Chapter 4

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On Wednesdays, practice started later, because the coach, which I later discovered was the man who was forcing me to sing, had to work his second job late. Unfortunately, Wednesday was also an extended practice, where we had two and a half hours of miserable training instead of the usual hour and forty five minutes. Practice started at 4 and ended at 6:30, so I hung out under a tree, reading a book for grammar class. I didn't hate track, but it was hard to compare anything to tennis.

At 3:45, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Tezuka. He called every now and then, and we just talked, like normal friends do.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi," he said, and cleared his throat. "I'm coming home."

I sat up, excited. "Really?"

"Yeah, and I'm going to your school, too." I could almost sense happiness in his voice.

"What about tennis?"

"I'm going to try out for our travelling team," he said. That's what I was on! I Smiled.

We talked for a few minutes, but 4 o clock was coming fast, and I didn't dare want to be late again. Who knew what they would make me do.

"Hey, I gotta go to practice," I said, grabbing my bag.

"Oh yeah, isn't tennis already started?"

"Actually, I'm heading to track practice," I sighed.

There was a few seconds of silence. "You quit?"

"No," I said, heading to the field. "When do you come back?"

"Sunday," he said, "Why are you going to track?" he persisted, his voice the usual stone cold, but I detected a hint of curiosity.

"I'll talk to you Sunday!" I said, and hung up. I flung myself out of my jacket and jogged over to the coach. We did the normal workout, then finally, it ended. I dropped my self onto the cool grass, sweating and aching. I didn't know if today was a distance practice, but it surely felt like it. Even Emma, who always seemed like she had a ball of energy, was sitting on the bench, wiping her red face with a towel. She didn't look like herself; her normal energetic attitude was gone. Maybe she was tired, but something told me otherwise. I sat up, but the minute I moved, she hopped up from the bench and greeted a woman in a pantsuit carrying a clipboard and sporting the shiniest blonde hair.

Emma offered her hand to shake, and the woman accepted. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the coach was setting up the hurdles. They were on the middle notch, which I had no doubt she could ace. The woman sat on the bench Emma had previously occupied, which happened to be centered of Emma's run. She wiped her face one last time and jogged to the starting line. She ran it perfectly, her figure a blur in the setting sun. The woman stood and smiled and shook Emma's hand one last time after she spoke enthusiastically for a few minutes.

I stood up to grab my things and walk home, remembering the bus that took me home only ran until 5 because it was a less populated one, and more of a school bus than anything else. My legs hurt, but it was a long walk home.

"Hey, Fuji!" someone called from a distance. I turned around to see Emma walking toward me. It was the first time she had ever used my real name.

"Hello," I said, and we walked in silence for a few seconds.

"Have you figured what you're going to sing yet?" she asked, a smile hinting on her lips.

"Well, that's a secret," I grinned. Oh, who was I kidding? I had 5 days to figure out something, and I hadn't even listened to the whole CD. "Who was that woman?" I asked curiously.

"A college scout from America!" she exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the path.

I tried to be excited, but I couldn't get into it. I didn't want her leaving me alone with that dreaded sport, as selfish as that sounded. She was the only reason it was bearable. "That's great." I said, but it came out rather unenthusiastically.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, studying my face.

"Nothing, really. That's great." I liked talking to her, a lot, even if we didn't do it often. We had developed sort of a friendship, and I liked it.

"Okay…"she said, giving me the "I know you're lying to me" look.

"I thought you wanted to travel?" I asked, as we walked together down the long path to the parking lot.

"Well I do," she mumbled. "But if a college across the world wants to offer me a big scholarship, then that's okay too." She was smiling, something she did often. "Do you want a ride home?"

"Sure, thanks," I said, and we hopped on her red bike, the cool wind whipping her soft hair into my face. She dropped me off at my house, and then took off a few seconds after I walked into the door. I skipped dinner and went straight to my room, popping in the CD. I just sat on the floor, leaning against the bare wall, listening to the music. The entire CD ran through had repeated to the beginning when I shut it off and checked Facebook one last time before I crawled into bed. I didn't get on much, and I had a million notifications from some status I liked a year ago. I accepted a few friend requests from people I knew from track, and the kid who took my spot on the tennis team (begrudgingly, that is).

