Chapter
Ten
Tears
Lost In Rain
Vroom. Screech.
The melodic hum of the Lamborghini Diablo's engine disappears into the distant night before I can catch its plate number. Boy, I could sure use one of those babies.
"That was her! Come on!"
It's a good thing I'm not alone. And that I'm out here with someone with abnormally large eyes.
"Shaoran!"
Setting my worries aside, I pull the hood of my cloak down over my head with my right hand and run alongside my cousin, the same hand now almost at the hilt of my sword, even if I'm sure there aren't any thieves in this part of the neighborhood.
BEEP.
"Daidouji residence. Who's there? "
"Um... This is Meiling Li... Here to visit..."
I miss the rest of her sentence when a distant lightning bolt catches my attention. It's eleven seconds before I hear the thunder rumbling after it. While Meiling negotiates our entrance, I try to keep the package steady in the nook of my clumsy left arm. Funny how I can balance the box better when running- when my troubles have less of a chance of overriding my senses.
Proof of my out-of-character absentmindedness manifests itself when it takes me half a minute to realize the gates to Tomoyo's mansion have opened.
"Hurry UP! It looks like it's gonna rain soon!" she hollers. "We'll be caught dripping wet on the way back! I don't wanna get sick..."
As usual, I shrug.
"Well, if Daidouji-san's got a fever so bad even her mom won't let us visit, then it doesn't really matter, now, does it?"
First thing I've said all evening, and she doesn't have a witty comeback prepared. Ugh. What a strange, strange Tuesday.
The front door opens wide in front of us, drowning Meiling with light, just as the first drops of heaven's tears land at my heels. One of the Daidouji family bodyguards looks at my cousin and I in turn, not bothering to take off her sunglasses despite the hour of night.
"She's upstairs," the woman says in a voice seemingly incapable of expression. But she's worried. I can tell she's worried. If she wasn't, I don't think she would have let us in. "But Ms. Daidouji will be back in twenty minutes, so I suggest you make your visit quick."
Nodding, Meiling dashes up the staircase ahead of me, almost slipping on one of the steps near the top, barely taking the time to kick off her sneakers once she reaches the summit. When it comes to footwork, I usually leave my cousin eating my dust, but she's anxious enough to manage to spring open the door to Tomoyo's bedroom before I'm within ten paces of it.
"Daidouji-san?" It sounded more like shock than the concerned gesture she meant for it to be.
The only reply was the sound of a closing suitcase.
I made my way to the doorway expecting the worst. But there was no sickbed and no nurse. Actually, what I saw was far worse. The blue-eyed girl before me couldn't hide the redness in her pained eyes as much as she could the decrepit state of her bedroom.
"What do you want?" Her tone was too soft to mean anything; anger, frustration, sadness. Too soft even for Tomoyo. It was a voice numb and dead.
In front of me, Meiling shuffles as quickly and carefully as she can across the cluttered floor to pick up the scattered contents of the sewing kit that rebounded off of Tomoyo's bed when she clamped her suitcase shut so suddenly at our appearance.
All I can do is stand there and switch on the light.
"Turn it off!" Tomoyo protests weakly as I finally take a good look around her abode. Worries in the dark had scarcely overestimated the damage. Kilometers of videotape lay twisted on the furniture and tossed around like spliced black confetti. Between the shards of glass, tattered pieces of colorful clothing and old props from her video-making days littered on the floor, I can barely make out the carpet.
I'm so mesmerized I begin to reach back for the light switch before I realize what I'm doing.
"Now, wait a minute, Daidouji-san..."
She keeps her eyes down while stuffing a baby blue gift bag into an extremely ugly-looking orange and pink backpack, knuckling it as forcefully as she can while keeping that serene face of hers.
"I'm leaving," she says matter-of-factly, though she's too ashamed to do so much as look at us. Ashamed... of what?
"And I don't intend to come back anytime soon."
Meiling grabs the girl by her icy-looking hands, giving Tomoyo such a start that she drops the offensive-looking bag right on top of her feet. For some stupid reason I find myself wondering if all of this means I'll get to eat the cake I'm cradling in my arms.
