You are a bit surprised that he is the one offering to teach you how to dance.
From rumors from the other misfit children at this containment facility, Bobby Zilch is supposed to be crass, rude, and a generally unpleasant person to be around. You have seen him in action before, finding his behavior towards the goggle-headed boy, Raz, rather crude.
Previously, you decided to interact with him, presuming that he was possibly an alien ambassador on account that his appearance is rather uncouth from the rest of the earthlings. He had appeared shocked, and his large-eared henchman promptly began mocking you. Yet, Bobby smacked him over the head, snarling at him to leave, and when he does, Bobby looked down at you with his mouth in a slight gape and his eyes wide. You reiterated the question. His complexion seemed to redden to match the bags underneath his eyes, and he hastily threw the question back at you. You tersely nodded, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated, but suddenly smirked and shrugged as if the question were a game. You found his gesture to be a bit unnerving, but you continued to press him about his apparent alien heritage, and you began to assume that he was humoring you when his face twisted into a sneer and chuckled. Aggravation initially swept through your small frame, and you were prepped to leave. He evidently realized his own inherent discourtesy, which was rare for humans, and waved his hands, trying to say he was not being unkind purposely. You decided to drop the conversation and left in a mildly annoyed huff for wasting your time. Glancing over your shoulder allowed you to find him still standing there, a bit flustered and red-faced, a note you mentally took when he dejectedly turned and walked away.
Your second conversation with Bobby was initiated from his concern. He had seen you on the lodge's roof, and you were dangerously high in the air, grasping the cable antenna and hoisting yourself up. One slippery misstep on your part, and you would have ended up with a broken neck. You looked down to him, irritated that he had interjected in your obstinate mission of rewiring the antenna. He levitated up towards you, landing on the roof with what you discerned as nervousness in his discolored eyes. You told him what you were doing and expected to be left alone, but almost as if he needed an order to leave, he remained behind you and simply watched. You anticipated this as several other children at your school would openly mock you for such "whimsical nonsense" as the school counselor once said. However, you found his curiosity to be a bit unnerving since he was a fellow psychic child, one that could clearly hold himself in a fight, and you asked why he was staring. His eyes blinked back to focus, and another one of those human blushes crossed his cheeks as he sheepishly shrugged again, grotesque mouth forming into an awkward smile. You supposed you did not mind as he apologized, scratching the back of his head, and you decided to pursue another conversation by telling him your name, something you had foolishly forgotten before.
He told you his name with his arms crossed and pride gleaming on his face, and he suddenly went off into a tangent of a story about himself. He is from Drywell, Missouri, and his parents are divorced, and he thinks aliens are "cool." You paused, asking him if you fit underneath that definition of "cool." His expression swapped for shock, and you assumed he was trying to mock you once more, so you defiantly leap from the antenna, and he uttered what you determined was the most feminine scream you will ever hear. You landed perfectly on your knees by using your telekinesis, gifted to you by your alien parents from another world, to grab hold to a pole and shimmy your way down. You looked up to him, finding him hunched over and on his knees before saluting him a human farewell and scurrying off.
In your two conversations with him, Bobby was turning out to be the most courteous to you despite the rumors. He was the only one willing to speak with you, and he had even exposed interest in your alien culture. You concluded that he must be an alien. It is his awkward gait, and his gangly disposition that forces him to stand out among the other oddballs of this horrendous containment facility. You hope to speak to him alone when he is not too disconcerted or worrying over your safety to investigate the matter as you made your way to Ms. Milla Vodello's levitation training.
Still, you found Bobby's interest in you a bit surprising. Out of the humans you have encountered, he is the only one who treats you normally. His henchman, as mentioned before, made no manner to hide his mockery. The pig-tailed girl would roll her eyes and humor you for the sake of conversation, and you really did not want to get started with the nasally, droning human. How he continued on with his mind-numbingly tedious tale about his dog would drive your human captors to drink that vile slime they call "liquor."