I flopped into bed, dark rain clouds rolling over the bright moon. I fell asleep eventually, and was woken much too soon by my alarm clock. It was pouring rain, and I can't say I was too particularly thrilled to walk to school. I was eating breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be?" my mother questioned as I stood up to go get the door. Emma was standing in the rain, her hands in her pockets, and a smile on her face.

"Hey buddy," she said casually, slicking back her wet hair from her face. "I see you walking to school every morning, and I thought 'well, It would be awfully rude to make you walk that couple of miles in the rain', so I decided to drop by and offer you a ride to school."

I grinned and shook my head, offering her to step in. I quickly put my shoes on and headed to my room to get my school stuff, but when I got back my older sister and mother were standing by Emma, talking.

"This might be a little rude…" my sister asked, "but can I please touch your hair?"

Emma smiled brilliantly, reaching back and untying the mass of twisted curls that was normally tamed into waves. She had very light brown hair, a lot like mine, but it was jacked up into bouncy curls. My sister ran her fingers along a strand, and my mother reached out a hand to do the same. They were fascinated, and Emma just smiled warmly.

"Where are you from?" My mother asked.

"America," Emma responded.

"Oh, Emma Spencer?" My sister said quickly. "Do you have a brother?"

"Yeah, I have two. Dillon is the older and Kyle is the younger."

"I know Dillon!" she exclaimed, and then went on a story about how cool he was. When the chatter finally stopped, she gestured for me to leave.

"Where's your bike?" I asked stupidly.

She gave me an "are you crazy?" look. "I don't want to get completely soaked before we get to school. I drove the car." And of course, on the curb, there was a beautiful Camaro that kids at our school only dreamed about. It was a fiery red that just screamed "ARREST ME!"

"Wow."

She just smiled, and slid in on the black leather seats. It was a stick shift, and there was so much power behind the V8 engine. We listened to some music, and of course it was in English. That's why I was having such a hard time with Lady GaGa. I took an English 1 class, but I couldn't remember a darn thing from it besides "Hello"."

"How do you understand this?"

"I grew up in America, silly."

"You're Japanese is very good," I commented, and then quickly asked, "Will you help me with my song?"

"Sure bro," she said, turning into the parking lot. Even with the distraction, we were there early, so we just sat in her car, listening to some music from her iPod. "What are you singing?"

"I don't know. I want to do a piano cover of something."

"You play?" she asked excitedly, turning to face me.

"A little," I murmured, getting the feeling that she was a hardcore, Beethoven piano zombie.

"Sweet," she said, nodding. "We could work after track if you wanted. I have a piano at my house."

I gulped. That gave me less than 10 hours to memorize (and damn, pick) a song. But I really had no choice. I was meeting Tezuka on Sunday, homework on Saturday.

"We could work on it during the weekend, if you're busy today," she suggested. "Saturday or something. We have the track meet on Sunday."

I felt my heart sink. "We have a meet Sunday?"

"Yeah, don't you ever listen to coach?" she laughed and punched me lightly in the arm. Any happiness that I bore before this morning vanished. It sucked that I couldn't be on the tennis team with my friends. It sucked even more that I couldn't see my best friend forever the day he came back from being gone forever. What sucked the most is that everyone besides me was going to see him, and I was going to be stuck running in a circle and some event that I didn't even like.

She saw my changed facial expression and immediately softened her joking manner. "Hey, bro, what's the matter?"

"It's nothing," I said, but it still hurt. I was being a baby. He was here for good, but I was really excited to see him the first day he got back. I missed him as much as was humanly possible without being gay. I'm not even going to lie; I was borderline homosexual with that boy. "Today is fine," I said.

"Cool," she said, but didn't smile. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I managed a half hearted smile. I got out of the car, slinging my bag over my shoulder. It was still raining lightly, and Emma met me in the front of her car. We stopped, facing each other. I was only an inch or two, maybe, taller than her.

"Can I borrow your iPod for the day?" I asked, and she fished it out of her pocket.

"I value this thing more than I will probably value my first child. So if you break it, I will have to break your face," she warned, completely serious. And with that, she wrapped her arms around me, her hair in my face. She had my arms pinned to my side. It was just a quick embrace, but it was enough to rekindle the happiness in my heart for a moment. I smiled as she walked away from me, the rain dripping down my face.

I guess track wasn't such a bad idea after all.