Chapter Nine

I crept to the bedroom after breakfast and watched the rain. Then I opened a book and flipped through the pages. I could hear everyone talking in pleasant voices down in the living room; light laughter that sounded like Mike's, a discordant honk as Donatello sneezed, a roar of laughter. The house settled into a peaceful reverie, but it was a peace that was outside of me. There were oceans of history swirling around me and all I could do was see the surface.

I slipped into Shadow's room. She was lying on her bed, grinning into her phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said without looking up.

I looked up at the TV. Stardust was on, right at the moment where the witch's head gets blasted off. I'd watched it about ten times, and I'd thought for sure I could watch it another twenty, but suddenly I was sick of movies and shows. Even the sound of the rain on the roof was starting to grate on my nerves.

"Do you want to do something?" I asked.

"Hmm? Like what?" She was texting, and still hadn't looked at me.

"Anything. I don't know."

"You can get on my computer if you want," she said. "It should be on. Just don't close any of my windows, and no downloads, okay?"

I was in her chair before she could say another word, legs folded up beneath me. I minimized her browser, which had about three hundred tabs open, and then opened a fresh window for myself. Google flashed up, cursor winking at me.

Biting my tongue, I tapped out my search terms: Karai. Foot Clan.

Hundreds of articles popped up. Miwa "Karai" Watanabe, CEO of Watanabe Shipping Co and about a dozen other companies—places as varied as textile factories and restaurant chains. There were dozens of trials to her name—racketeering, embezzlement, drug running, kidnapping, murder—but they'd mostly centered around the people in her employ, and hadn't managed to implicate her. She'd had a short stint in jail for cooking the books, but she had managed to shorten it with legal wizardry. Every picture of her seemed to sport the same two expressions. The first was a fierce flat face with flashing eyes, as though she were seconds from socking someone in the jaw; the second was a kind of bored, haughty look, like she had better things to do with her time than engage with plebes.

Swallowing, I went back in time, ten years ago, to when she had known Dad.

I sat up straight. The first pictures I found from that era were pictures where she was smiling. Well, more or less. It was the same weird smile as I'd seen on the candid photo, just colder. Her lips were twisted as though she were thinking of a mean joke.

Then I started digging into her past in Japan. That's when I found the first photos of her with her first daughter: Akemi Watanabe. My older sister, I realized with a start. A person who I would never know. Waves of loneliness rolled over me.

Stupid, I told myself, and pinched my arm. Stop it.

There was genuine warmth in Karai's face in every photo that included Akemi. She wasn't touching her daughter in the photos—but in each one, they stood side by side, just a hand's breadth away from each other. Here was a photo of Karai in a board room, sitting at the end of a table—her daughter standing obediently behind her with a stack of manila folders. Here was a grainy photo of a Foot training session, and off-center was Karai gently correcting Akemi's posture. Here was an accidental shot of a group of Elites, and in the corner of the photo, Akemi and Karai eye to eye, in the middle of a conversation. Somehow, the photographer had captured their self-contained world: there were unspoken volumes passing between them.

"What are you looking at?" Shadow asked in my ear.

I jumped and closed the browser. "Nothing."

Shadow patted me on the shoulder. "I'm going out tonight with some friends. We're gonna watch a movie. Do you want to come?"

The ennui lifted off of my shoulders. "Really? You'll take me?"

"It's some dumb action movie that's full of explosions. I think you might need it."

"But my face…"

Shadow lifted a package of dust masks off her bed and shook them. "Boom."

I laughed. "But who's gonna fall for that?"

"Just say you're from Japan. It's not completely a lie." Her eyes narrowed and she grinned. "Don't say anything to your dad. He'll say no."

I nodded.

That evening, around six, we crunched down the drive. I'd thrown on a pastel blue windbreaker from April's closet and was wearing the dust mask and a cap. Walking away from the house grew progressively more difficult; I looked back over my shoulder until it was lost in the trees, and then I felt nervous and flighty. I reached into my pocket to touch my phone, and pulled up short.

"I left my phone at the house," I said. "I'd better go back."

"You won't need it. I've got mine," she said, grabbing my arm. "Come on."

She practically dragged me to the end of the drive, then leaned back on the fencepost and started texting again.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

"Hunter. From school." She grinned and her screen lit up her face.

