Chapter Seven
I roused myself early the next morning, making sure to wake up before my alarm clock had even the slightest idea that it should beep. In the dimness of my unlit room, I dressed in a maroon skirt and red sailor fuku, and grabbed my briefcase, filled with homework, notes, and textbooks, from beside my desk. Then I crept downstairs, made a piece of toast, and took my bento box from where I had left it on the counter last night, before slipping my shoes on, unlocking the door, and reaching for the doornob.
A small thrill went up my spine as the early morning coolness brushed my face, and as I took in the silent street that lay before my house. The whole world was out there, waiting, motionless, only just measuring out a mouthful of milky white light in the east.
I walked down the pathway and out on the sidewalk, and took a bite of toast. It was still warm, and chewy; I wondered where my mom had gotten the bread.
I began to make my way down the sidewalk, trying to move slowly to wake up a little. I had made sure to get to bed somewhat early, but fuzziness lingered at the edges of my mind, and I didn't want to trip and skin my knee. Another rumor would end up arising about how I had banged it up fighting robbers, or maybe this time it would be a gang from a rival school, but they would say I had used my knee as some sort of weapon nonetheless.
I took another bite of toast. I wasn't going to think about that stupidity right now, even though I knew that what I had woken up so early to do might very well give the other students chances to ferment even more fantastical situations.
I continued to walk down the sidewalk, turned a corner, and continued down a block; after several more blocks, I would reach the intersections and offices that I would traverse to reach school.
I kept my eyes open for cats as I walked, hoping to spot early risers among the flowerbeds that lay behind walls surrounding neighboring homes, but saw nothing.
Maybe it's simply to early for them. Feral cats are more nocturnal than the average pet. They could be getting some sleep right now.
Continuing to walk, despite a sharp disappointment poking its way in, I finished my toast as the mouthful of milk grew to a creamy puddle and then into a splash of butter-tinted light. Pomegranate flowers, gardenias, and azaleas were branching out past the walls, and were starting to bud. I stopped walking, caught an azalea bud in my left hand, and examined it. It was a light pink, the color of a kitten's nose.
Letting go of the plant, I shifted my briefcase from my right hand to my left, and yawned. I still had some leftover money on me; maybe I would buy a canned coffee or tea when I reached school in a few blocks.
I smiled to myself as I remembered the moment yesterday when Chiyo-chan had been protesting against Tomo buying a caffeinated soda in the afternoon, and how Chiyo-chan had also liked the face on the side of the Rilakkuma milk tea.
I'm glad she's not some robotic little genius; that would be awful. And I'm glad that all three of them are so nice.
A meow shook me from my thoughts, and I brushed my hand on my skirt, leaving toast crumbs behind; I saw a cat trekking down the sidewalk toward me. Its brown tabby fur was smooth, and its green eyes were alert.
The cat appeared to be friendly—its tail was parallel to the ground, and not lashing back and forth—almost like it wanted to be petted. I was glad that it looked healthy, too; living on the street must be difficult.
I crouched down in front of the cat, trying not to breathe as it came even closer. I set my briefcase down on the sidewalk, placing my palm on the rough tan concrete to steady myself as I reached out my left hand.
The gay cat biting me on Monday had to be a fluke. It had been in a bad mood. Or it was timid around people; its owners could have abandoned it.
But this cat, this brown tabby with green eyes the color of soft moss, would not be a fluke. It didn't seem timid at all, and it didn't look hungry.
This could work out. I could pet a cat in a few seconds. It didn't matter what would happen afterward, what I would do.
I would pet a cat, at long last; it was the only thing in the world that mattered to me right then.
Don't be afraid, I told myself, even as I felt my hand shake. You'll be fine.
The tabby gazed up at me, its brown stripes on its face amplifying the color of its nose, its eyes steady on me, unafraid. I was almost touching the top of its head; I was almost there.
I wondered what the fur of a cat would feel like.
And then it bit my hand, a quick lunging forward, a snapping of sharp teeth into my fingers and palm.
No, no, no! You can't…can't…
The pain intensified; the cat's jaws must have been used to snapping rocks in half.
Maybe…it's just more like a love bite.
The tabby finally released my hand, let out a hiss, and tore away down the sidewalk
I remained crouching there for a moment or two, my hand bleeding, long cuts burning on my skin.