"WHAT? Leaving? What do you mean, l-leaving? Where are-- Why? You're not THAT sick, are you?"
By Clow, she is stupid. Or maybe just not observant. Meiling just isn't the type who'd notice that not a single one of the old tapes left intact on her shelves has the name "SAKURA" on their labels, or that the pictures shredded and torn about are ones of SAKURA, or that the clothes scattered on the floor can only be unfinished prototype costumes for her best friend- some for battle enactments and others for parties. It breaks my heart to see items crafted with such talent and skill so mercilessly torn apart almost as much as it does to see the look on Tomoyo's face, in total contrast to it all, her normally jubilant eyes unmoving, half-closed, like a cracked porcelain doll.
"No, not sick." It was little more than a whisper.
"Then... What?" Meiling was tearing at the eyes in confusion.
Shaking off my cousin's vice grip on her hands, Tomoyo turns away from us to face the smoldering wreck of her mini-theatre system in her bedroom. The fumes from some of the scorched appliances force her to cough before she voices out her reply.
"You wouldn't care to know."
She picks up the offensive looking bag with one pale-skinned hand.
"After all," the girl adds in a whisper I'm sure she didn't intend for us to hear, "she didn't."
The bag launches forth like a brick into her full-length mirror. Meiling jumps back, and I stop my hand from instinctually darting to my weapon when Tomoyo turns back to face us, her face calm and collective... As it always has been. She slips on her raincoat and picks up her single piece of luggage, smiling at the two of us as she treads briskly out of the room, sleek even in leather boots that make squeamish noises as they plod over the broken glass and debris.
Sure the bag was ugly, but I don't think it deserved that.
The sudden rumble of thunder outside scares Meiling to her feet. Hopefully neither of the women noticed how I hollered out the beginnings of a high-pitched girlish scream.
"I'll let my bodyguards know you can stay for the night if you prefer," she says. "I don't want you to get caught out in the rain."
Sunday, 4:12 AM
"I'm all right, Meiling-chan, I swear," Tomoyo said softly. "It's just a light bruise."
The Chinese girl just sniffed as she tickled behind her friend's ears, laying down the ice bag on her lap so she could part Tomoyo's sweet-smelling (now was not the time to be envious of someone else's hair, she thought) hair to catch a glimpse of the bump.
"No, you're not! If that silly tape of mine didn't set your memory straight, Tomoyo Daidouji, then the blow to your head surely would have!"
Meiling still had a hard time accepting Tomoyo's revelation for the truth. But more than that, she was surprised that such shocking knowledge didn't make her loathe Sakura more... Rather, it made her feel deeply for her video-obsessed friend Tomoyo, who needed love more than Sakura needed hate.
Tomoyo who helped her through her constant heartbreaks, who trusted her with the things she could never tell Sakura...
Tomoyo who was patient enough to try teaching her how to bake chocolate cake seven times before giving up.
Tomoyo who, at the last second, turned on her back as they collided while falling down the stairs, as to sacrifice herself into sustaining the greater injury.
"So you remember now... The parties, the cake, our trip to Singapore, Shaoran's sports meet--"
"Yes."
And as for that ashen-haired girl... Well, she was beginning to feel the first wave of what Dr. Haueser related to her as the "not-so-pretty" side-effects of gaining her memory back. Past emotions threatened to boil to the surface, and Touya Kinomoto's presence in Meiling's video, eyes and voice sharp with concern for his little sister, only made things worse.
It was all Tomoyo could do to not curse at herself out loud. And she thought she probably would have, if it wasn't for the way Meiling's fingers felt as they combed through her hair. But even that sensation brought little comfort- stealing a glance at the eraser, Tomoyo doubted that she should be enjoying her friend's touch that much. Still, it felt like a necessary comfort after what she just had to endure, having all those horrible memories flow back to her.
"Meiling-chan."
"Uh huh?"
"When you came up the stairs earlier, you were crying."