I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Dad at any moment, or to feel his hand on my shoulder. I saw nothing.

"Don't worry. Everyone's on the back porch," Shadow said. "They'll think we're in my room."

A few minutes passed. Every time I heard a car, I hunched my shoulders and dropped my head, stifling a feeling of panic. Every time I heard a branch crack, I looked for transients or cyclists. I groped in my pockets for my throwing knives—the ones I'd left back in the nightstand.

"Maybe I should go back and get my knives," I said.

Shadow looked horrified. "Weapons?" she said. "Why?"

"Well, uh, what if someone takes a picture of me…"

"You'd kill them?" Shadow asked. "For taking your picture?"

"No, I meant that if we needed to defend ourselves…"

She shook her head and put her phone down. "Hey, hey, it's okay." She put an arm around my shoulder. "You can't stay afraid forever. It's good to get out of the house. Don't worry. You'll like Hunter. His brother's coming, too. He's around your age." Her eyes sparkled.

"Wait. You're not trying to set me up!"

"No, no!" Shadow said, punching me in the shoulder. "I think you need more friends, that's all."

"But I'm… I don't want…"

Before I could say anything, a beat-up Corolla rattled around the curve, loud rap music pouring out of the windows. It swerved toward us, spitting gravel into the ditch. I jumped back, but Shadow stood with one hand on her hip as the car rattled to a stop beside her.

"Hey, Shadow!" yelled the driver. He was wearing ear plugs and a black shirt emblazoned with a skull and crossbones.

"Hunter!" Shadow jumped into the front seat, kicking past a pile of cans and crumpled paper piles, and swept Hunter up in a wild embrace. Her lips pressed against his and her fingers knotted in the fabric of his t-shirt. My mouth fell open.

Shadow broke away, laughing. Her whole face had lit up. She turned and waved at me. I don't think she actually saw me; she was riding a high I couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Introductions are in order!" she said. "Everyone, this is Saya, my cousin from Japan. She's gonna be staying with us for a while."

I froze.

"Sweet! I love Japan," Hunter said. He didn't seem to see me, either. "Come on, Saya, back seat is open for you. Don't be shy, don't be shy! Move over, Travis."

Heavy, black dread clenched up in my guts. Suddenly I couldn't stop thinking about slipping into the underbrush and never coming out again. But somehow, I lifted one foot, and then the other—and then I had opened the creaky back door and ducked in. Trash crinkled underfoot, and there was an overwhelming stale stink of body odor, cigarette smoke, and old food. There were two kids in the back seat already—a lanky red-haired guy with braces, and a chunky boy not much taller than I was. The chunky boy's bangs hung in his face and every time he spoke, he swept them back with the side of his hand.

"Konnichiwa!" said Bangs-Boy with a bright grin. He was missing one of his teeth. "Domo arigatou."

"Shut up. You just said 'thank you,'" said the red-haired guy. "Hey, Saya, how are you? Welcome to America!"

"Th-thanks," I said. I glanced up at the front seat. But suddenly Hunter smashed his foot down on the accelerator and the car pealed off down the road. I crushed myself against the back seat and fumbled for a seatbelt. My hands sifted uselessly through trash.

"Sorry, we don't have seatbelts back here," said the Bangs-Boy. "By the way, my name's Travis!" He held out a hand.

I shook it rapidly, but I couldn't force any words out.

"Mine's Robert, but you can call me Rob," said the red-haired guy. He thrust his hand out. His eyes lingered on my face in a way I didn't like. I took his hand quickly and only shook it once. It was sweaty and sticky.

"Can you speak English?" Travis asked.

"Y-yeah. My Dad's American," I said, and seized at the cushions as Hunter roared down a tight curve.

"Lucky!" said Rob, whistling. "It's hard to get an Asian girlfriend around here."

I crushed myself against the door. I tried to look out of the window at the trees, but suddenly I could feel car sickness creeping up on me. I closed my eyes again. I think I would have been better if I couldn't feel the bass line throbbing like an alien heartbeat through my entire torso.

"Hey, Hunter, you're scaring Saya," said Travis, leaning between the seats. But Hunter was chattering something at Shadow and the music was too loud. Hunter flew down another sharp curve with the finesse of a racecar driver, and I wrapped my arms around my belly.

