he pink barrette in her hair was a concession to the constant admonition that she needed to be more feminine. What defined femininity didn't make a lot of sense to Haruka, considering they had just finished studying an entire book of the Bible where a woman commanded an army and another put a tent peg through a man's temple (Something she mused on often as she was being lectured by Father Anthony), to say nothing of St. Joan of Arc and her men's clothing, but these protestations went ignored or explained away—God had a certain way of denying Haruka pants—and so Haruka sat in the small chapel of her dormitory, in a plaid skirt and knee socks, pink barrette in her hair.
She looked up at the small statue of St. Joan in the corner, her selected personal saint. She still remembered stuttering to the sisters about why she had chosen her, something about the strength to be a soldier in the war for our lord or something, but that wasn't true. Joan was a reminder, a reminder that even the nuns and priests had forgotten. Haruka was just fine the way she was. God didn't care if she wore pants. She was still good and noble and an instrument of God, just the way she was made, and it was this thought that made the medallion a comfort on her neck as she walked through the halls.
Patroness of soldiers and France. Patroness of butch lesbians, more like.
She leaned back in the pew and put her feet up on the back of the wooden seat in front of her, rolling her sleeves up to the elbow. Like most of the charity girls here, she was bunked with three other girls, and though she cared for them, sometimes four to a room, even if Sister Agatha claimed it was bigger than the ones the paid girls lived in, was a bit much. Usagi had been crying about her grades, afraid she was going to get kicked out, like she did after every test, and Mako had been trying to comfort her with a bit of a cookie she'd made from carefully stolen ingredients, which she was also afraid would get her kicked out, and Mina was trying to comfort her with a bit of whiskey stolen from one of the father's offices, which probably was going to get her kicked out, but she seemed the least concerned of all.
She was too busy chasing Senator Hino's daughter around campus in a way she declared casual.
All in all, it had proven too much activity for Haruka, and so she had come down to the rarely-used chapel in the basement of the dormitory. There had been a new one built a few years ago, and there you could hear the rising prayers of the most fervent students swirl through the air, mingling with the incense and being carried to heaven.
She wasn't sure how effective any prayer from her would be, no matter how many times Joan comfortingly thumped against her chest.
She opened her small leather satchel. It had been a hand me down from a kind priest who had taken to Haruka's talent for machinery and given her pocket money to help repair the lawnmowers. They'd sent him to a new position last fall. That's life, she supposed. She took out a worn comic book, a Wonder Woman she'd found with a stack of others when she offered to help clean out a storage room, and a carefully sliced quarter of a king size candy bar, wrapped in plastic wrap. The opportunities for her to make a little money were hard to come by, and she had become an expert at knowing how to get the longest enjoyment out of her rare trips to the commissary.
She nibbled a corner from her cut bar and sighed happily as the chocolate began to melt in her mouth, flipping open her comic book and slowly reading each word, trying to enjoy each moment, to hear the voices in her head, to slowly savor the purloined joy of it. She was very much distracted from anything that wasn't an Amazonian princess when the thick, heavy door slammed behind her.
Her mind whirled, and her entire body contracted in surprise, spilling herself half off the pew and as she attempted to disentangle her legs from the back of the pew in front of her, quickly stuffing the comic book back into her bag, her candy bar flying onto the stone floor and crushing under her graceless foot. She scrambled to her feet and tucked an errant hair behind her ear.
"I was just—" she looked up, then, and saw Michiru Kaioh standing there. They had Literature and History together, she sat right in front of Haruka in History and Haruka had lost the entire Spanish Civil War based on the fact that Michiru smelled like flowers and her hair curled like waves on the ocean.
"I've frightened you." Her voice had power without force, and it was another reminder of how high above Haruka she was. Above all of them, really. Michiru didn't sleep four to a room, or even two to a room like most girls. Michiru had her own room, and her mary janes were fine handstitched leather, nothing like Haruka's clunky oxfords with a half-worn sole. Haruka looked ungainly in her uniform, her tie askew under her too-short sweatervest, but every piece fit Michiru perfectly, having selected the delicate peter pan blouse to complement the doll-like grace of her features. "Haruka, is it not?"