"Nuh-uh, I was—"
"What happened?" Tomoyo spun around and looked Meiling straight in the eye. "What made you decide to come here?"
Meiling fidgeted with strands of Tomoyo's hair, wondering if she could get out of this by complimenting her friend on the conditioner she used. Her eyebrows formed a confused frown.
"It's nothing," Meiling said with a smile, quickly adding, "I was just so... so worried about you."
Tomoyo gave her a mischievous look that politely said she didn't believe a word of it.
"Oh, fine," the other girl said sadly, throwing her arms in the air. "If you MUST know, then I was crying 'coz I stubbed my second toe on the bottom step while trying to scurry up the stairs... It's like half an inch longer than my big toe- Shaoran says it must be a mutation or something. Isn't that gross?"
The other girl's face hardened.
"Wanna see it?" Meiling suggested innocently to top it all off, ready to pull down one knee-high sock.
Tomoyo adjusted her position on the couch, her eyes back on the eraser.
"It's okay. I'd rather not," she said firmly. Meiling's heart sank into her stomach, which reacted by twisting into a pretzel knot and attempting to strangle itself.
'She could see right through my stupid story... And I just betrayed her trust. But I'm not hiding anything! Nothing! Doesn't she know that?'
"Oh... okay, Tomoyo-chan."
(Spinning-card commercial time)
"I don't want you to get caught out in the rain."
I could have sworn I saw her wink at Meiling. Soon Tomoyo's footsteps are lost to the drumming melody of the downpour on the roof.
When all is clear I sneak out of the room, pick up a pair of traditional geta clogs lining the hallway, and, ignoring my cousin's pesky questions, walk across the shards of glass and mangled clothing to the remains of the broken mirror. After peeling off a piece of white masking tape labeling the bag as "TRASH", I reach for the zipper.
"SHAORAN!"
The voice I've been patiently ignoring for the past minute or so begins to irritate me. I swear, between Meiling and Sakura, someday I'm going to turn into an alcoholic.
"Yes, Meiling?" I ask ever so nicely.
"C'mon! Why don'tcha lemme see first?"
As if I have a choice. I toss her the backpack.
"Just don't do anything stupid, like getting the zipper stuck or something," I say idly, striding into the bathroom nearby and taking off the clogs so I can sink my weary feet into the shaggy pink carpet.
Twenty seconds later there is a bang on the door. I've barely undone my own zipper.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Can't you at the very least give me a minute to—"
"It's Kinomoto-san!"
"H-here? Now?"
"No! She's the reason Daidouji-san left!"
No shit.
"Uh... right. What makes you think that?" I'm so relieved I almost miss the bowl. I love Sakura with all my heart; I just don't think I'm in the right frame of mind to deal with her.
"Aah! I'm going after her!" Meiling screams.
"N-no! Meiling!"
Argh. Curse me and my unstoppable bladder flow. It takes until I can see my cousin run out the door and in the middle of street from the tiny window before I can zip my pants back up.
Exasperated, I push open the bathroom door, thinking that I might have a bite of the cake we brought for Tomoyo, half-guilty that I'm too mentally drained to chase after Tomoyo and my cousin, and unwittingly step on a shard of glass. I fall over to the side and scream out loud as my arm lands on pieces of shattered plastic.
Sunday, 9:47 AM
Slowly, excruciatingly, Shaoran Li willed his eyes open. One of the best things about drinking, he remembered to be grateful for, was the way that alcohol killed the brain cells that housed the memories of his nightmares upon waking. He knew they were nightmares because of how often they made him wake up sweating in the wee hours of the morning. And because something told him they were about his past- pretty much everything that'd happened in the past 3 years had been a nightmare to him.
Hung-over but persistent, Sharoan gathered himself up to a sit as the sun's rays crept out from behind a far-off building to the East and touched his cold feet, which were lying limp on the floor. Looking up first to the open window and then to the cordless phone hanging a few feet above him on the wall, the Chinese boy cleared his throat. Then he vomited. Then he cleared his throat again.
