. Did anyone tell you why you're here?"

"No." my social worker answered for me. I just shook my head.

The judge looked over some records in a file and then addressed me again.

"Your sister will be turning 18 soon. The court needs to know ..."

"Excuse me, your honor." My social worker said. "I was not aware that Emile had any siblings."

The judge looked surprised. She took a document from the file and handed it to my social worker. "Ophelia Chatelain. He's her twin brother, right?"

"I'm already 18." I said.

My social worker handed the document back to the judge. "What did she do?"

"She stole $300 and tried to run away. When she ran out of money she stole a car. Then she pretended to have a gun and held up a convenience store."

"Are you sure she's my sister?" I asked. "Does that say who my parents are?"

"That's sealed." my social worker said.

"I don't understand." I said.

"Mr. Chatelain, your sister is currently being held in juvenile detention. You are listed as her only next of kin."

"What about my parents? Do you know who they are?"

"The court is not at liberty to disclose that information but this girl is your sister."

"My twin?"

My social worker shook her head no. "She has your same birthday but she isn't your twin. She's a year younger than you."

"How is that even possible? I thought I was given up days after I was born. What's going on?"

"Ok young man, calm down." the judge said. "We can't tell you about your parents but I can assure you that this is your sister. You have the ability to decide her fate."

"Me?" I looked over to my social worker. She nodded but didn't say anything. I looked back to the judge and asked her "Why me?"

"Once she turns 18 I can release her into the custody of a family member. If you don't want to take her then she stays in detention until she's 21."

"What do you mean by take her?"

"You would become her legal guardian until her 21st birthday."

"But she'd be an adult already?"

"Even though she'd be legally of age, because of the ruling against her I can not release her on her own. I can only release her into the care of a family member who agrees to be responsible for her until she turns 21. If I release her to you and she runs, then when we catch her she goes back to detention until she's 21 plus the time she was out. If you put her out of your house for any reason, she goes back to detention. If she does anything wrong, ANYTHING, even so mush as spit on the sidewalk, she goes back to detention."

"So, this is really probation."

"You can think of it that way."

"This is a lot to think about." I said. "If she does something, will I have to pay for it?"

"No. But you will have to provide her with the basic essentials."

I sat there thinking. I didn't know what to do. The judge and my social worker talked for a bit and then they told me I didn't have to decide that day. I had until my birthday to figure out if I wanted to do this.

A part of me didn't really believe that this girl was my sister. That just didn't make sense. What probably happened was that when she was given up at birth some lazy person just gave her my same name and just put my same birthday on her records. That seemed a lot more likely than the 1 in 365 chance that my biological sibling would share my same birthday.

The next week my social worker drove me down to the detention center. It was way out in the country side surrounded by farm land as far as you could see. It was basically a jail. It kind of reminded me of the orphanage I stayed it for a bit.

I sat in a room with a few various chairs in it. The girl was brought in and she was accompanied by her own social worker. She sat down opposite me.

"Ophelia," the other social worker said, "This is your brother Emile."

"Hi." the girl said and smiled briefly.

"Hello." I said. "I guess this is a surprise, huh?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Suddenly finding out you had a brother. Big news, right?"

She shook her head. "No. I knew I had a brother for years now."

"Really? They literally just told me about you."

"Cause I'm the little secret no one wants to talk about."

"Well, anyway ... Um they said you could get out of this place and come live with me if you wanted to."

"I don't think I really have a choice in the matter." she said. "If they keep me in here then I stay in here and if they send me to live with you, then that's what I'll do."

"Ok. I see you're point. But which would you rather do?"

"Well I sure don't want to say in this place."

"Fair enough. Can you give me a minute?"

I stood up and pulled my social worker to the side.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Are you sure she's my sister? Shouldn't we do like a DNA test or something?"

"Yes, she is your sister. They messed up your paperwork years ago. That's why we didn't know about her but I looked into it. She is your sister."

"But ..."

"Listen. Don't think about this from her point of view. Of course she wants to get out. Think about this from your point of view. If you don't trust her than leave her here. Even if she is your sister, you don't need someone coming into your life causing trouble."

"But if she's my sister I can't leave her in detention."

"Maybe detention is the best thing for her. If you let her out of this place you have no idea what she'll do."

I went back over to the girl and sat down. As much as I might have liked the idea of having a family member I did not really believe this girl was my sister. I figured the state was just trying to get rid of her by putting her on me.

I looked around. It had to really suck living here. If she was my sister and I left her in this place she might never want anything to do with me once she got out. Even if she wasn't my sister, and I let her out, if she ever did anything I could just call and have her sent back here.

"So, um ... what kind of movies do you like?" I asked.

"They don't let us watch tv in here."

"So, what kinds of things do you do all day?"

"We have to go to school and the rest of the time we just sit and wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For a visit. Or a letter. Or a phone call. For someone out there to care that I even exist and if I can't get that then I'm waiting for a birthday so I can finally get out of here."

The two social workers moved to one of the doors and left together. I guess they wanted to give me and this girl they claimed was my sister some time alone together.

The girl looked at me like she expected something but I had no idea what to say or do in this situation.

"So, what do you study in school?"

"Just the GED test." she said as if she was surprised by the question.

"GED ... you haven't finished high school yet?"

"Stop dicking around with me. You aren't really going to leave me in here are you?"