I'll try again tomorrow, I resolved as I stood up. I caught myself as I stumbled, my palm flattening against the side of the briefcase as I used it as a place to push off from.
I will try to pet a cat tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.
I just have to keep trying.
"I can't believe that she got into another fistfight!"
"It's crazy! It hasn't even been a week since she started walking around with that other bandage."
"She must pick so many fights—with that look in her eyes, who'd cross her on purpose?"
As I passed the other students in the hallway, my newly bandaged hand close at my side, I heard the whispers of conversations around me—about me.
Not again, I thought, inclining my head forward, rounding my shoulders. Not more rumors.
I walked between crowds of students; their conversations died down as they noticed my hand, and then, as soon as I went by, I could hear the rumors starting to find new hosts. My head felt heavy; there wasn't time to buy a canned coffee after the nurse had bandaged my hand and get to class on time.
The sun had made it past the horizon, I noticed as I glanced out the one window lining the hallway that wasn't blocked by students. The sky was emptied of clouds, and the earlier yellowness of the sunrise had faded to the light blue of a spring sky.
I was jerked back to alertness as I heard the rumors start to run in new directions ahead of me.
"I heard it was by the train station!"
"Do you think she just got off the train and picked a fight with the first person she saw?"
"No, that wasn't what happened. The person I heard it from said she was walking by the train station, when some complete moron came up to her and insulted her."
"But who would insult Sakaki-san? There's nothing to insult her for. She's not one to take an insult lying down like that."
"Who knows? Like I said, they were a complete idiot. She ended up scratching their face!"
I shuddered as I went by that certain gathering of a few students, who all fell into a silent respectfulness.
I should say something. Tell them it's not true.
I would never fight anyone. I would never punch, or kick, or scratch.
But I couldn't bring myself to say anything, just like the first day of school, when I couldn't ask Chiyo-chan if she wanted to be friends with me.
Stupid. It's all so stupid. I should be able to tell them to stop. I should be able to open my mouth and say something.
I paused, and turned my head to glance back at the students I had passed. I tried to open my lips, to wretch my tongue from the roof of my mouth, to call words together to fight for me.
Whispers started up louder; wary, admiring eyes were studying the way I studied them.
I turned my head back to face forward once more. It was too much, too many eyes to stare into and explain how all of them wrong.
I continued walking down the hallway, kept walking away from all of them, and I hated every step.
Relief went through me as I noticed I was almost in sight of Class 1-3. Finally, finally, I could stop hearing the sound of myself walk away from people making me out to seem cooler by the minute.
When I opened the door to the classroom, I realized that the girl from Osaka still wasn't here. This was evident from Tomo's disappointed complaint of "What yew mean?" to Yukari-sensei.
"Look, Taniko-san," Yukari-sensei said as I entered the classroom. "I only told you about our secret weapon yesterday. Geez, did you think she would show up the minute I finished speaking? She'll be here today; just wait a while."
"I'm not stupid, Yukari-sensei," Tomo shot back. "I know how teleportation works."
Yukari groaned, laying her head flat on her desk. "Just go away," I heard her mumble. "It's too early for this. I need caffeine. And Nyamo to cook me more breakfast."
"Yukari-sensi, it's Friday!" Tomo said. "Don't be so down."
"You're right…" Yukari-sensei agreed, straightening herself. "Tomorrow I can finally have a bit of a break…I should try to get as much joy out of today as I can!" She burst into laughter. "I sound like one of those inspirational guides to fitness that Nyamo reads."
"What yew mean?" I heard Tomo ask in confusion as I reached my desk. Yomi was talking to Chiyo-chan about the math homework from the previous night.
"I thought that the second problem was harder than I expected." Yomi spoke with a lightness to her tone that she seemed to reserve for schoolwork she appreciated. "With the extra multiplication at the end, but the rest of it was fine—oh, hi, Sakaki-san!"
I nodded in her direction, and smiled at Chiyo-chan, who also chimed in with a hello.
I can say hello to them now. It's not that hard. I'm capable of opening my mouth.
"Hello," I said.
It was more comfortable to say that one small word to the two of them than it had been before. The air felt different, as though atoms had moved at the speed of light ever since I had thanked the three of them yesterday, and now I could breathe a little easier.
"Did you understand the math homework?" Yomi asked.
"Mostly," I answered, setting my bag on its hook, wincing as the bandage on my hand shifted, as the cat bite reminded me of its presence.