This leads you to this very moment. He has approached you, finding you on your white levitation ball, and him on his own dark pink hovering orb. He is smiling, expertly twirling and "jiving," as humans say, in front of you with a grin. He asks if you find Milla's party suitable to your liking in much more simplistic terms. You state the colors are hurting your eyes, but the music is rather nice compared to the dull classical music your "mother" plays repeatedly in her car. He agrees, shielding his eyes from the nearly blinding disco ball, and he glances over his shoulder, finding the cowboy and the blonde girl staring at him with gaping mouths. He jerks his head back to you, and you can tell something is wrong. His brow is furrowed, nose wrinkling in disgust at the mere sight of anyone imposing on him. In a polite manner, you question if their presence is irksome. Bobby rolls his shoulders back, popping them back into place, and he shakes his head, offering to make them leave. He cracks his knuckles, hinting at what he will do to force them to eliminate their apparently troubling presences.
You shake your head. Earthling violence is the reason why this pathetic planet will never be asked in the greater galactic community. You wobble on your ball, trying to get the hang of moving around like the dancing figments surrounding you. Still in training, you hardly have a grasp on levitating while Bobby has apparently mastered the power. You stumble slightly, almost falling off, but he catches you, arms shooting out faster than you have seen. He is holding you by your underarms, steadying you, and he sharply gasps, pulling away, and his arms nearly vanish behind his back. He apologizes, stammering with a distinctly lowered tone, but you shake your head, thanking him.
His smile returns, and he offers you his hand, asking, "Wanna dance with me?"
Initially, the goggle-headed human asked you this, and you accepted it, but he suddenly whirled away when Milla gave him a mission. You were distraught at first, but you remembered that humans were not very keen on keeping promises. He seemingly senses your unabashed uncertainty and carefully takes your hand, placing it on his shoulder and timidly places his hand on your thin waist. He moves backwards on his ball, prompting you to move forward, and he begins to move you with him, smiling as he does so. All you can do is obey his gentle commands like his own private toy, and his grinning, somewhat blushing face is all you see. The lights seem to die away, and the voices from the other earthlings fade to the back of your mind. Shouts from the cheering dancers also dwindle to a hushed whisper as he cascades with you across the dance floor. You are holding your hand in his own like you two are ballroom dancers, a ballet that would never fit the partying mood, but you two do not seem to care. You allow yourself to smile behind your helmet, stating that "earth rhythms" are amusing. Bobby quirks his bushy eyebrow, a light, lopsided grin on his face and chuckles, clearly entertained with your vernacular, and you continue your dance without a care in the world.
However, your bliss must come to an end. Milla's voice pulsates throughout her mental domain, shouting the "race" will soon begin. Bobby's head jerks up, an eager gleam crossing his eyes and breaks your movements. His head whips back and forth between you and the apparent gate that leads to the race. He claims that being the champion of Milla's race, he needs to go defeat his potential competition, but from what you can derive, no one can beat him. His levitation skills are the superior out of the campers, and you tell him to go and defend his title. He nods a few times, backing up on his levitation ball as if to continue to impress, but he promptly knocks into one of the dancers and loses his balance. Head colliding with the floor, he groans, and you scurry over and deplete your levitation ball. As he rubs his head, you offer your hand, and he stares at you in wonder just as you had been staring at him when he proposed to teach you to dance. Reaching out, he grabs your hand, and you pull him to his feet. You say nothing to each other, and your hands are still clasped when Milla gives the final call for the race. You part with smiles, and even with the blonde, gossipy human gasping and thrusting her pig nose into your relationship with Bobby, you merely grin, thankful your visor is shaded so she cannot see.
In your three interactions, Bobby has proven to be the most intriguing. Despite the swirling rumors of his cruelty and decisive manner of heading immediately into arguments, he is giving. It may only be just to you, but you accept that. You know that he is headstrong at times, but he is kind and can ramble on about such foolish "earth primate" luxuries. Bobby would gladly do what he can to make you smile and understand life on this miserable planet. Even though you are desperately searching for your home in a world that simply refutes your ideas, he has proven that there are people that will support you in your quest. Not once has he denied your claim of being an extraterrestrial. Instead, Bobby has shown you intimacy and sincerity like no human has before.
To think, you have only spoken to him three times, and he has become your closest confidante, and, quite possibly, your only friend. You plan on making your fourth encounter as memorable as the last, and you do. In this case, you both are attacked by a hideous, hulking lungfish. You two never speak of this incident again.
Well, when you do, it is to only to recall the humiliation on the flirtatious chimp's face when Bobby effectively destroyed his charm by shoving his foot straight up his butt.