"Wei, what time is it?"
"Ten minutes to ten," came the reply.
"Do me a favor and load the trampoline from the garage into my car, please," Shaoran said, reaching for his sword up on the coffee table a few feet away.
"Of course, Shaoran."
Lurching forward from the side of the couch he was leaning against, and away from the pile of whatever it was Meiling bought for dinner the night before, Shaoran strained to reach the wall phone with his long, shiny blade.
Sunday, 4:19 AM (Time is confusing, isn't it?)
"Tell me... Where did you get all my stuff? You told me my mother got rid of everything." Tomoyo crossed her arms as she looked through Naoko Yanagizawa's onscreen projection.
Meiling scratched her head. "Let's just say Shaoran and I had impeccable timing," she said with a forced laugh. The other girl did not even fake a smile.
"Pass me the remote." Tomoyo muttered.
Meiling became aware of her interview tape still playing the background. Now Eriol Hiiragizawa had his chin cradled between his thumbs, leaning over a desk by the window of one of the rooms of his pastoral mansion in Scotland. It was recorded with a different camera, and Tomoyo thought it was probably streamed to Meiling through the Internet, where she stuck it on her tape with all the other interviews.
"I'm sure you remember that particular tea party... Shaoran almost burned himself when Kero tickled his ear with those tiny wings of his," The bespectacled boy reminisced as Tomoyo held the remote control calmly in her hand.
"All because the two were fighting over your last brownie." He giggled like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Tomoyo pointed her remote at the machine and pressed 'POWER'. But alas! The batteries were dead- that little red light at the top didn't light up. She pounded and pounded the button, but that DVD just wouldn't stop spinning... Meiling could understand. The one time in the last 5 years she dared attempt to bake another cake, she realized she didn't have any butter. And two hours of whining did nothing to change that. It was the day no butter came. She shuddered. But Eriol droned on. And Tomoyo still pounded on the remote.
"We always had fun, didn't we? I thoroughly enjoyed all the parties at your house when I came for my annual visit... I'll always miss sitting around the fireplace with yourself and Sakur—"
KZZT!
Eriol's cheery discourse skipped a beat when DVD remote bounced off DVD player. Meiling bit her lip. She was afraid of this. In one quick movement Tomoyo stood up from her seat, and without a sound she had yanked the black box from the rack leaning against the wall and tossed it across the room to where it collided and crashed into a standing lamp. Meiling couldn't turn away.
The Japanese girl fell to her knees, grabbed at her hair, screamed, pulled out the bottle of Dr. Haueser's pills from her purse, yanked off the cover and tossed it at the projection screen.
"Tomoyo-chan! Stop!"
The Chinese girl shuddered as her friend turned to face her after a moment's pause. The only sound was that of tiny pills rolling along the cold, wooden floor.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Tomoyo said serenely, but she still grit her teeth in frustration. "I feel much better now."
"Oh, Tomoyo-chan... I'm so sorry..."
The other girl dropped her head into her hands and groaned.
"No, really," Meiling pleaded. "I am."
Tomoyo sighed.
"I don't WANT you to be sorry! The last thing I need right now is sympathy! I have to be strong, don't you understand that?"
"What do you mean?" the Chinese girl murmured.
Meiling took a seat on the coffee table across her friend and willed herself to just listen. That friend paced back and forth frantically.
"Think... If I wasn't so weak in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. I... it just seems too late to fix it all up now."
The Chinese girl resisted the temptation to make a crack at Tomoyo's being pessimistic, and suppressed the urge to reassure her friend with an embrace. She just had to listen for once. Listen.
"Chiharu was right... Things went downhill when I disappeared, and it's all because I had to mess things up. I couldn't deal with reality, just living so... so into my stupid, girlish dream that when it came true I ruined it with my ignorance... and my selfishness. No, none of this was Sakura-chan's doing-"
In mid-sentence the Japanese girl raised her eyes to look at Meiling for a moment, and then quickly diverted them to the fateful eraser that had found its way back into her hands, stammering as she sped up her pacing.
