Author's Notes: So the story begins… (Dun, dun, dun)! After this chapter things will start moving at a normal pace. It's the character introductions that are going to kill us all. Don't worry, I'll try and stray a little from my normal amount of detail/jargon but, let me tell you, it's going to be a challenge.
R&R
Enjoy!
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Chapter One: Under Covers
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Miyami Kinomiya took a deep breath, holding her ankle in her hand, leaning forward and bringing her leg above her head.
She stood alone at the center of a large room—bare of furniture and other simple ornaments. Wide glass windows stretched upwards from the floor, expanding over most of the far wall opposite the entrance. The space smelt of fresh paint and lemon spray and the pastel yellow colour added a needed tranquility. Sunlight poured in from the outside, bouncing off the glossy mahogany floors.
Miyami watched an invisible spot across the room, standing again on both feet. She stretched her arms towards the ceiling and arched backwards until her hands touched the red yoga mat beneath her.
The new house seemed lonely and detached, unlike her former home in Blackburn. Her mother had chosen it from a catalogue of estates, recently renovated and complete with furnishings. Nothing inside belonged to them; items of sentimental value still packed tightly within labeled moving boxes.
Both of her parents were still sleeping above her on the third floor and, though she was the youngest of four, she was the only sibling currently wandering the vast corridors of the miniature mansion. Her older brothers and sister were flying in the week after, finishing their schooling before they made the transition to America.
She had been an exception.
Completing an hour of yoga, she felt nimble and relaxed, prepared for the day's coming adventures. It had only been four days since the plane landed yet she was already hurrying into a regular adolescent routine of books and assignments.
It didn't concern her, never having been a nervous person, but the five o'clock-morning sessions worked away any doubts or unsettling thoughts.
Toweling off a thin coat of sweat she padded, barefoot, through the door and into the hallway. The grey sweatpants she wore were sticky and the tight white wife-beater was wet on her chest and back.
Unpleasant beeping rung shrilly and the house came suddenly alive at the dim memory of chaotic wardrobe-fishing and last minute kitchen free-for-alls.
Today I changed
It's too late
'Cause everyone stayed the same
I'm gone, so long
Break out, 'cause I'm better off on my own
Miyami dashed into her room, ducking a torpedo of soaring men's footwear as her father staggered from the shared master bedroom; one sock slipping from the tip of his left foot while the other hung in his mouth.
He grunted an inaudible good morning to Miyami while he stumbled towards the staircase, hopping unsteadily down the steps with his back against the cream coloured walls.
Closing her bedroom door behind her, she lunged over the unmade mattress, settled awkwardly at an angle on the floor. An open suitcase lay on its other side, articles spilling into the room in a messy fashion.
Hardly considering what she was pulling from the half-packed chaos, Miyami stripped out of her pajamas, simultaneously sliding into a pair of loose jeans.
Today I changed
It's too late
'Cause every town feels the same
I'm different and you're distant
Add it up and it makes no difference
Her mother's actions had decided Miyami's hygienic fate for the oncoming day as she announced her reign of the bathroom. Tossing her daughter a toothbrush and toothpaste before she closed the door, the fair-faced woman sung some pre-school chores list to Miyami who listened through one ear.
Groaning and settling into a bold green tee-shirt she threw herself en route for the stairs and followed in her father's footsteps, jumping lightly to the second floor and tugging mismatched socks onto her feet.
Unfair, Miyami barked inwardly as she halted abruptly in front of their second and last working bathroom. She had narrowly escaped a collision, falling backwards onto her rear and glaring in frustration at the sounds of low humming.
Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood
Everybody's gonna break it up today
Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood
Running just to get away!
Hurtling over shoes and cluttered furniture, Miyami raced into the kitchen, proud for having survived the above two floors.
Though the disarray in that particular section of the new home was less than to be desired, it wasn't as tough to venture across; with only a few tables and chairs sitting in the hallway while their designated rooms were being painted.