Haruka suddenly realized she'd been standing in silence. "Yeah, uh, I, we have class together," She tugged at her skirt and straightened up, trying to recover some bit of dignity, "anyway, you didn't scare me, I was just concentrating and didn't hear you come in."
"Of course," Michiru walked toward her and glanced over at the pew, "I was just going to practice my violin. This is an excellent place for.." she glanced over at Haruka's half-shoved comic and fallen candy bar, "quiet contemplation."
She'd heard Michiru play at services before, and the talent show every year. She had a gift—Haruka had once had to excuse herself when a piece had nearly brought her to tears—and she loved to watch her play, her elegant but passionate fingers running across the neck of the violin as Haruka had only imagined they might run across her own. But, of course, Michiru was nothing like that, didn't imagine the things Haruka imagined.
She wanted, more than anything, to sit and listen to her play, to be her only audience. But when met with Michiru's expectant look, all she could manage was a mumble. "I'll go." She bent to pick up her now-destroyed chocolate, and her comic book.
"Oh no, please don't." There was a genuine request in her voice, and she gently lowered herself to Haruka's side. She touched the edge of the comic book, the cover now torn in Haruka's haste. "Oh, now see? I've ruined it." Her hand moved back from the tear and gently brushed Haruka's. In one swift motion, she folded her hands back in her lap and looked down at her violin, clearing her throat before looking back at Haruka with a composed smile. "I amterribly sorry."
Haruka shook her head, grateful her shaggy hair covered the tips of her ears, which were beginning to grow red. "It's all me." She got to her feet and moved toward the door. "Have a nice night." She went to open the door, and heard Michiru's voice behind her.
"I'm ever so glad you're representing us at the track meet next weekend." Haruka turned and Michiru was at her feet, her violin clasped in front of her. "You run beautifully."
"I have a lot of practice." She shut the door behind her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even in the dim moonlight, Haruka could see the sheet of blonde hair dip off the edge of the bunk above her, Mina's face hanging down.
"So what the fuck is your problem? I've heard everyone else's"
Haruka sighed heavily. "I don't have a problem, Mina."
"Are you PMSing? No, that can't be right, we're due for a couple weeks yet."
Haruka braced up on her elbow. "You keep track of my period?"
"Listen, I gotta be constantly vigilant of times my lesbian will be moodiest."
"SHH!" Haruka indicated to the bunk bed at the other end of the room.
"Listen, buddy boy, if you think those two don't know you're gay, I got news." Mina flipped herself out of the top bunk and swung down to Haruka's bed. "So what's the deal, orange peel?"
"My deal is you won't let me go to sleep!" Haruka turned and faced away from Mina.
Mina reached her hand out and touched Haruka's uneven shag. "I gotta cut your hair again. Getting long."
"What excuse are we gonna use this time?" Haruka mumbled into the pillow.
"Listen, not my problem you get gum caught in your hair so easily." Last time, Mina had actually put gum in Haruka's hair, ostensibly to verify the story, but Haruka thought she got a little satisfaction at it. Mina had been the font of excuses to cut Haruka's hair so short ever since they were thirteen. For all the annoyance Mina occasionally caused her, it was nice to have one person in the world who cared about Haruka for what she was rather than what she might be. She patted Haruka's back. "C'mon, let's go onto the roof. I got Chesterfields and Sister Agnes had some fancy European chocolate biscuits I liberated."
Haruka laughed. "Someday you're gonna get kicked out, and where'll that leave me?"
"With a reason to mope, you'll be delighted." Mina sprang up and dug into her pillowcase, taking out a half-pack of cigarettes and a small tin. "Probably stand in the rain looking pathetic and mumbling ominously."
Haruka rose quietly from her bed and tiptoed to the window behind Mina. Mina opened the window wide and stepped out onto the ledge, sliding across slowly, her tin and cigarettes tucked into her bra. Haruka put a foot out on the ledge. It wasn't that they didn't trust Usagi and Mako, but they had never taken them to their spot out on the roof. It was a place for the two of them, where Haruka never felt she had to be anything or anybody else, safe beneath the blanket of stars.