"--e-even after the op-peration, I was living a life of loneliness, c-constant doubt, taking on Sakura-chan's characteristics- you saw how clumsy I've been- not even caring to try my best anymore... making old paintings of Sakura-chan... living for myself... it didn't matter if I was perfect, because... because there was no one there to impress... I was just so... so empty."
Tomoyo massaged some dirt off of the face of the eraser, trying not to smudge it across the bunny's face design. So much for waking up a different person, running down the stairs and settling things with Sakura once and for all. Pathetic. That's what she was, just pathetic, feeling sorry for herself like this...
She collapsed on the couch beside Meiling.
"Hey... Living for yourself was a step in the right direction."
Tomoyo scoffed.
"Maybe it would have been if... if I was someone worth living for... if... if I was anyone other than me."
Meiling gently lifted Tomoyo's head up from her hands and slowly wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. She smiled, and wondered if Tomoyo realized she was showing dangerous symptoms of grinning as well.
"You know you want me to say that's not true."
"Say it."
"That's not true, Tomoyo-chan," she said passionately.
"Liar," Tomoyo only half-joked.
"Why do you beat yourself up like that?"
Blue eyes dropped back down to count the teardrops on the floor.
"Tomoyo-chan," Meiling began, "don't think you have to suffer through this alone. I hate feeling sorry for myself as much as you do, especially when I remember there are so many people that have it worse."
The other girl shook her head.
"But look at us; we're only human, after all. And the best that we can do is the best that we can do. It isn't easy to love someone who won't spare you a second look."
Tomoyo raised her eyes to her friend's as she dropped the eraser. It didn't make a sound.
If the Chinese girl was aware of how watery her dark red eyes were becoming, she gave no sign of it. This much was clear to her- Meiling was as needy as she was... If not more.
"What is it that you haven't told me, Meiling-chan? Was it... Why were you--?"
"No... That doesn't matter now. No, not now."
She held Tomoyo close. Tomoyo reciprocated, a little stronger than she had anticipated, and just about as strong as she had hoped. It was the first time in her life Meiling felt someone latch on to her as tightly as she did onto Shaoran.
Tomoyo laughed. It was a disconcerting, unstable, half-crying laugh, but still sane enough to inspire comment.
"W-what is it?"
The blue-eyed girl shook her head again, this time less subtly, still laughing like a madwoman. "I feel like Sakura-chan."
Meiling smirked.
"You mean you feel like you're the only one who doesn't know what's going on, or you feel like your life is just a huge conspiracy?"
"Both!"
The girls burst out into sudden laughter, and the rest of the night passed like a drunken dream as they faded in and out of consciousness, sorrows and comforts melded into an overwhelming flood of repressed emotion. Neither Meiling nor Tomoyo knew or cared whether they had laughed or cried themselves to sleep.
Sunday, 10:31 AM
The brown-haired girl tilted her head up from behind the schoolbag on her desk a moment to look down the huge bowl-shaped classroom to where her plump yet bone faced-professor was criticizing the degeneration of musical theatre. 'Ah, the wonders of the Internet,' Sakura thought as she sat patiently behind her desk. A classmate had e-mailed her earlier that morning saying that their professor would give 10 points of extra credit on the term paper to anyone who could make it for an extensive, four-hour lecture that morning - a Sunday morning. Sunday morning! Who goes to college on a SUNDAY? It was a ridiculous demand, but even Sakura Kinomoto knew that 10 points on a term paper was nothing to scoff at. Especially when hers was a badly written essay with three pages missing. And that half of it was drenched from water rainwater washed off Kero-chan's fur.
"Maybe I am a little afraid," Sakura whispered into her cell-phone, hiding her head behind her schoolbag.
Besides, even if Sakura believed that Mrs. Harrop, who asserted that she came from somewhere called "Seattle", was the worst professor in the world, anything that took her mind off of her upcoming meeting with Tomoyo the next day was definitely worth the time.