"I hate moving," Miyami announced to herself, fixing a quick breakfast of Silhouette® strawberry yogurt and microwave green tea. Breathing a sigh of relief, she relished in the blissful moments after the resident relay.
The moment evaporated as seven o'clock neared.
Standing, she hoisted her bag onto one shoulder and lifted her skateboard from the chair where she had left it the previous evening. She shrugged her narrow shoulders into a faded jean jacket.
"I'm leaving!" She called up the stairs just as her father emerged from the bathroom. He offered words of encouragement and restated the school's address, knowing she had forgotten without admitting it.
Stuck in America
Stuck in America
I'm lost in America
Stuck in America
Dropping the skateboard a foot away, Miyami jumped onto the worn-looking deck, her jean-cuffs pressed underneath the brown suede VANS she had purchased at the only American event she had been too. Warped Tour.
Tyson Kinomiya, her over-enthusiastic and vigorous cousin, had invited her to California the year following his family's relocation to the United States. It was a time of emotional innocence when neither Miyami nor Tyson understood the harsh realities of teen angst and hardcore punk-rock. The Pop-Punk saw them through their early adolescence and Miyami hardly forgot the bands she used to play loudly on her stereo.
Rummaging at a stiff and awkward angle through her sidebag, she searched for her metallic pink i-pod, given to her for her early-spring birthday.
Today I changed
New town with the same old face
One way to shake this place
That I can't escape
She rode past a long strip of sweet smelling bakeries and friendly delis, the storefront awnings not yet drawn and the tables within still holding the weight of chairs that belonged with them. Inside a majority of the homely shops she passed the lights were out, allowing vivid yellow sunlight to fill the spaces richly.
I think I may enjoy living here, Miyami mused, deeming the perpetual summer feel and the close-knit community she assumed dwelt in the square apartment buildings behind and above the main road of stores and restaurants.
Laying a set of chunky silver headphones over numerously-pierced ears, she fiddled with the gadget until she found a song that mimicked her current upbeat excitement.
Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood
Everybody's gonna watch it burn today
Everybody's talking 'bout waking up the neighborhood
I'm still trying to escape
The aroma of vanilla and baked goods lingered deliciously behind her as she rounded a soft corner, ignoring the sidewalk momentarily.
When she looked back up she found herself staring at a pair of frightened amber eyes, coming closer at a senseless pace.
Realizing the situation, she threw her weight to the left. One of the front wheels on her board skidded into a conveniently placed pebble, jamming between the wheel and the deck and sending the lightweight teenager hurling into someone's well-kept shrubbery.
Miyami inhaled a mouthful of waxy green leaves and instantly spat them onto the picturesque lawn. Stuck dizzily in a magazine-worthy garden bush wasn't her idea of the perfect start in a new country.
"Are you okay?" A husky voice asked from a safe distance. Miyami couldn't see who it was, not that it really mattered as she hadn't met anybody yet. "I am so sorry," strong, muscular hands fastened themselves around her slim upper arms, giving her the extra heave to pluck her from the decorative greenery, now sporting a reasonably sized dent.
Stuck in America
Stuck in America
I'm lost in America
Stuck in America
Miyami brushed off her pinstripe jean jacket, pausing and then glancing up at the person she had collided into. Gasping, she disregarded the idea of showing him what little self-defense she knew.
He was a fair bit taller than her and gave off a very masculine feel. His hair was untidy and fell into his eyes and his skin was a sandy-olive tone. She could easily recognize he was of Asian background, likely Chinese; too often confused with someone sharing her Japanese roots.
"It's fine; only a little head trauma," She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe it isn't such a bad beginning after all. Miyami believed that destiny was involved in everything and this time, destiny had done it right.
Today…today…
The young man laughed throatily and bent down to get her skateboard. She noticed his own was tucked under his arm, off of the ground where it could be hazardous.
"Not from around here, huh?" He said, eyeing her.
"That didn't take too long," Miyami snickered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
The Chinese boy leaned in and held out his hand.
