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More than just friends
Ryonan Girl
I - Headstrong*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
If I were to explicate myself right now, it would be like . . .
Noboru Nanami (NOH-boh-ru Nah-NAH-mee) n. 1. Nerd who likes basketball 2. Nerd who is unattractive to boys but a magnet to danger . . . and stuff. 3. One who is extremely violent when provoked 4. Best friend and sometime "manager" of Akira Sendoh (see jock, basketball star and idiot) Synonyms nerd (of course), crammer, claustrophobic, tv freak, worrier, disdainful, sadist, etcetera, etcetera.
That's me. That's partly my whole life described in sixty-one words or more. Of course there are other key players in my life . . . there's my mom, who's a great cook and all, but too hotheaded for her own good, My dad, who has his own self-conscious world all the time, my egotistic, domineering brother, who's in another world too: college in abroad, Yukino, my other best friend . . . if you call such a carping megalomaniac a friend (please don't kill me Yuki) . . . and finally Sendoh. My best friend. My cumpadre. My (sort of) sidekick.
I've been with him for, like, forever. I just remember moving here in Kanagawa when I was four. Then Mrs. Sendoh invited us to dinner, which was really extraordinary because I had never been invited to dinner in other houses before. My mom, dad, brother and I were idling in the living room when suddenly, a toy plane landed on my feet. I picked it up, then, at the same time, Sendoh did too. It was awesome, because it was like in a movie. He had one of his cheerful, boyish smiles plastered on his face even then. Plus, his hair was also spiked. And mine was still straight before, not like my currently curly hair. I smiled back at him, and instantly afterwards, he and I became friends.
He must be the closest guy to me in the planet. Well, my father and brother are different . . . not that they're not male too . . . but they're just family. That's completely different. And have I mentioned that Sendoh's a "sensational" basketball player at our local high school? And the whole Kanagawa prefecture. Now that's something to brag about, including the fact, like I said, that I've known him forever . . . well, since four. He's got people (mostly boy-crazy teenage girls) throwing themselves at his feet. Lucky him.
Me? I quit playing basketball in the little girls' league since junior high. I'm now playing with the big boys, and I don't exactly get the same amount of respect from them. I'm not really playing, but instructing them . . . bossing them around. That's what managers do. I'm proud to say that I'm the manager of the basketball team of Ryonan High. I sort of volunteered for the job since I was a big basketball freak, like I said. And aside from that, Mom has a connection with our crinkled coach, Taoka (Mom again). Not that I hate the poor (and quite old) guy (Another comment: His hair is thinning already). He just can be a prick sometimes, like he can be bossier than I. Imagine that.
Speaking of Ryonan High, I've to hightail there immediately, or else the classroom would probably be locked on me. Tae, our new and outlandish helper, did not wake me up. And, she turned off my alarm clock. I think. This happens in several occasions. Then instead of walking to school, I'll ask dad for a ride, then he'll blame everything on me for being late. Like one time . . .
"You're too slow!!! I'm gonna be late for class! Please press the gas pedal a little harder! It wouldn't bite you, you know!" I shouted. Or something like that.
My father would be all cool and grown-up when I do that. He said nonchalantly, "Well, don't blame me for your tardiness. You should have gone out of bed when Tae called you."
"But she didn't call me."
"Then you should have gone out of bed when your alarm clock rang."
"It did not. Somebody turned it off," (I actually forgot to set it at that time) ". . . I specifically told Tae to wake me up."
"It's not her fault nor this 'somebody's' fault. You should have slept earlier so you wouldn't wake up late."
The argument would stop there. I would only mutter under my breath and grumpily look out of the window.
Wearing my dreary school uniform, I stopped in my tracks as I ran downstairs, remembering about Sendoh. I normally just meet him at class before. But during abnormal days like this one, I go to his house first before walking to school. Not that it's intentional. Most of my teachers complain to me about his poor attendance so I was given the task to be his personal maid. Not that I have to feed him, or even bathe him! Yuck! I just have to make sure that he wakes up. Why does he have to sleep so much. I think he only wakes up when he goes to school, then he sleeps at school, then he eats during lunch, sleeps at class again, goes to basketball practice, eats at home and immediately sleeps after that. I even wonder if he has a social life. Silly me. Of course he has. He's famous.