"You've accepted that it's not all your fault, right?" Eriol replied, unable to fully disguise his aggravation at being kept on the line for over ten hours.
"Uh-huh."
"And you're ready to explain the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth to her?"
"Yup."
Eriol held his breath. He tried not to get his hopes up, but he was quite sure this was the end of it. "Then tell her- if she accepts and understands, then you two can start your friendship all over again."
"And if she doesn't?"
The magician pushed up his glasses.
"If she doesn't, then be a good friend and tell her I'm hosting a cocktail party in Winchester this weekend," he joked, and then quickly added, "Oh, Sakura, do you doubt she'll understand? We're talking about events that happened three years ago, after all..."
The light-brown-haired one sat in silence for a minute. For once in the past ten hours, Eriol wished she'd say something.
"I've been so selfish," Sakura finally managed.
The man on the other line sat up in his couch.
"Dragging Shao-kun with me everywhere... Bugging my brother over in Tokyo every waking hour..."
"Yes, yes," Eriol said with veiled excitement. It wouldn't be long before his name came up.
"It's not that I don't care... I love them... I'm... Maybe I'm just not paying enough attention, kind of like treating them as if their lives revolve around me," she said with a laugh. "I mean, the way I act, you'd think I was the main character of some TV show!"
Eriol slapped his forehead. Sakura stood up in her seat despite herself, and the boring lecture.
"Hoe! Just listen to what I'm saying! Even right now, I'm standing here, talking about myself when we're supposed to be discussing Tomo—"
"SAKURA!"
Eriol was shocked by the scream until he realized it didn't come from him. He listened intently.
"Shaoran!"
On the other side of the world, Sakura looked down from her seat in the far back of the semicircular raised platform, and waved down to the exhausted-looking man who had apparently just burst in, oblivious to the confused stares both of them were getting from her professor and classmates.
"I've... standing here... calling your name... three minutes..."
He was breathing deeply, trying very hard not to look like he had to lean on something to keep from falling over.
"Hey Shaoran, guess who I've got on the other line?"
There was a pause.
"Santa Claus," he blurted out.
And then an immediate reply.
"No silly," she began with a grin and shake of her head. "It's---"
"I DON'T CARE WHO IT IS!" the brown-eyed boy bellowed out with a tug of the green scarf around his neck. "Listen, Sakura, I've had one hell of an exceptionally baaaaaaaaaaad week, and wait- no, screw that- an exceptionally bad year, and, it's not like I'm blaming your or anything, but, well, let me get to the point, my cousin woke me up last night with a kiss- A SLOPPY WET KISS- and then when I called her insane, she criticized me for my drinking problem! And... and crazy as she is, that woman's ramblings unveiled to me a deep down universal truth! I realized something! I did! I swear I did!"
He paused. For effect of because he was too hung-over to continue, neither Shaoran nor Sakura were sure.
"Are you... coming out?"
Fists clenched, he comforted the rage building within himself with a simple "no."
"Oh, good," Sakura began, relieved. "Um... Not that there would be anything wrong with that, honey."
After blushing at the word 'honey', Shaoran said "Yeah, I know. What I was saying was—"at the same time his girlfriend went on to confess, "It's just, someone close to me did that before, and—"
Sakura caught herself and snapped her mouth shut, covering it in shock of her own carelessness. The Chinese boy grunted.
"You go first," he said.
"No, you," she said with a smile. Sakura caught herself in the act of almost revealing Tomoyo's secret. Even after telling Eriol, she was still horribly nervous about it. Still, if she was ever to tell Shaoran about the Penguin Park Incident, there were better places and times to do so.
Then the Chinese boy nodded.
"What I was saying was..." he scratched his wooly-haired head. "Err..." He looked around at the wide-eyed class of fifty or sixty students. "I forgot," he muttered finally, tugging at the scarf again, this time as if it was a noose.
Another pause. The most uncomfortable so far in this chapter. Sakura tried keeping her eyes on her boyfriend- Mrs. Harrop looked like she was going to kill someone.
"Hey, Shaoran?"
"Yes?"
