I clinged onto my knees on the bottom step of the staircase.
I didn't want to go to school. I was perfectly fine at my old school in the US, even though the kids weren't that nice to me.
In fact, I didn't even want to live in Japan. My Dad, who is Japanese, taught me the language since I was a little kid, so I'm basically fluent, but that doesn't make up for the strange glances I get wherever I go. I didn't want to come here. I just want to go home.
My little sister Ayano trots down the steps in her shiny red school pinifore, smiling. She stops beside me and looks at my face, unable to understand that school is not fun when you leave preschool.
"Are you coming?" she squeaks. I sigh and walk into the hall.
"I guess I'll have to."
Mum is waiting at the door with her bags.
"We ready, then?" she says gleefully.
Ayano jumps forward, smiling and I nod gently. No.
The car trip takes about half an hour, much too far for me to walk. I've never quite understood why I couldn't go to the school round the corner instead, but Dad insisted that Seiyo Elementary was the best choice. The car came to an abrupt halt on the side of a road. "We're hear!" Mum chanted.
I swung my bag over my shoulder and pushed myself up from the back seat. I closed my eyes tight, then opened the car door.
Seiyo Elementary beamed down on me, the morning sun blaring over the gothic architecture. It was beige with small turrets and windows - terribly grand compared to the small, flat glass shed that was my old school at home. Seiyo had one large stained glass window on the very front of the builing, above the tall arched doorway, causing a pool of coloured light to fall onto the path.
Kids squeezed through the gate in checkered red and blue uniform, laughing and smiling. The playground was much more of a garden than a playground, with perfect flowerbeds and neat bushes on either side.
I looked down at myself. Even if I wore that same uniform, I'd never fit in here.
Mum takes a look at her watch and grabs Ayano's hand.
"I'm gonna walk Ayano to pre-school, Sayaka." Mum says, pulling Ayano along the path, "See you later."
I wave dreamily and watch Mum and Ayano trudge along the pathway, Ayano bouncing up and down with delight.
I look behind me, at the gates. My heart starts to beat faster, making me shiver.
The school is gathered around a tree in the playground, chatting and playing around. As a 6th grader, I'm at the top of the class, but that doesn't stop me from feeling extremely small.
I walk over to the tree trunk. It's this years classes. I scan across to sixth grade and find my name, Sayaka Himura. Star Class.
Across the playground, kids are forming lines in their classes. I silently tag along at the end of the star class sixth-graders. After a moment, we file into the building.
Our classroom is on the second floor, with big long Japanese-style windows on both sides of the room. It's light and open and noisy. Everyone seems so happy, except me.
I drop my bag on the desk nearest the windows and start to day-dream. The morning light shines onto the spacious floor and I smile gently.
Then the class turns silent.
Someone smacks their bag onto the desk just accross from mine, the sound echoing across the silent room. The whole class stops moving, stops talking.
It's a girl with shoulder-length pink hair, drastically modified uniform, orangey coloured eyes and puffy tartan socks. She delicately places herself in her chair and fiddles with a strand of hair, winding it around her fingers.
The class gradually resume to talk. I pass the girl a glance and she seems to mutter something. To me?
I tilt my head to the side to signal I didn't hear her. Noticing me, she snaps her head to face the other way like I'm not there.
I didn't want to go to school. I was perfectly fine at my old school in the US, even though the kids weren't that nice to me.
In fact, I didn't even want to live in Japan. My Dad, who is Japanese, taught me the language since I was a little kid, so I'm basically fluent, but that doesn't make up for the strange glances I get wherever I go. I didn't want to come here. I just want to go home.
My little sister Ayano trots down the steps in her shiny red school pinifore, smiling. She stops beside me and looks at my face, unable to understand that school is not fun when you leave preschool.
"Are you coming?" she squeaks. I sigh and walk into the hall.
"I guess I'll have to."
Mum is waiting at the door with her bags.
"We ready, then?" she says gleefully.
Ayano jumps forward, smiling and I nod gently. No.
The car trip takes about half an hour, much too far for me to walk. I've never quite understood why I couldn't go to the school round the corner instead, but Dad insisted that Seiyo Elementary was the best choice. The car came to an abrupt halt on the side of a road. "We're hear!" Mum chanted.
I swung my bag over my shoulder and pushed myself up from the back seat. I closed my eyes tight, then opened the car door.
Seiyo Elementary beamed down on me, the morning sun blaring over the gothic architecture. It was beige with small turrets and windows - terribly grand compared to the small, flat glass shed that was my old school at home. Seiyo had one large stained glass window on the very front of the builing, above the tall arched doorway, causing a pool of coloured light to fall onto the path.
Kids squeezed through the gate in checkered red and blue uniform, laughing and smiling. The playground was much more of a garden than a playground, with perfect flowerbeds and neat bushes on either side.
I looked down at myself. Even if I wore that same uniform, I'd never fit in here.
Mum takes a look at her watch and grabs Ayano's hand.
"I'm gonna walk Ayano to pre-school, Sayaka." Mum says, pulling Ayano along the path, "See you later."
I wave dreamily and watch Mum and Ayano trudge along the pathway, Ayano bouncing up and down with delight.
I look behind me, at the gates. My heart starts to beat faster, making me shiver.
The school is gathered around a tree in the playground, chatting and playing around. As a 6th grader, I'm at the top of the class, but that doesn't stop me from feeling extremely small.
I walk over to the tree trunk. It's this years classes. I scan across to sixth grade and find my name, Sayaka Himura. Star Class.
Across the playground, kids are forming lines in their classes. I silently tag along at the end of the star class sixth-graders. After a moment, we file into the building.
Our classroom is on the second floor, with big long Japanese-style windows on both sides of the room. It's light and open and noisy. Everyone seems so happy, except me.
I drop my bag on the desk nearest the windows and start to day-dream. The morning light shines onto the spacious floor and I smile gently.
Then the class turns silent.
Someone smacks their bag onto the desk just accross from mine, the sound echoing across the silent room. The whole class stops moving, stops talking.
It's a girl with shoulder-length pink hair, drastically modified uniform, orangey coloured eyes and puffy tartan socks. She delicately places herself in her chair and fiddles with a strand of hair, winding it around her fingers.
The class gradually resume to talk. I pass the girl a glance and she seems to mutter something. To me?
I tilt my head to the side to signal I didn't hear her. Noticing me, she snaps her head to face the other way like I'm not there.