Walking to his house is easy. It's merely two blocks away so I save my sweat. I'm too lazy to get her mom into opening their front door, plus if I do I have to talk to her mom too. She'd be like, "Why Noboru! You're so big already! I remember you being so little before, walking in the streets wearing only your undies! You were so cute then!" Then I would be like, "(nods and looks embarrassed) Hehe . . . he . . . . . . . . he?"
So I usually just sneak to the side of the house and open the window where Sendoh's room is. I wonder why the Sendoh's don't get burglarized with this big open window at the side. The musty scent of Sendoh's room must have driven the burglars away.
I can see Sendoh, sleeping soundly (he was really producing lots of sounds with his snoring) in his white shirt and boxer shorts sprawled on his bed, which was exactly against the wall beside the window. I knocked on the pane once. No answer. Thrice, and more loudly. None still. I thought I've woken him up, but he just shifted sleepily. I wanted to shout. Shouting would do no good. His mother would just enter Sendoh's room in her curlers, pink robes and bunny slippers, and see me spying on his son. That's the least that I want to happen now. Then what would she think about the whole matter? What would my mother think? Of course what passes through Sendoh's mom would also pass through my mom. Then, at last, to me, in a form of angry shouts. Darn these leery, malicious adults!
I opened the window as carefully as possible for my carefully executed break-in.
Squeeeaaaak.
That wasn't a mouse running around through the oceans of garbage in Sendoh's room. That was just the rusty hinge of the window.
Sendoh's room does smell badly . . . like rotten gym socks or something. It's like a mini landfill. Who am I kidding, it is a mini landfill.
Breathing air from the outside first and covering my nose, I pinched Sendoh's face. "Hey, wake up, won't you?"
He murmured something undecipherable, like, "hmhmhmnnn . . . when the oven is cooked . . . hmhmnnnh." What was that all about? I grimaced.
I slapped his face. Nothing. Then I shook him like crazy. No response still.
Frustrated with Sendoh's lack of caffeine, I woke him up in the most likely way. With his alarm clock.
I picked up the useless thing (well, it did NOT wake Sendoh up, did it?), and threw it at my unsuspecting victim's head. It gave a pleasing sound as it bounced lightly on Sendoh's skull and down on the floor. Good thing it's only plastic. And then, it actually rang from the impact.
Sendoh's finally woke up and he jumped to his feet in surprise. He looked at me like I was crazy.
"What the . . . Why did you do that?" He complained, touching the bruise on his head. C'mon, it wasn't so bad . . . actually it is. Now, I feel guilty.
"Did what?" I asked innocently.
"You know what . . . like abuse me. You almost broke my head in half. Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" he said pathetically. I knew he was joking. Or is he?
I laughed at that. It seemed like a very sick soap opera. "Why do you have to be so cruel?" That was so lame!
"Huh? Why are you laughing?" Sendoh demanded, still sounding half-asleep. He was pulling back his hair, which immediately stood up by itself. Like flowers in cartoons when they're sprinkled with water.
"Sorry. I defy cruelty to animals, especially to porcupines," I scoffed.
He sleepily grinned and whined, "Why did you wake me up anyway? At this hour?"
I stared hard at Sendoh until his knees melted in fear - and they didn't. How can he forget about today?
"We have school today, remember?"
When I said that, Sendoh didn't seem sleepy anymore. He glared at me, like he was about to kill me. "Today's Saturday."
I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Oh."
"Oh," Sendoh repeated, rolling his eyes.
"Oh . . . I didn't know. Sorry," I said apologetically.
He groaned. "You're such a . . . jerk."
I laughed. Me? Jerk? What a comeback.