"I'm not doing anything with you. I don't even know who you are. Are you really my sister? Do you know who our parents are?"

"No. Your the older one, you'd know more than me. They never told me anything."

"They didn't even tell me about you. How long have you known you've had a brother?"

"Since I was little. I've been wondering where you were this whole time."

"They never told me I had a sister. I found out a couple of days ago and to be honest it's kind of hard to imagine that we're really related."

"You show up after all this time and then you don't even want me! Screw you. I didn't want you for a brother anyway."

I just looked at her for a moment as I wondered if I should risk letting her out of this place.

"Ok, listen." I said. "My house is really small and I don't have a lot of stuff."

"I don't care. I'd be out of here."

"You couldn't just loaf around all day. You'd have to go to college or get a job or something."

"Whatever you want me to do ... big brother."

Those words came out as awkward as I imagined they would. She was no more used to his idea than I was.

"Don't you have friends here?"

"No. Ok I'll be good. If you let me come live with you, I'll be good. I won't break any rules. I never want to come back to this place. Please. If you are my brother, please."

"I'm busy, just so you know. I won't have that much time to spend with you."

"I'll stay out of trouble. I promise."

"If this was the other way around, me asking to stay with you, would you let me?"

"Sure. Of course."

I doubted that was true. I couldn't imagine a sister taking in a brother from detention. Girls always expected to be given things so they mooch. But boys are just seen as a danger to be kept away. So what if she might be family. I didn't know her. She was just tying to con me. She'd run the first chance she got.

"Ok, can you tell me anything about me? Anything? Anything at all? Do you even remember my name?"

"Your name is Emile Chatelain. You are the youngest person to ever graduate from high school and college in this state. You're currently working on your master's degree. Oh, and you published two poems under the pen name Winded Moore."

"Wow. Who told you all that?"

"I used to write you letters, you know. I didn't know your address and I didn't know if any of them ever reached you but I would write them and buy a stamp to put on them and then send them off. We don't get much money in here or in the other places I lived so I couldn't write as often as I wanted but ... you never answered."

Our visit was cut short then. I didn't know what to make of my alleged sister but I was still sort of leaning towards just leaving her in lock up. They would make her study in there. Besides, what she did was rather serious.

The next day I paid a visit to the post office. The dead letter office had about thirty or so letters that were from my sister to me. The post office staff called round to some of the other locations and they found a few dozen more across the state.

I won't go into the kinds of things she wrote but it was clear she was a girl who had been reaching out to me for a long time. She didn't write anything terribly interesting but she always asked me to write back.

When the day came to give the judge my decision I told her to go ahead and send my sister to me.

When my birthday finally came around I waited and waited and waited for her to finally show up. It was all the way at the end of the day before the social worker pulled up to my house with my sister in the back seat. I had to sign a form and my sister had to sign a form. My sister had to call a special telephone number to report to corrections that she was at the location. She'd also have to check in at least once a week or something.

The social worker told me she was not obligated to make sure that I had a bed for Ophelia but she wanted to do a quick check that I wouldn't be making her sleep on the floor. The old lady I rented the house from had given me a cot to sleep on when I moved in. I had replaced it with a proper bed but now the cot was back out and waiting for my sister.

My social worker talked to both of us for a bit and when it seemed like we were really just waiting for her to leave she finally took off and left us alone.

At first my sister just stood there next to her backpack. Eventually she said "Thank you."

"No problem. Make yourself at home."

"Where should I put my stuff?"

"Wherever you like."

"Ok. Um where's your tv?"

"I don't have one. I usually just watch you tube if I watch anything at all."

"By the way, can I use your phone?"

"Yes. Of course. It's right by the computer."

"There are no numbers on this."

"You have to dial the number you want with the keyboard on the computer."

"Why?"

"Because I set it up with an analog telephone adapter."

"I'm sorry. I just don't understand how this works. Why don't you have just a normal phone?"

"Well most people just use a smartphone nowadays. This is really just an emergency backup."

"But ... ok." She tried the phone that I build myself and was able to check in with the authorities. Then she asked me a funny question. "Do you have any beer or anything?"

"No. I'm not old enough to buy beer."

"Oh, right. Not that I wanted beer anyway. I was just asking."

"Did you eat dinner yet?"

"Yeah. We stopped by a place on the way here. She said it was my birthday present."

"That's right. Happy birthday."

"You too."

"You know what. We should get some cake."

"Ok."

My sister and I walked down to the shopping area by the supermarket. There was a bakery there that specialized in various sweet cakes. We didn't get a big cake, just a couple of individual ones.

When we were leaving we bumped into a student who'd taken a course taught by the professor I did research for.

"Yo, Emit. On a date?"

I gave a non committal answer and the guy kept walking to whatever it was he was going to.

"Did he just call you Emit."

"He thinks that's my name. From what I hear a lot of people think that's my name."

"Why do you let them think that?"

"I don't know. It seems when I try to tell them different they all just ignore me."

"Well, at least it's better than what they used to call me."

"How can anyone make fun of Ophelia? That's a beautiful name."

"Orphan Ophelia."

"Oh."

It was dark when we got back to the house. I checked my email and read some news on a website. I usually took a shower in the morning so I was surprised when my sister asked me for a towel. She wanted to take a bath. I showed her where everything was and then I left her to do her thing.