Yukari-sensei stood up from her desk. "Alright, everyone, our new transfer student is here!"
It was about time for class to start, I realized in disappointment; I would have liked to talk more to Yomi and Chiyo-chan.
"I better get back to my desk," Chiyo-chan said to Yomi and me. "See you at lunch!"
"Bye, Chiyo-chan!" Yomi said; I murmured a goodbye as well.
Yomi looked as though she wanted to say something more, but a shout from Tomo across the room made her roll her eyes to me in part apology, part exasperation, before she turned to chastise her friend.
I sat down at my seat, and got out some notes from the day before. Yukari-sensei went over to the door, and opened it for a girl around Tomo's height, with a pretty haircut a bit past her shoulders and a nervous, yet cheerful—and spacey?—expression.
The girl introduced herself as Ayumu Kasuga, and I would have listened more, would have paid better attention to her saying it was nice to meet all of us, except for the fact that my gaze wandered to land on Kaorin.
She was sitting several desks away from me, nearer to the front of the class, so it wasn't as though I could talk to her, even if I wanted to. Which I didn't want to.
I didn't know what to feel when I looked at her. I had gotten lost in thought for a while while doing homework last night, thinking about it all—thinking about how she had hurt me.
There was anger, disappointment, and annoyance from days ago, when she had left me alone, alone to wonder why she asked me for help, mentioned a club that she loved, and then dismissed me as a girl who wouldn't enjoy what she herself enjoyed.
There was sadness. I had given myself too much hope, seen a kind, cheerful girl who wanted to be my friend. I thought reaching out to her, helping her, might change something, might put some luck in my favor. But it hadn't changed a thing.
And then there was something I couldn't name, some emotion that could have been hope or could have been regret, or could have been wanting to reach out again.
But that was idiotic, because if I took a step towards Kaorin, I knew that she would use me. I would be her ticket to popularity.
Except, now with that unnamable feeling, I didn't feel quite so certain anymore.
That day at lunch at Yomi's desk—for we had all brought our lunch— I didn't talk. I didn't feel like talking. I would have liked to sleep, just rest my head on my bento box and take a nap.
I ate, sure, and tried to not wince too much at using my left hand to eat. The bite from the gray cat still wasn't fully healed; I was worried that those bites would open up again.
I listened, instead, to Tomo and Yomi converse, punctuated with occasional words from Chiyo-chan, and I tried to make myself smile.
"We need to go see what the Osakan girl has for lunch," Tomo said, across from me.
"Ayumu Kasuga," Chiyo-chan said, sitting at the side of Yomi's desk that was to my left.
"Ayu—Amy—Auy—" Tomo threw her hands up in frustration. "She needs a nickname."
On my other side, Yomi rolled her eyes. "Please don't give her one of your stupid nicknames. And we are not going to be poking around at her lunch."
"My nicknames aren't stupid, they're simple," Tomo said, picking up her chopsticks and stuffing a bite of rice into her mouth; her talking was merely a liability to her chewing, and so her next words came out mangled. "They're easy to remember."
"She named her hamster Ham-chan," Yomi said, as if that was the highest definition of idiocy the world had. "And then she named her dog Black."
Chiyo-chan frowned, confusion spelling out on her face in a neat, careful, script. "Why would naming a dog Black be a bad idea?"
"The dog had black fur," Yomi said.
"It's a simple name," Tomo interjected. "You get what you expect. But in Aym—Amm—Auy—Amy—uh, Auyanumu Kagura?"
"Ayumu Kasuga," Chiyo-chan repeated.
"Yeah, her," Tomo said. "Does she really seem like an Osakan to you guys?" She had a point; Ayumu Kasuga was, instead of a loud, talkative, rather crude person, had a dreamy, even-tempered likability surrounding her.
"Well, no," Yomi said. "But that really is all stereotypes."
It was Tomo's turn to roll her eyes. "If she's from Osaka, she should at least act like it. Or have some food from there. And since she doesn't act like it, and she might not have food, we need some sort of reminder that she's from Osaka." Her eyes widened, and then a mixture of surprise and joy brushed away her exasperated look. "Osaka! That's it! I'm a genius!"
Yomi reached out a hand to grab hold of her wrist, but Tomo had already exploded up from her seat and was racing over to Ayumu Kasuga, shouting, "Osaka! Osaka!" as she went.
