Ink. Amanda Sun
would it be bad in a country where I can’t even read where the bathroom is?” Speaking was one thing; even writing phonetic hiragana and katakana had come without too much study. But learning two thousand kanji to read signs and newspapers was a slow, grueling process.
“I told you, it’ll take time. But you’re doing great. And you know Gramps still isn’t in the best of health. It’s too much of a strain on them right now, at least until we know the cancer is in remission for sure.”
“I know,” I sighed, pushing my potatoes around in the thick curry.
“So tell me about Tanaka.”
I shrugged. “He’s into calligraphy painting. Tall, skinny, pretty loud when he comes into a room.”
“Is he cute?”
“Gross, Diane.” I slammed my fork down in disgust.
“Okay, okay,” she conceded. “I just wanted you to know that we can talk boys, if you need to.”
“Noted.”
“Do you want some tea?”
I shook my head. “I’ve just got some kanji sheets to write out and some math homework. Then I’m going to bed.”
“No problem. Do your best. Ganbare, as they say.” Diane’s cheerful tone had returned. I rose to take my plate to the sink.
“Like I give a shit what they say.”
“Hey, watch it. You know your mom wouldn’t be impressed with that kind of talk.”
I paused, thinking of Mom. She was always a prude, which is why I was stunned to find out she’d dated someone unpredictable like Dad. Maybe he’d set her on the straight and narrow after he ran out on her. Kind of like Yuu Tomohiro was doing to Myu now.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just had a crazy day.”
“I just…I hope you’ll be a little happier here with me,” Diane said gently. It was about the most serious voice I’d ever heard from her, and I suddenly felt like a jerk. She’d always been the piece that didn’t fit, Mom said, the one searching for herself on the other side of the world. Kind of the way I felt now. And even then she’d opened up her tiny world here for me when I’d needed her the most.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll try.” Diane smiled, and I wondered if she realized we were both lost now, adrift together but somehow alone.
The moment over, I headed to my room to suffer writer’s cramp copying pages and pages of kanji.
I was sure Yuu Tomohiro would be waiting the next morning, leaning against the Suntaba plaque on the gate. I’d flipped through my dictionary after cram school, perfecting what I was going to say to him. When he wasn’t there, I wondered whether I felt more relieved or disappointed.
I slid into my seat behind Yuki, putting my book bag on the ground and reaching in for my textbooks.
“Ohayo,” Yuki said, twisting in her chair.
“Morning,” I said. “You didn’t see Yuu come in, did you?” Okay, so I was just a little anxious to know. I was ready to take him on and get some answers.
Yuki shrugged. “Probably early morning kiri-kaeshi,” she said.
“Early morning what?”
“You know, for Kendo Club.”
“Morning!” Tanaka sang as he burst into the class, striding toward his seat.
“Okay,” I said, “he’s got way too much energy for the morning.” I lifted my hand in a feeble wave. Tanaka nodded at us and broke into a huge grin. The conversation with Diane surfaced like bad heartburn, and I turned to look at my desk, desperately ignoring the fact that Tanaka was a little cute. Jeez, thanks, Diane. I did not need to be looking at one of my only friends like that. What if I lost both friends over a dumb crush? Life was complicated enough right now. I shoved the feeling down and concentrated on the cover of my textbook.
Advanced Mathematics. Fascinating.
“Did you decide which clubs to join?” Yuki said.
“You should at least join English Club,” said Tanaka, inviting himself into the conversation. Yeah, English Club wouldn’t make me stick out. But Tanaka looked so sincere and I really only had the two friends….
“Okay, okay.”
“Yatta!” Tanaka said, throwing his fist high in the air.
“No fair!” whined Yuki. “You have to join at least one club with me. Sado? Kado?”
“Kado?”
“Flowers.”
“I have allergies.”
“Then Tea Ceremony. You get to have cakes and learn the roots of Japanese culture…?” Yuki sounded like a brochure, but I was starting to crack under the pressure. Anyway, it wasn’t like I wasn’t interested in Japanese culture—just homesick, disoriented. Orphaned.
“Okay,” I relented. “Sado it is.”
Suzuki-sensei stepped into the room. We stood, bowed our good-mornings and opened our books.
I scribbled notes from the board but pretty soon got bored and started doodling. And as I sketched flowers and snails down the margins, the eyes of the inky girl from Tomohiro’s drawing flooded my thoughts. I didn’t think I was coming apart at the seams—why would I be seeing things?
The look on Tomohiro’s face when he’d grabbed the drawing out of my hands still bothered me. Half anger, half worry. What was he trying to hide? He’d got some girl pregnant and humiliated me in front of the school. But I was pretty sure he’d also lied to Myu about how he really felt. And the smile he’d given me when I was up in the tree—like we were on the same team, like we were friends…
I felt itchy suddenly, my head throbbing the way it had when I’d stared at his sketch. I kept picturing the inky girl looking at me, the way her hair curled around her shoulders. I could hear the birds singing in the park, the water in the moat sloshing along. I could feel the breeze on my skin.
The corner of my notebook flipped up, lifted by a cool spring wind. Wait, that couldn’t be—we were indoors, and the windows were shut. Then the whole side of the book started to ripple.
The flowers I’d doodled started to bend in the breeze. One of the petals fell to the little bit of ground I’d sketched. A snail tucked himself into his shell.
Is this happening? Is this real?
The pen was hot in my hand and I gripped it tighter, watching the pages of my notebook flutter in the wind, watching the snails leave glittering trails across the page…
Watching as they turned and came toward me, mouths full of sharp, jagged teeth I didn’t know snails had, teeth that I hadn’t drawn….
The pen shattered beneath my fingers, drowning the doodles in ink. Shards of plastic flew across the room and scattered on desks and floors. Students shouted in surprise, jumping back from their desks to their feet. Suzuki-sensei whirled around from the board.
“What happened?” he snapped.
Tanaka and Yuki stared at my hand, covered in ink.
“Katie?” Yuki whispered.
“I—I’m sorry,” I said, my throat dry.
And then I saw Yuu Tomohiro standing in the hallway, his startled eyes watching me, his fingers wrapped around the door frame. He looked almost afraid. Had he seen it, too? Or maybe—maybe he’d caused it.
“Go clean up,” Suzuki-sensei said, and I forced my head to nod. My chair squeaked as I pushed it back to stand up, the whole class staring at me. Ink