"Isn't that the scarf I made you way back when we were kids?"
"Y-yes."
"Oh."
"Look, I—"
"Oh, yeah!" Sakura exclaimed. "Why don't you say hi to Eriol?"
Not quite sure where this conversation had gone wrong, Shaoran sighed.
"Why not?" he said, as if to concede defeat, and then began an uneasy trot up the stairs.
Holding out her cell phone, Sakura stole a quick peek at her classmates. The green-eyed girl wondered how long her professor could keep her grumpy face so wrinkled up. And it was hard to tell what the other students were enjoying more- missing Theatre History or the show that Sakura and her hung-over boyfriend were putting on for them.
"Hi," Shaoran mumbled droll into the cell phone, accepting the death of his dramatic presence in the room.
"Shaoran Li, thank goodness! I need a huge favor from you!"
"Not right now," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm the one that needs a miracle."
"Need I remind you that I am your ancestor?" Eriol said nonchalantly.
"The reincarnation of my ancestor, a guy who just so happens to have his memories," Shaoran was quick to point out.
"What-ever. Look, don't let your girlfriend's naïveté distract you. I heard what you were saying out there, and I feel your pain."
"Y-you do?"
"Whatever it is, just tell her it straight, then bolt like a bunny."
The Chinese boy laughed. "No need, I'll just jump out the window."
Sakura's eyes bulged open.
"There's a window? All right, this is what I need you to do..."
Sakura watched curiously as Shaoran nodded his head and arched his eyebrows strangely, and she was about to lean forward and ask what was wrong when suddenly her boyfriend ran up the stairs of the platform, pulled open a window, aimed, and tossed out her cell phone.
"Shaoran! Wha---"
"Don't worry," he assured her. "Wei's down there with a trampoline."
"Trampoline?"
The Chinese youth smirked.
"Just in case you felt the need to toss me out the window."
"H-hoe?" Sakura was long-overdue for some head-scratching. "Why would I do--?"
"BecauseIwasafraidofwhatyou'ddowhenItoldyouthatIwantsometimeoff." He braced himself.
"HOE!"
Sakura's classmates, whom Shaoran came to realize were mostly women, all gasped in unison.
"Iie... it's... it's not like a permanent break-up or anything, I-I just need some time off, ya know? A vacation! I mean, life is getting... complicated."
All eyes were on Sakura, but her usually expressive face gave away no indication of her mood.
"I understand," she said with a placid nod.
Shaoran smiled.
"Thank you... I don't know how long I'll be gone," he began with a glance out the window, "but when I get back I promise I'll be a better man. And as for Daidouji-san..."
Pulling his scarf back, Shaoran leaned in towards Sakura and whispered something into her ear. Sakura nodded and giggled as he pulled away, goosing him before he had the chance to run off.
"Take care... And don't forget to change your underwear every day," she reminded him with a wink.
Stopping in mid-skip to absorb Sakura's statement, Shaoran stumbled down the semi-circular platform's stairs. He gathered himself up in a flash and threw Sakura one last salute on his way out of the room, quick to avoid meeting Mrs. Harrop's glare.
Sakura blushed. The class erupted in a round of raucous applause when the door closed shut after him.
(Another spinning-card commercial thing goes here)
Sunday, 10:47 AM
"Hey, it's the Chinaman!"
After descending the building's primary staircase, Shaoran spun on his heels. Kendo, Johto, Yeko and Sato were waiting for him near the entrance to the building, plastic bags filled with spray paint cans and six-packs of beer in each of their hands that wasn't holding a skateboard. He spun back around to face the doorway.
"You stood us up the other night when we egged the Tendo residence," Sato said gruffly. "We almost got caught without you and your weapon to scare 'em off!"
Keeping his head down, Shaoran continued to be on his way.
Yeko ran up and grabbed the Chinese boy by the collar of his shirt. "That hot redhead and her pet panda were chasin' us for like half an hour, 'blademaster'..."
Pushing his 'friend' away, Shaoran glanced at each of them in turn.