"That's all you can come up with? I woke you up on a Saturday morning and all you say is that I'm a jerk?"
"Well . . . you really are. Do you truly intend to be so annoying?" Sendoh grumbled, obviously fumbling for words, and went back to his bed and covered himself with his blanket.
"So you're going back to sleep, although I'm standing here in your room?" I said crossly.
"Are you that special that I have to pass my lack of sleep?" Sendoh retorted.
Comments like those truly impale my heart. I just tried to ignore it.
"Yes I am that special," I said sensitively. "Err . . . what did you do during the night anyway? Break into other people's houses?"
"Probably," Sendoh said sarcastically. "I actually woke up unsuspecting people when they were happily drowsing off."
"Look, why don't we just take a walk outside to lighten up my . . . your mood," I said nicely.
"Okay, okay," Sendoh agreed, miraculously. "I'll just change."
He got up and head towards the bathroom. I only noticed that I was watching him all the way when he peered at me from the door. "Wouldn't you also like to change into normal clothes?"
And I only noticed now that I was also wearing my school uniform. "Fine."
I jumped out of his room and walked back to my house without telling him.
The front door was unlocked, so I entered the house easily. The living room reeked of Mom's buttery pancakes from the kitchen, which was wide open. I got a glimpse of Mom and Dad at the table, both reading the papers. How thrilling. Mom saw me just as I sprinted on the stairs to my room.
"Noboru, where have you gone and why are you wearing your uniform?" she shouted at me.
"Long story," I responded. Not really long but, oh well. I ran into my and changed into my track suit. I shouted back at mom, "And I have to go now!"
"Why?!"
"I have basketball practice!!" I yelled as I dashed downstairs wearing my socks.
Actually, we didn't have basketball practice today. Uozumi, our team captain, was also a sadist, but face it: It is a Saturday. There's no way he's gonna make us practice today . . . But I'm only going to make Sendoh practice. I'm such a bully.
"Okay. Have fun!" I heard Mom call back willingly.
I slid my feet into my Converse sneaks and grabbed my old basketball, which were both situated under the stairs.
Running out, I saw Sendoh waiting for me, leaning lazily on the post. He usually does that. It gives him a "bad boy" look. Ha!
I walked in front of him. As usual, he was lost in his own Sendoh-ish world.
"Hey," I greeted, waving my hands before his face.
He looked up at me and sheepishly smiled. "What took you so long?"
"That was long already?" I protested. "That was actually a world record already . . . The fastest changing of clothes."
He shrugged in reply. "So where do you wanna go?"
Sendoh glanced at my basketball and at me. He instantly knew where we're heading. Not that he complains. He loves basketball, more than I do. It's his first love. Maybe his first kiss was with a basketball too. Me? My first kiss was with my parents . . . Lame. After that I was never kissed by anyone else. Not that I wanted it.
I know some are asking if I've ever kissed Sendoh. NO! Not that I want to! Actually I don't want to. He probably has halitosis. And I'd probably get sick and have allergic reactions. The closest action that happened between us was when I hugged him before. Way before. Coincidentally, I got a mild case of fever after that.
"Well, are you in the mood?" I asked him.
"I always am," Sendoh answered.
If we said that in a more fervent way, green-minded people would probably get a wrong idea and stare at us. That's okay with me. There was a misconception that Sendoh and I are . . . well . . . a couple. Whatever. I've known him for so long and I never had an interest in him. But he is okay in my standards; he's funny and down-to-earth . . . and I trust him and all. But, face it, he's not my type. My type is a rock star kind of guy . . . one who is rich, popular, deep, artistic, musically-talented, older and, well, really gorgeous. Sendoh's a little kid compared to that. He can't ever sing! He's a basketball genius, but frankly speaking, he sucks in music.
We jogged to our most sacred place, our secret garden . . . or basketball court. It was our portal to our alternate universe free from turmoil of school life. Aside from the metal railings, the court was outlined with tall trees, all green and none withering. The air was not too cold and not too hot either, and there was no one else there but us. Sometimes some other people go to the park to play ball too. But they're not the kind of people who would disturb us in any way. We had our own schemes and we are independent; we do things our own way. The place was simply paradise.