A sticky hand settled on mine.

"You gonna be okay?" Rob said. "Can I help you?"

I shook my head no.

Rob's hand tightened on mine. "You wanna sit together up at the theater?" he asked.

I waited for Shadow to jump in—perhaps to say something about my age—but she didn't. She was shouting at Hunter over the music; how could I expect her to hear us in the back seat? I didn't dare move, I didn't dare speak. I was barely holding down the nausea.

"Why are you wearing that dust mask?" Travis asked.

"It's what they do over in Japan!" said Rob. "To keep germs out. But it doesn't really work. You know that, right, Saya? That it doesn't work? You don't have to wear that around here if you don't want to."

"I want to," I said. "Thanks."

"What's your favorite anime?" asked Travis.

"I… I don't know."

"But you gotta know!" Rob said. "Don't be shy. We're not gonna make fun of you. My favorite is Attack on Titan."

The title came to me suddenly. "Teen Titans," I blurted.

"Teen Titans isn't anime!" laughed Travis.

"Maybe it is to her!" said Rob indignantly.

"I haven't been in Japan for a long time!" I snapped. "Please, I'm… I'm really carsick."

"Are you gonna throw up?" Travis asked.

"Shut up, Travis," Rob snapped. "You don't talk to a lady like that."

Soon they were arguing with each other about what ladies did and did not like and there were several minutes of blissful loneliness. I couldn't think of anything but my stomach. But then Hunter punched the brake and soon we were creeping into the city limits at a bearable speed. It was the kind of picture you'd see in a movie set: freshly-painted clapboard houses from the 1800s, ruddy brick stores blazing in the sunset, church spires stabbing skyward.

But it seemed that just as quickly as we had passed between the old houses, we were sweeping through the city limits into more fields, scattered and battered farmhouses, rusty junk collections.

I pressed my face against the glass. "Are we leaving Northampton?" I asked. "Where's the theater?"

"Oh, Northampton doesn't have a theater!" Rob said. "We're going to the theater in Hadley. There's one at the mall."

Hadley? Where the hell was that? I shrank down against the cushions and squeezed my eyes shut. I had imagined the downtown Dad dreamed up: stolid old stores from the last century, fragrant flowerbeds, towering old trees, buskers.

"I don't want to go to Hadley," I said in a tiny voice.

"But they don't have a theater," Travis said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "What are you so upset about?"

"It's far away, that's all."

"No, it isn't," said Rob. "It's just ten minutes. Seriously, don't worry. I'll take care of you."

When I glanced up at him, I shuddered. He looked down on me with that expression particular to scientists and serial killers: a broad grin and light in his eyes, the thrill of observing an unknown species.

When we finally stopped at the theater, I stumbled out and leaned against the nearest lamppost, taking deep breaths.

"Are you okay?" Shadow asked.

"She's carsick!" Travis shouted gleefully.

Rob was suddenly beside me. I smelled him before I saw him—a combination of sour clothes and sweat—and then his hand settled on my shoulder. I jerked away, but not in time: his eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong with your back?" he said, and reached for my shoulder-blades.

I backed up, hugging my chest. "I've got some health problems," I said. "Please don't touch me there."

"Hey, calm down," he said. "Just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," I snapped, and rushed past him toward Shadow.

"Rude!" he said.

I bumped up against her side, mentally begging her to speak to me. But she had pushed her hand into Hunter's, and they were staring at each other like they had never seen another human being before. She looked down at me, but she didn't see me, and when she smiled, it was from a half-forgotten habit. I thought I would throw up.

I thrust my hands into my pockets and pattered just behind them. Travis and Rob flanked me, confusion on their faces.

"You're kinda rude, you know!" Rob said.

"I heard you the first time," I said.

"I thought Asian people were supposed to be polite," he said.

"She's only half-Asian," said Travis.

"True. Maybe she's been in America too long," Rob said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"American women are pushy and loud and they have zero manners," said Travis. "Maybe you should pay more attention to your mom and how polite she is. That's how real women act."

I started to laugh. I really couldn't help it. The fear lifted a little.

Rob's face reddened. "What are you laughing at?"

"You have no idea!" I said.

