chapter 8
Everyone has silly rituals that they repeat on regular occasions; in Wallace's case, he always felt the urge to touch the outside of the plane whenever he would board or get off of one. He had no idea why he had to do it, or when this habit first started, but he had done it enough times to notice that it was, in fact, a habit. It was always easier to do when boarding, for the line always moved much slower as the people ahead secured their luggage and found their seats. Getting off was a different matter though, and after a 12-hour flight, Wallace figured that everyone would be in an impatient rush to get off the plane as soon as possible. His suspicions were soon confirmed, but fortunately an elderly woman was directly ahead of him in line. Her sluggish pace annoyed the other passengers, but it gave him the time to satisfy his curiosity. As he crossed the threshold between the hatch and the tunnel that lead back to the terminal, he reached out and ran his finger in a circular motion around a bolt along the outside of the door. It was slightly rusted and cold to the touch.
Finally the hunchbacked woman waddled into the tunnel, allowing Wallace and everyone else in line to walk around her. He felt sorry for her and sincerely wanted to help, but his Good Samaritan instincts were shot down by the realization that she might misunderstand his gesture. Just find Hikari and Daisuke and you'll be fine. There's no need to freak someone out the second you get off the plane. He also wasn't sure if he would be able to make it to the terminal himself, for the day had left him feeling dizzy, famished, and above all, exhausted. The food on the plane was less than appetizing: a mess of carrots in some kind of cream sauce that had the stringiness of most Japanese food he had tasted, and the greasiness of most American cuisine. It's fine to try to please everyone, he thought. But you shouldn't when it comes to food. Crossing the International Date Line rendered his internal clock and circadian rhythm haywire. He didn't even know what time it was, let alone what day. He reminded himself that he would soon be at home (whatever that is anymore) and free to sleep in for the two weeks before the beginning of school. He'd be busy, but there would be plenty of time to get acquainted with his new surroundings and catch up with his friends.
Friends? I barely know them! With the exception of Hikari, he really did not know very much about any of the others, save for Daisuke. Heh, I never would have guessed that he was, "like that", not if Hikari hadn't told me. Still, he worried. What if everyone sees me as some kind of freak? He remembered how he and his classmates used to treat foreign exchange students at his old school. They would constantly tease them and make fun of their limited understanding of English, their attempts to fit in and be "American" and anything else that made them different. It was always good-natured, but Wallace didn't know if he could take it himself. Oh well, he thought, it's not like I don't deserve it. It's probably time the tables were turned. He readjusted his backpack and set himself to finding his companions.
Walking down the tunnel he could hear the faintest echoes of sound coming from the terminal, a sonic collage of atomized PA announcements, whistling luggage carts and a chorus of voices speaking in a tongue he could not understand. He was thankful that his friends knew English well. They spoke it well enough that upon first meeting them he was shocked to find out that they weren't American. I hope they don't get tired of having to speak it though. It wasn't his intention to make his presence as fun as sitting in a foreign language class.
He could see the end of the tunnel, the bright exit that led to the spacious terminal. As he approached it his senses became overwhelmed to the point that if they were standing right in front of him, he might still not see them. Standing at the gate in what seemed to be a sea of people, he realized for the first time just how far he was from America. His eyes darted across the crowd, and he decided that he would simply wait for them to find him. Hey, how hard can it be to spot a white boy in Japan? What followed was one of the most picturesque moments of his life, not that it was an extraordinarily unlikely event or even something that anyone else watching could have appreciated, but that it unfolded in a storybook manner that he felt he had no right to even wish for. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.
"Hi Wallace," Hikari said, smiling and holding a bouquet of colorful flowers. She looked just like he remembered her, and she was even wearing that outfit that he was crazy about.
"Hikari…" he threw his arms around her and they held each other close until the crowd from Wallace's flight finished filing off the plane. When they finished hugging, he naturally folded his hands in front of him, just as she did, and in a simultaneous natural reaction they held hands. For a moment they just stared into each other's eyes, and it was all that Wallace could have hoped for. Well, maybe it's not a good as my dream, but she's even more beautiful in real life. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too Wallace," she said. "I can't believe you're finally here."
"I know," he sighed. "I wasn't sure if I was going to survive the trip."
Hikari giggled. "Well I'm glad you did. C'mon, let's go. The others are waiting."
He took the flowers from her and they walked down the aisle to where the others were sitting. Yamato was reading concert reviews in a newspaper, and Taichi had the sports section. Daisuke laid sprawled out across a row of plastic seats, much the way that Wallace was over a half-day ago, and Takeru sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. When Takeru saw him he smacked Daisuke across the knee and ran to Wallace. Not knowing what kind of greeting to expect, Wallace was rather surprised when Takeru offered him a traditional American greeting. They exchanged high-fives.
"It's great to see you again TK!" Wallace exclaimed.
"It's Takeru," Daisuke said. "This isn't America, Willis." Wallace held out his hand to Daisuke, but was suddenly pulled into a bear hug. He barely had time to pull his flowers out from in between them before Daisuke squeezed the breath out of him, picked him up and spun him around.
"I never thought I'd see you again!" Daisuke wailed. "Don't ever leave me like that again!"
"I didn't leave you," Wallace choked out. "You left me…remember?" Same old Daisuke, he thought. I just hope Takeru doesn't get jealous.
"Oh yeah. I forgot." Daisuke let go of Wallace, who took a few gasps before he could speak again.
"I'm…I'm happy to see you too Daisuke. Hey, what happened to your head?"
"What? Oh, my head. Um…uh…Takeru?"
"It's a long story," Takeru sighed. "Oh, Wallace, I'd like to introduce you to my brother Yamato." The tall blonde boy standing next to him extended his hand.
"Hello Wallace. Welcome to Japan."
"It's nice to meet you Yamato," Wallace said as they shook hands.
"Aren't you going to say, 'no autographs, please'?" Taichi laughed at their private joke, but it was lost on everyone else. "Uh…hi Wallace. I'm Taichi, Hikari's brother."
"Hi Taichi. Hikari's told me so much about you." He seems friendly enough. Wallace wanted to make sure he got on Taichi's good side as soon as possible, but it didn't look like that was going to be a big problem.
"And you can be sure that he'll fill you in on the rest by the end of the day," Yamato remarked, grinning at Taichi.
By now Wallace began to realize how hungry he was, and hoped that they would offer him some food soon. Asking for it will just make me sound like a demanding American snob, he thought. Way to make a good first impression. Wallace was relieved when Hikari suggested that they find his luggage, so they dispensed with their small talk and proceeded to the baggage claim. After twenty minutes the first suitcases slid down the ramp and they soon collected his bags, four in all. Everyone insisted on carrying one, so Wallace and Hikari walked side-by-side back to the car. They lagged behind the others, holding hands and joking about things; Yamato's car, Daisuke's memory loss, the old woman on the plane... His palms were sweaty, but she'd never know.
...end of chapter 8