"Well, you made it out alive, didn't you?"
They were silent.
"Come on, boys, it's Sunday," Johto said, filing his nails. "We can forgive him for that little incident... Let's talk about this over a couple drinks."
Shaoran shook his head. "I'm through drinking, Johto."
They looked like he just announced his own suicide.
"No more. Not for me," he said once more as he resumed his stride. "And I suggest you all follow my example."
Ignoring their protests and threats, Shaoran closed the door behind him as he walked up to Wei, who pretended like he wasn't just jumping on a trampoline five seconds before, and eyed the cell phone in his hand.
"Eriol Hiiragizawa. Don't give it back to Sakura until you delete his number, all right?"
"I won't. Have a good trip, Shaoran."
"Thank you, Wei."
"Shaoran-kun! Hurry up already!"
Chiharu Mihara and Takashi Yamazaki were both leaning against the latter's Porsche, the former more than a little impatient.
"Shotgun!" Shaoran called out as Wei tossed him his duffel bag.
"Not in my car," Takashi said with a smile. "You know what they say about the bad luck involved in making a Japanese woman sit in the back seat of a sports ca-"
"Shut it," both Shaoran and Chiharu said in unison.
Takashi shrugged as he pulled his seat back to let Shaoran in. This was going to be one long road trip.
Sunday, 2:23 PM
Meiling took a sip out of the "lunch" Sonomi had evidently brought up for her daughter. Not bad for chicken soup, though the Chinese girl was sure Tomoyo could have made it much better. It was boiling hot- she had to blow her first spoonful a good five times before she could ingest it.
Looking around, Meiling wondered for the third time since she'd woken up ten minutes before how she managed to run all the way to her Tomoyo-chan's house in a nightgown and raincoat.
Speaking of Tomoyo, where was she? Maybe if she had some more of the soup, the answer would come to her. But that would have to wait awhile. The maroon-eyed girl stood up and took the bowl out with her onto the balcony, leaving her hair down so it could blow softly on the autumn wind. It was a beautiful sight. The city, that is, not Meiling. Well, okay, she was actually looking kind of cute.
Suddenly the Chinese girl felt two hands on her shoulders.
"I see you're awake, darling... I've had to reheat that soup every twenty minutes waiting for you to wake up."
"Um..."
"Oh, what have you done to your hair? Never mind... You had a friend over last night, didn't you? It appears she's left already... Mei-- Meilin, the bratty one, right? "
Meiling grit her teeth, and didn't care if Sonomi could feel her shoulders tense. She put the bowl down on the balcony railing.
"Or," the older woman reacted to the shoulder tension. "Or is she... Has she become more than a friend?" Daidouji-sama sounded pained, and more than a little worried. "It's okay, Tomoyo, you can tell—"
"WHAT are you TALKING about?" Meiling shouted, red-faced, knocking the bowl of piping-hot soup over the balcony with her elbow as she turned around to face Sonomi. Tomoyo's mom looked more than a little shocked.
A blood-curdling scream followed soon after, with the words 'pain', 'help' and 'aaaahhhh!' resonating from one of Sonomi's bodyguards who was down patrolling the garden when she found herself suddenly covered in skin-melting, reheated chicken soup.
"Oh, go put a band-aid on it!" Sonomi screamed before dragging Meiling into the house and sitting her down on Tomoyo's bed.
"Where did she go?" she barked at Meiling, shaking her by the shoulders. There was no need to ask who 'she' was.
"Don't ask me," Meiling frowned. "I just woke up. I wouldn't know."
As Sonomi took a seat beside the Chinese girl, Meiling stole a glance over at the corner leading into Tomoyo's home theater room. The two halves of the tacky-looking bag and the bunny eraser formerly on the floor were now missing.
'But I could make a very good guess,' she thought to herself, lying down on the bed and positioning herself so that she could see out through the balcony, past the clouds, towards the bright blue sky.
"For luck, Tomoyo-chan," Meiling said out loud with one outstretched pinky in the air.
(To Be Continued Sign goes here)