Besides, Usagi would probably fall.
They settled in on the small flat expanse between two roof peaks, Mina offering a cigarette, which Haruka gratefully took. They sat in silence for a few moments, the smoke wafting on the air into the night sky, drifting toward the small points of light as Haruka could only dream.
Mina opened the tin and extended it toward Haruka. "So what's going on?"
Haruka took a biscuit from the tin and blew out another puff of smoke. "You know that girl I like, the one who plays the violin?"
"Michiru 'my family could buy and sell you a thousand times over and no one would ever find your remains' Kaioh, yeah."
"She's not like that, Mina."
"Oh come on," Mina chomped down on a biscuit, "you have no idea what she's like, she never talks to anyone, except Hino sometimes, and most of the time it's Hino shouting about something while she nods."
Haruka tucked a hair behind her ear. "Why do you call her by her last name?"
"Because it makes her nuts, mostly."
Haruka chuckled. "You flirt like a five year old."
"At least I flirt." She took another drag. "So, Michiru."
"I was in the chapel reading and she came in."
"And?"
"…then I left."
"Man, do you know how to tell a gripping narrative. How in the hell did that make you so mopey?"
"I just…" She sighed. Words were not, and had never been, Haruka's friend. There was a deep well of feeling within her, joys and sadnesses and fears, but she could never give them voice. She thought this might be why she loved Michiru's violin so much, the way it said things Haruka could never say, and said them so beautifully. But Haruka was not a violin, and so she shrugged. "I don't know. "I love being up here. I just feel free, like I could be anything. Like I could do anything." She picked a stray piece of lint off her t-shirt. "Down there I'm just, you know, a stupid mess who's only good on the track, but up here," She gazed up at the stars, "Here I could be king of the sky."
Mina rolled her eyes, but did it silently, and put out her cigarette. "You know, Ruka, as soon as we graduate from Mother Mary's House of Flapjacks, you'll find a nice girl and settle down."
"Says you."
"Yeah, says me. This isn't the whole world, Haruka, no matter what Sister Agatha tells you. There's some.." she waved her hand, "pit of lesbian feelings out there for you, who's gonna love how disgustingly emotional you are while still managing a fistfight a week."
"Aha. I'm not that bad, Mina." And it was true, Haruka had managed, mostly, to get her temper under control, save the few times Seiya got under her skin in gym class and the two them had given an impromptu lesson in boxing. Even she and Mako, who had managed to slug it out no less than three times in the first month arrived, had managed to cobble together a friendship.
"Indeed, my little baby's growing up."
Haruka didn't answer, just took another biscuit from the tin and gnawed at it thoughtfully. "I'll never have a girl like Michiru. Ever." She was a fine piece, like an art vase, that Haruka could gaze at under glass but could never dare to touch. "She's probably straight anyway."
Mina touched her shoulder kindly. "Buddy, you have no idea what she's like. She never talks to anyone"
You could say what you wanted to about Mother Mary's, but there was no question that the food was a cut above most high schools. Some of this lay in the fact that the nuns and students actually cooked it, which is how Mako slyly unwrapped an extra roll for each of them, cut into the shape of a rose and packed with jam.
"Eat it fast." She put the rolls, each wrapped in a delicately embroidered handkerchief, onto the table. "Before they catch you."
If Mina was the mischievous middle child, and Haruka was the protective older sister, than Mako would unquestionably be the mother. (Usagi, they all agreed, could only be the crybaby youngest.) Haruka gratefully munched at the roll, sweet and delicious, while running her fingers over Mako's fine needlework. She was praised highly by Sisters Grace and Mary Clare, who taught the home economics classes and clamored for Mako to attend each, and Haruka could easily see why.
Haruka popped the last bite of roll in her mouth and kicked Mina's foot as Sister Agnes started toward the table where they sat eating lunch.
"Ah Christ, it's the world's worst bible study" Mina began unrolling the hem of her skirt as fast as she possibly could, trying to cover her butt in a very literal fashion.