Thank god, soon we were at the box office, and Shadow pulled our prepaid tickets out of her pocket. We pushed through the doors and I stopped, stock still, eyes wide. The posters! They were larger than life, gloriously composed: gritty warriors hefting machine guns, soulful actresses staring out across vast distances toward a lost ideal, cartoon characters lunging through the air in vivid color. The lobby was dim, but the fluorescents were bright, illuminating ads for Coke and candy and heaps of steaming popcorn. Chattering families and friends passed on every side, their voices echoing on the tiles, and outside was the mall entrance, where golden store windows beckoned. For a moment it was all I could do to drink in all of the colors and sound.

"What's wrong with you now?" Rob asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"It's her first time to a movie theater!" Shadow crowed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "You want some popcorn, Saya?"

"But don't they have theaters in Japan?" asked Travis.

Before I could snap at him, Shadow pulled me in line and loaded me up with a large Coke and a huge tub of popcorn. I stared at her doubtfully. Her arm was over my shoulder, but hung loosely; Hunter was on the other side, leaning into her, his hand thrust into her back pocket. When she looked at me I felt like I had become something like a video game character, an inanimate thing with a bulleted list to be completed.

I followed Hunter and Shadow to the theater. Their heads were practically touching, and Shadow's hand lingered just above his ass, her fingertips pressed into the small of his back. I felt ill again.

When we slipped into the theater, the lights were just dimming. A few families sat together down in the middle of the room. Out of old habit, I went for the back wall—I didn't want anyone sitting behind me—and slipped into the middle seats. Rob and Travis didn't follow, instead angling for front seats, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The film was about giant robots fighting extradimensional aliens. Blossoming fireballs, cities crunched into dust beneath a behemoth's feet, a skyscraper-high monstrosity snapping its vast jaws on a robot's outflung arm, a multinational team of highly trained pilots who shared their brains, a robot bashing a monster in the face with a fishing boat. I immediately forgot about the creepy boys, Shadow, and everyone at the farmhouse. The music carried me like a bird on a breeze.

When the credits rolled, I remained in the darkness a while, holding the magic of the film inside of me. Then I looked down. I instantly regretted it. Shadow was practically sitting in Hunter's lap, laughing softly, pressing her lips against his ear, hands creeping down his sides.

The magic dissipated as if it had never been. I frantically pattered down the stairs and into the corridor, clutching at my half-eaten popcorn, feeling panicky and detached.

Why, I asked myself, do I always feel like I'm looking in?

Not knowing what to do, I lingered outside of the door, praying that Shadow would come out and that she would have eyes for me, if only for a little bit.

I smelled him at the last second.

Rob's hand fell on my arm. "Hey, are you feeling better?"

"Leave me alone," I said, jerking away. That was when I realized he was looking at my face, and his mouth was hanging open. I had stuck my dust mask in my pocket to eat popcorn and I had forgotten to put it back on.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "What happened to your face?"

"None of your business," I snapped, jerking my mask out of my pocket.

"No, wait!" He grabbed my arm and twisted it back. "Travis! Come here! Look at this!"

A wave of heat roared up from the pit of my stomach. I whirled around, flung the popcorn down, and stamped on his toes as hard as I could. He squawked and bent over, but his grip only tightened, so I swung and cold-cocked him. His nose crunched under my knuckles and blood squirted all over my windbreaker. He crashed onto the carpet, blood bubbling out of his nostrils, and sprawled limply in a pile of my popcorn. I stared down, standing over him, fire racing through me. Then I thrust my toe underneath his ribcage and flipped him over onto his side.

"Oh my god!" Travis cried. "What are you doing?"

I glanced up, only to see that Travis and a small knot of people had gathered in the hallway, their mouths hanging open… some of them with their phones lifted up to eye level. Cold, empty horror froze me in place.

"Don't touch me," I said. My voice came out in a monotone. I didn't feel anything.

Suddenly, one of the theater employees peeked around the wall and pointed at me. A second, bulkier employee skidded around the corner and trotted toward me, followed by two nervous kids.

I sprang off down the corridor as fast as I could. There was a shout behind me, and I could hear the lumbering gait of the big guy, but there was no way they were going to catch me—I wouldn't let them. I punched through the "Exit" doors and into the chilly New England night.