"Can she really give Kasuga-san that nickname?" Chiyo-chan asked tentatively.
"Yes," Yomi said, getting up from her seat, her gaze dark. "And it will stick. I'll be back in a minute." And she hurried off after Tomo.
"Ham-chan…Black…" Chiyo-chan was frowning once more. She glanced over at me. "Sakaki-san, do you think those are good names for pets?"
"No," I said.
The speed of the conversation had felt like a car roaring past you, as you stood by the side of the road, hugging yourself against the force of the wind. I had heard everything, but it had made me feel dizzy, as though I had been spun around blindfolded multiple times.
Chiyo-chan glanced over at Yomi, Tomo and Kasuga-san—who had said a "What yew mean?" that could only be described as feeble as a newborn animal trying, and failing, to struggle to its feet.
And then I must have closed my eyes.
Both of us were still at Yomi's desk, except Chiyo-chan appeared to have the weight and height of a doll, was standing on the surface of the desk, and was frowning at me like I was some difficult math problem she was attempting to solve.
We must have been the only two in the room. Perhaps everyone had already left for home; the light from the windows was pale, a faint bluish color like a thin vein near the surface of a hand, and the harsh electronic lights had been switched off.
"Yes?" I asked.
The little Chiyo-chan said that I had been quiet at lunch today. For a split second, I thought that her pigtails bobbed in agreement. She asked if everything was alright.
"Um…" I didn't know what to say; I didn't know how I could tell Chiyo-chan what was happening in my head, or if she would understand. "It's really nothing."
Chiyo-chan was silent for a moment, pensive, and then stated that I could ask her for help.
I stared at this miniature of her, who had said that if it was no trouble at all, as if throwing my burdens at her wouldn't cause her to suffocate under a pile of all of my worries and helplessness and fears.
My stomach was a tight, glossy ball of tension. I wanted to hide; I needed to hide. "Thank you?"
She said that even though she might be younger, we were in the same class. She blinked at me from across the desk, her eyes full of worry. "You shouldn't feel weak about asking me for advice, especially you."
"Why me—?" I asked, and then realized the foolishness of the question. The race with Tomo, the strength I showed PE classes, the rumors of fistfights, and the intimidating aura. "Oh. Right."
Chiyo-chan hesitated a moment, and then said if there was nothing wrong, then she was sorry for intruding.
"Don't be sorry," I said quickly. "I do need help with something."
And then a voice spoke from behind me, or maybe it was all around me, permeating the air with its loudness.
"Sakaki-san! Sakaki-san!"
I opened my eyes; I had closed them only for a second, hadn't I? I couldn't have been sleeping for a while.
I felt the smooth plastic of my bento box against my cheek. My head felt heavy, achey, like someone had drilled a hole in it and then filled the hole with rocks. I heard the scrapping of chairs against the floor, and smelled the wood of the desk.
Chiyo-chan was tugging at my shoulder and calling my name. She sounded worried. "You feel asleep, Sakaki-san. Are you okay?"
I raised my head and rubbed my forehead with my left hand, forgetting the cat bite for a moment. "Oh…I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Sakaki-san!" It was Tomo, back from talking to Ayumu, with Yomi next to her; both were standing beside the desk, towering over me. I swallowed; my throat felt scratchy and dry.
"Usually I'm the one that falls asleep." Tomo shook her head. "I'm disappointed in you."
"Oh, lay off, Tomo," Yomi snapped. "She doesn't sleep all the time, unlike you." Her tone softened as she asked, "Are you okay, Sakaki-san?"
"I'm fine," I said, standing up from my chair and picking up my bento box.
Chiyo-chan still looked concerned. "You said that you needed something, when you were asleep…"
"I'm fine," I repeated, nervousness seeping into my stomach at her statement.
I turned my back on the three of them before they could ask more questions, returned my bento box to its proper place in my briefcase, and dragged my chair across the aisle back to my desk.
That dream I had was nothing more than a dream. I didn't see a reason why I should ask Chiyo-chan for help about the situation with Kaorin; I would figure it out on my own.
Even if I couldn't name a certain emotion, I would figure out my problem on my own—and a fear of weakness had nothing, absolutely, nothing, to do with that choice.
The last hour of class on Friday was PE, and I made sure to change into gym clothes as quickly as possible. Even though the locker room was full, even though there would be more admiring stares directed at me, I didn't want to hear how the rumor about my fistfight was evolving.