"Mina, I'm pleased to see the Lord has visited prudence upon you, suddenly." She stood in front of the table, and all the girls tried not to make eye contact.
Except, of course, Mina, for whom every conversation was a show in miniature. "Ah well, you know what they say, 'And the sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they straighten a wrinkled skirt'." She gave a dazzling smile.
"Wrinkled, was it?"
"Terribly." She clucked her tongue. "Which is, Sister, I know, a sign of my own slovenliness and weakness, and I will make contrition as soon as I finish this meal the Lord has chosen to gift an undeserving creature."
Sister Agnes looked down at her. "Careful with you clever words, Mina. 'So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. See how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell.'" She looked over to Mako. "That shirt is a bit tight, my dear"
Mako pulled the collar of sweatervest up. "I haven't had a chance to fix it…" Normally, she took a slice out of the back of one of Haruka's shirts—she was so slender despite her height, and the work Mako did made it fit better—and used it to give herself some ease in the bust, but this was a new shirt.
She did not respond, but turned to Usagi "And I believe I have told you, before, about those pigtails."
Usagi looked as if she were about to cry and slowly undid her high, playful hair into two small plaits. "I'm sorry, Sister."
"Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—"
"But if a woman has long hair, it is her glory? For her hair is given to her for a covering." Mina looked up at Sister Agnes, straight in the eyes, and Haruka winced.
Sister Agnes looked, for once, quite caught out. She recovered, her eyes narrowed, and she turned to Haruka. "Yes."
Haruka said nothing, but pointed immediately to the pink barrette in her hair, wishing that she had chosen the more feminine peter pan blouse instead of the constant companionship of her oxford shirt and tie. But meetings with Sister Agnes were, indeed, like the second coming of Christ—no one knew the day or hour.
Sister Agnes looked back at Mina. "We will discuss the context of these verses later, in my office." She walked away, and Mina ate another spoonful of rice pilaf.
"Whatever," She shrugged, "it'll give me another chance to swipe some of her shit. That woman has a lot of damn sweets around to be talking about gluttony."
Usagi started to cry. "You're gonna get kicked out! Because of my pigtails!"
"Usagi, I'm not gonna get kicked out. And if I do it'll be because I stole you some of Sister Agnes' chocolate for you."
Usagi cried harder.
"Stop helping, Mina." Mako looked over at her.
Mina took her roll out from her lap and slid it across the table. "On me. I'd rather you have it. God, I hate that woman."
Usagi had just begun to recover when there was another, more pleasant interruption.
"There's mail for you."
Haruka looked up at the small girl, who must have been helping distribute the mail. "Can't be. I never get mail."
"But you do have mail. Your name is Haruka Tenoh. This is your mail." She said it in the same way she had said things when they had been lab partners, all those years ago, when she had managed to make Haruka feel stupid every single day of class. Her mom was a doctor or something. She set it on the table in front of Haruka, and did not wait for her to confirm the address before leaving.
The package was small and rather flat, and wrapped in brown paper tied with a string. It looked old-fashioned, and was all the more charming for that, and Haruka took a minute to appreciate it. It couldn't be from her mother–her mother never even remembered her birthday, she hadn't heard from her since the state took Haruka away and dropped her at the door of Mother Mary's School for Girls. Her grandmother was dead. Her father, ostensibly, had no idea she existed. She looked for a return address, but there was none, not even a postmark, and Haruka wrinkled her forehead in question.
"Are you gonna open that, or just stare at it?" Mina looked over at her, and she realized the other two were looking as well.
She gently untied the package, wanting to savor the rare treat of anyone giving her anything, and as she lilted away the brown paper, she saw Wonder Woman staring up at her. Two of the new issues. Underneath, there was a selection of three small candy bars, a brand Haruka had never even heard of, but they were wrapped in thick, luxurious foil and the rich scent of chocolate and caramel permeated though.
A small note fell from between the comic books. "So sorry to have disturbed you. My deepest apologies. M. Kaioh."
Haruka looked around the cafeteria, over to the corner where Michiru always sat, and saw her looking.
They both smiled.