"I'm Rei," Miyami took his hand, offering her name. He pressed his thumb against the thick square-ish silver ring she wore on her thumb, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Cool,"
"What, my ring?"
"No, your style. We don't have one of you yet,"
Miyami stared, confused. Was she being stereotyped?
Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood
Everybody's gonna break it up today
Everybody's talking 'bout blowing up the neighborhood
All I ever wanted was to get away
"And that would be…?"
"Clumsy," Rei flashed a toothy lopsided grin.
Oh! He's talking about my skateboarding!
"Well, if you hadn't crashed into me, I would have been a little more graceful," Miyami placed her hands firmly on her hips, rolling the skateboard back and forth beneath one foot. Her friendly new acquaintance absentmindedly ran his fingers through his ebony hair, the watch on his wrist presenting the time.
"Shit!" Miyami cried, unconcerned with the occupants of the surrounding residences. "I'm going to be late on my first day!"
"Where are you enrolled?" Rei asked quickly as Miyami readied to bolt.
"Westmoor,"
"Me too," He smiled wider. "Classes don't start for another hour, it's only seven fifteen."
"I kinda know that and after today I'm never waking up this early but today I have to get to the office and organize myself or something like that."
"Ah, the ugly fate of the newbie; I remember those days." Rei didn't have a chance to reminisce as Miyami ran along the uptown road. He pursued, catching up in no time. "It's rude to leave in the middle of a conversation, eh."
"Sorry, but I'd really like to make a good first impression this time." Miyami panted, pushing robustly off of the ground and increasing her speed.
"I don't know, you given me a pretty good first impression,"
Rei winked.
Miyami stared briefly and then turned her gaze in time to see a long rectangular prison-like building appear. It towered on the corner of a busy intersection and had an unwelcoming aura. A sign stood in the grass reading 'Westmoor High School'.
"Welcome to Hell," Rei introduced her to the school, hopping off of his board and stepping up the cement staircase.
Stuck in America
Stuck in America
Stuck in America
Stuck in America
The flight of steps led to a set of twin metal doors which opened and revealed a regular and expected high school interior. Lockers lined the main corridor, classroom doors set between them after long stretches. The main office was at the immediate right and a woman in her late-sixties sat behind the reception desk. Her glasses rested on the bridge of her nose and made her eyes seem bigger than they were. She looked up at the sound of the front doors closing and smiled towards the duo.
"She's not as nice as she wants you to think," Rei warned, leading Miyami into the spacious area. There was a long leather bench-sofa along the wall and fake tree in the corner. The window was covered by a thin white blind and the grey carpet looked new.
"You must be Miyami Kinomiya?" The woman spoke in shaky breaths.
"Um…yes,"
Rei patted her on the shoulder and motioned that he would see her later.
The receptionist skimmed through a stack of mustard coloured folders, stopping at one that read Miyami's name in bold print. Her new school record.
Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)
Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)
Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)
Get away! (All that shit that you put me through)
"Okay then," The woman pulled out a few forms, some of which had to be signed by a legal guardian. There was a class schedule in the thin pile and a few notices about early-year events. "This is your agenda," tittering hands offered Miyami a thick booklet filled with blank dated pages. "And this is your locker combination,"
"Thanks,"
"The vice-principal will speak to you when she arrives. Unfortunately she wasn't able to meet you now,"
"That's fine," Miyami began shifting her weight, eager to be rid of her bag and jacket. She played with the visor on her yellow and white VAN DUTCH baseball cap until the old woman allowed her to leave. As she made her way into the hall Rei jumped out from an obvious hiding place, scaring Miyami and making her let out a choked yelp.
She sent him an unimpressed glare laced with humor. It's not so hard to make friends in America, I guess.
Today I changed
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End Chapter One
Author's Notes: There you have it! The beginning of the end! Please tell me what you think, I don't even mind if it's completely insulting (though I sincerely hope it isn't).
©: The featured song is Stuck in America by Sugarcult from their 2001 album Start Static.