I just want to go home, I thought, standing outside the locker room. I still felt fatigued from my impromptu nap at lunch, the cat bites on my left hand were aching, and thoughts about the situation with Kaorin were persistently stuck in my head.
"Hi, Sakaki-san!"
I recognized her voice, and I stiffened. I didn't want to deal with Kaorin right now; I couldn't. I had to—had to think of what to say, what to tell her—
But I glanced down in her direction anyway, saw her standing in front of me, her eyes hopeful and nonthreatening, and I nodded my head in recognition.
Maybe she would explain herself. Maybe I could tell her that I had wanted to join her club, after all.
"Is your hand okay?" she asked. She seemed worried, and I felt once more like she cared about me. Except she couldn't care, not really. How could she care?
I nodded again. Now I felt like I couldn't breathe; like I was a statue, staring in one direction only, and I couldn't move however much I wanted to. I couldn't possibly tell Kaorin anything. I couldn't explain how she hurt me.
Kaorin looked as though she wanted to say something more, ask another question, but then Kurosawa-sensei blew her whistle for PE class to start.
I have to think more—I can't face her right now.
I jogged off from the changing rooms, away from Kaorin, over to the section of the racetrack where Kurosawa-sensei and a few other students had already gathered. It felt as though I was running away from a child who constantly clung to me, except that couldn't be right; Kaorin was not a child.
I wasn't being rude, I reassured myself. Class was starting. Kaorin just asked me if my hand was okay—we weren't about to start having a conversation.
But that didn't stop guilt from twisting inside me.
"Okay, everyone!" Kurosawa-sensei announced as more students gathered around her. "We're going to start with some stretches first, then practice our running. Wada-san, will you lead us for today?"
"Yes, Kurosawa-sensei!"
As Wada-san led us in stretching our backs and our legs and our arms, I noticed that Kaorin looked as though she was struggling to keep a smile on her face.
I did that to her. The guilt twisted harder—like a knife. Like teeth, sinking all the way through my body. It's my fault she looks so upset. My running away from her—I never want to run away like that again.
I should apologize.
I kept feeling guilty all throughout the remainder of the stretching. My mind felt like it was distorted, the thoughts coming in a million different bursts, all at the same time, words saying the same phrase over and over and over.
My fault—running away—I did that—
The first few pairs of runners went by in a dusty, cloudy, haze, and when Kurosawa-sensei called my name—and Kaorin's, not that, not that—I stepped forward to get the running over with.
It was easy, to step up to the white line and pretend that I was focusing my mind on the actions I would perform to reach the finish line first. I had heard that all the time, from middle school PE teachers—you had to see the action to complete the action well.
But what wasn't easy was seeing was the look on Kaorin's face as I came to stand beside her—disappointed, upset, but still hopeful. Still ridiculously hopeful.
When I heard Kurosawa-sensei blow her whistle for us to start, I hesitated, which made Kaorin hesitate, and we stood like that for a moment—still, motionless, the air tinged with some horrible sense of uncertainty—before I leapt forward, and then the race had begun.
Our race had begun, and I could hear Kaorin running alongside me, her breath steady, her feet thumping on the dry ground. We were two separate entities—focused on the same goal of winning, of overcoming the one we were running beside—our thoughts tied up in how the other had wounded us.
I had wounded Kaorin, after all; I had left her standing alone, not bothering to glance at her when she had so hesitantly stepped towards me.
She had to have realized by now that she had hurt me too—had to have added together my hardened expression, and how I turned my gaze away from her whenever our eyes met, and my inability to speak, and solved that equation to understand that she had done something to hurt me.
And so she offered me a chance to talk, had given me a chance to step towards her in return, and I ran away from her like I didn't care in the slightest, like she was a meaningless speck of dust.
We were running together now, or rather, running apart. I could hear her panting, just behind me. I thought I heard her gasp, or say a word, or sob.
It was a hot afternoon for a spring day, and the sun was beating us with bars of light. I wanted to turn around to face her, wanted to reach out a hand, wanted to speak.
But I ran even more instead. I pushed my feet even deeper against the ground, feeling the empty spaces my heels left in the dirt. I made myself move faster, trying to move away from it all—from her, from the rumors that she believed, from my wanting that wouldn't do any good.
I reached the finish line first.