I believe I've been irreparably damaged by television.
It seemed that Sendoh was already bored. You can see it in his eyes. They were drooping already.
Attempting to enliven him, I threw the ball at him. Without looking at me, he caught it swiftly in his hands. Smirking, he tossed the ball high in the air, ran after it and slammed it into the ring . . . Cool.
"Was that a challenge?" I inquired. "Because that wasn't good enough."
Sendoh just laughed. We both knew that I wasn't that good. Like I said, Sendoh's a basketball genius and I'm a basketball retard.
We played for a while. Once you got Sendoh playing, it's hard to stop him. But, he lets me win points all the time. Maybe that's because I'm not worthy of his 100% power.
"Ha! I'm winning over the greatest basketball player in Kanagawa," I said proudly, trying to spin the ball on my finger.
Sendoh just kept his calm but creepy smile. "You haven't won yet."
Upon that, he swatted the ball off my finger, and tossed it into the ring before I could get hold of it. It entered the hoop, but somehow, it got stuck on the net.
"That's my brother's! You did that on purpose," I complained childishly, looking at the ball from beneath the net.
"You know better . . . I wouldn't want to offend your brother on purpose," Sendoh grinned. He knows how my brother can be like when he's irritated. "Besides, it's easy to get it down."
"What comes up, must come down," I quoted. "The law of gra . . . Ouch!"
The ball bounced on my head, and I dropped to the ground with it. That really hurts! That blow would definitely deform my skull.
"Awwwwwww . . ." I groaned, still lying on the floor. I just couldn't stand up now.
Sendoh quickly rushed to my side.
"Are you okay?" he said worriedly. He lightly touched the part where the ball dropped.
"Ouch, that part hurts!" I squeaked huffily, pressing both my hands on my head because of excruciation. My voice changes when I'm pained. Sendoh immediately pulled back his hand.
I sighed, "But I'm okay . . . I hope."
"Do you want ice or something?" Sendoh queried.
"Yeah . . . but ice cream will do. My stomach's grumbling," I said wearily.
"If you're doing this to make me buy food for you, then it's not working," Sendoh said, but with more concern in his voice than doubt.
"What are you saying? I am in deep pain . . . awwwwwww . . ." I said miserably.
Sendoh just stared at me questioningly. I gave him my sad puppy-dog eyes. He can't say no to that. No one ever did.
"The puppy dog eyes again?" he said doubtfully, "That won't work this time."
He looked away from me. I watched him still, as he glanced back and sighed.
"Fine . . . " Sendoh affirmed smilingly, helping me up.
"Yay!" I exclaimed like a four-year-old, "But my head does hurt."
"What? You want me to kiss it for you now?" Sendoh began, as we walked out of the court.
I glared at him.
"That was a joke," he laughed.
"Riiiiight."
I was still putting my hands on my head. It was throbbing, but I forgot the pain soon enough as we continued to stroll.
Silence.
I started talking, "Aren't you sleepy?"
"Not much."
"You said you still wanted to sleep."
"I still do."
I laughed. Sendoh can be so vague sometimes. Actually, most of the time.
"What were you dreaming about in your sleep anyway? Basketball? Food? Sleeping?" I continued to ask.
He looked straight up at the bright morning sky. He paused for a while before answering me . . .
"You, actually."
T.B.C. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- A/N. Wow. That was a pretty long intro! I decided to remake MTJF because I believe I could have done a slightly better job than before. So what do you think? Is the older version better or the newer one? I'm so sorry for not updating for the past six months (a reviewer told me that, and I thank her for the quick update), and I did read your uplifting messages for me. I got inspired because of your constant support so I decided to continue when I was on the brink of discontinuity. Thank you very much! P.S. Another reviewer told me that the name "Tae" means, well, feces in her country. Well, I actually knew that and that's why I used it!