It's first period.
I hunker down in my usual seat, third row from the front. Komaeda is beside me, expressionless and quiet, as usual. Tall and pale, Komaeda looks more like a skinny ghost than a human being.
On my other side, Mikan Tsumiki is leaking tears onto her English book. Though she's much higher on the social ladder than us, Tsumiki is often bullied to tears by Saionji. I don't get why. Apart from being a total cry baby, she's nice. And the same-shoe guys think she's pretty, too, as evidenced by some graffiti in the bathroom.
On Komaeda's other side, Chiaki Nanami has assumed her standard position, head down on her books. She will be asleep and drooling in two minutes. I worry for her games, which have been discreetly slipped under the books.
Nanami is my only other female friend. She is the best gamer I have ever met in my life. She's one of those girls who might score a boyfriend at twenty-five, if she's lucky.
Though, Komaeda is constantly hinting that in terms of girl-potential, Nanami is as good as I'm likely to get. I don't know. I've tried, experimentally, picturing her shirtless; but she always ends up buried neck-down in video games. I'm happy to report that this does nothing whatsoever for me.
The teacher's head is buried in his drawer, and the volume of the class is steadily increasing as the clock ticks. I'm normally pretty interested in English, but the latest Pack incident has left me in no mood for writing complex sentence structures that make no sense. Instead, I start to doodle in my book.
Then there is a knock on the classroom door.
The door opens.
Our assistant principal Ms Usami enters, dabbing at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. She reminds me of an older Tsumiki, somehow.
She is followed by a girl.
The noise in the classroom wavers and dies.
Ms Usami sniffles. "Sowwy," she says as she pats her face with the handkerchief, sounding more like a five year old than a twenty-something year old woman, "I have tewwible allergies at this time of year." She hurries over for a hushed conversation with our teacher, pats the girl on the back, and nods at the class, and hurries out of the room again without saying a word.
I don't have any interest about what happens at this school, but a new girl means fresh meat, which means possible freedom from the Pack's torment for a little while. I put my pen down and close my book.
The teacher leans across his desk. The class is silent. The girl waits.
She is wearing an olive green dress and a white dress shirt underneath, which almost makes her look more like an eleven year old 1850s English schoolgirl than a second year high school student. Her hair is cut in a short bob, and it is red – a natural red, too, not the crappy dyed red. She has freckles all over her face. She has a tiny shoulder bag, but I can't tell what's in it. She peers around the room impassively. She doesn't look terrified. She doesn't look overly confident, like Owari in middle school when she claimed she could fight Nidai, one of the biggest guys in school and win with one hand tied behind her back. Nanami and I mark that event as ground zero for the downward social spiral of our group.
The teacher smiles at her. "So, it seems we have a new member to our Hope's Peak family. I trust we'll make… Koizumi… welcome. Tell us about yourself, Koizumi."
The girl shrugs, like addressing a class full of possibly hostile strangers is no big deal. "Well, as you said, my name's Mahiru Koizumi. I've just moved here – to live with my dad since my mom's abroad. We're from around here, originally, but we've had to travel around quite a bit for my mom's work and all. She's a photographer. We lived in London for a little while, but she was working in New York City for a few months before now, so we kind of went around America for a bit in the holidays. Then my parents said that I had to come and live here again, so I could finish my education." She shrugs again with a half-smile. "Though I guess my dad was missing me." Something weird happens to the teacher's face.
"That must mean you speak English, right? If you've been to all those countries," Sonia Nevermind, the school's exchange student gasps with excitement.
"Uh… a bit. I'm not that great at it." Koizumi says. This turns out to be a huge lie, as she and Sonia exchange a few sentences in complicated English that I don't get at all.
"Wait, is your mother… the war photographer Koizumi?" The teacher finally says.
The faint scent of a celebrity is in the air. The energy in the room changes.
"Ah, yeah," she replies, "are you a fan, then? That's a little embarrassing."
"Are you kidding?" The teacher stares at her like she's walked into the class with someone's head in a jar. "Your mom – she's amazing! She's really good at showing emotion in her photos."
"Yep. My mom loves to take pictures of really tragic stuff. It's kind of silly, really."
The teacher seems to realise that there is a class in the room, because he closes his mouth and looks like he's trying to hide his excitement. He leans against his desk again. "Well, what do you know. Class, Koizumi's mother has to be one of the best photographers working today. She's taken very controversial pictures."
There are hushed whispers. Mostly from people who have no idea who he's talking about, but are vaguely aware that they are famous magazines and therefore worthy of hushed whispers.
The teacher rolls his eyes. "She's also taken photos of Perfume."
Gasps and a flurry of hysterical whispers rocket around the room. Perfume is the most popular idol group of 2013.
Koizumi just nods, and gives him that half-smile again.
The teacher shakes himself out of his stupor. He gestures to a seat in the second row next to Saionji, who is not looking impressed at all by this information. Koizumi walks casually to the table. A roomful of eyes are on her, but she walks like she's in the room alone. Teruteru Hanamura almost falls out of his chair as he tries to get a look at her legs.
The teacher turns his back on us and begins writing on the blackboard. No one cares.
She sits. She slips a leather-bound notepad out of her bag. She pushes herself back from her desk and crosses her legs, balancing her notepad on her knee. Behind her, two girls discreetly do the same.
She looks at Saionji. I freeze, and I find myself hoping to god this girl won't talk to her.
"Uh… are you alright? You look a little upset." Koizumi says. Saionji looks up at her, a frown on her face. And then one of the strangest things happens. It turns out the reason Saionji is not impressed is that she hasn't been listening – her obi had come undone, and she couldn't tie to up again. Koizumi does it for her. Saionji… Saionji smiles, and not because she just terrorized someone, for once, and hugs Koizumi. "Yay! Big Sis Koizumi's the best!" Saionji says with glee.
Next to me, Tsumiki blinks with surprise.
Nanami chokes on her own saliva and wakes up with a snort.
Komaeda catches my eye. I know what he's thinking. At least the Pack should be preoccupied for the foreseeable future.
I roll my eyes. He crosses his. I try not to laugh.
I return to drawing in my exercise book.