02 | NOT Alone

"Mari, I thought you were better than this! How could you destroy public property on your first day of school? This harms not only your reputation, but the family's reputation as well! What were you thinking?"

I flinch and duck my head away as Mom continues to rant. The tiny, middle-aged woman paces back and forth in the living room, her face slowly but surely turning red. Even the flowers in the vases seem to shudder in her presence. I don't think a 4'10 Asian housewife should be this intimidating.

"I was trying to get a drink out of the vending machine," I try explaining for the upteenth time in a row.

"Why didn't you go to a different machine?" Mom snaps, pausing her angry stomps to stand in front of me with her hands on her hips.

"The guy already put his money in it."

I realize my mistake too late. A record scratches and stops. Birds stop singing. The house's temperature drops below negative. Darkness creeps out from the depths of hell and enwraps Mom in its claws.

"A boy was involved?" she asks, her eyes forming slits.

"Yes, he was trying to buy me a drink."

"Why?"

I hesitate. "He..." I lower my voice. "...hit me..." Even quieter. "...in the face..." I whisper, "...with his elbow."

"He hit on you?!" I'd like to thank not only God, but Jesus, too; she heard me wrong. "I told you to stay away from boys until you've finished college! They're nothing but trouble!"

I sweatdrop. This talk again? I'm a high schooler, not a ten-year-old who just discovered that boys and girls have different anatomy for the first time. "I didn't do it on purpose."

The front door swings open before Mom can spout out any more nonsense. My fourteen-year-old sister, Hana, walks into the living room where the drama's taking place. She looks between me and Mom raises her eyebrows.

"What's going on?" she asks.

Mom ignores her question, prompting her, "Hana, did you speak to any boys today?"

"Nope," Hana replies.

"Good. You should tell your older sister to do the same." My jaw drops. I can't believe Mom just went there, telling a middle schooler to teach me how to act in public. "I'm going to start dinner. Be ready to eat in an hour."

I escape to my room in the nick of time and throw myself onto my bed. I roll from my stomach onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. It looks a lot like the rest of my room: naked. I haven't gotten around to unpacking all of my decorations yet.

I spot my yellow bunny plushie and it triggers the memories of earlier today. Kise. That's his name, right? More like Ki-sucks. I need time to think of better insults. It doesn't change the fact that what he did earlier is ruining my life.

I close my eyes and sigh. At least I'll be able to escape the madness of my house at school.

‒‒‒‒‒

"Watch out, that's Crazy American."

"Do you think she carries weapons on her?"

"Uwah, she's scary in person."

Five minutes. Not even five minutes into my second day of school do I want to turn around and walk straight back out. Students point at me and gawk like I'm a five-headed walrus shooting laser beams out of my eyes. It's both humiliating and aggravating.

I speed walk to Kobori Sensei's room to get away from their comments. The classroom's void of any life-forms other than myself, graciously allowing me the time to put my backpack down and let out a long, ugly wail of misery.

Why me? Why out of all the people in the world did the gods of fate choose me to curse?

The door slides open, and I cut off my wail. Obara stands in the threshold with a confused face, her thin eyebrows climbing up her forehead and lips parted. Heat rushes to my face. Did she hear me?

"Good morning, Suzuki-san," she greets. Her awkward face says it all: she heard me.

I try to smile back, but it comes off more like a grimace. "Hi, Obara-chan."

She pauses at her desk that's placed a few away from mine with her back to me. After thinking for a second, she turns heel to look at me again. The frown on her lips tells me that this conversation won't be a pleasant one.

"The upperclassmen came to me yesterday because of what happened with the vending machine. Since I'm the class representative of our class, I got in trouble," she says.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

"They told me to make sure you don't get into any more trouble. I consulted lots of adults and websites, and they all said that people with too much energy cause trouble to cool off."

It's my turn to frown. "Hey, I'm not hyperactive. All I was trying to do was get a drink out of the vending machine."

"The reason doesn't matter. You destroyed school property." Obara lifts her chin and narrows her eyes at me. "You need to start exercising."

Wait, wait, wait, hold up.

"I need to what?" I gasp.

"You should start running or take up a sport. Exercising will make your body and your mind healthier. I know you probably never tried a healthy lifestyle before because you lived in America, but now you're in Japan so you need to behave and act like a good Japanese student."

My jaw hits the floor, and my eyes grow as large as the moon. She can't be serious! No way! I search her face for any signs of amusement hinting at a joke, but there's none.

Then it hits me. Oh my God. Obara actually thinks I'm an unhealthy, violent person because I'm American. Should I laugh or should I cry? What has my life come to?

Then I hear the voices of my classmates approaching the room.

"Do you think Kobori Sensei will kick Crazy American out of her class? She'll be a bad influence."

"As long as we don't look at her or talk to her, we should be fine."

"What if she approaches us?"

"Run away!"

The group of boys fall silent when they see me. I glare at them, and they turn ashen pale. They freaking sprint to their seats. I sit back down with my head in my hands.

Crazy American? Seriously?

This whole 'talk crap about Crazy American until we make eye contact with her' thing goes on for the rest of class. Kobori Sensei doesn't smile at me like how he did yesterday. The minutes feel like hours and when it's time to go to lunch, Kura leaves me in the dust. I avoid eye contact with people on my way to the lunchroom and hesitate at the side of the cafeteria.

It's not like I can sit with Kura. Everyone I talked to yesterday are shunning me. I guess I can't blame them, because I wouldn't want to hang around someone who got in trouble with the principal, either. It's a good thing the principal is a nice person; he let me off with a warning since it was my first day.

"Excuse me!"

I turn around to see a pile of boxes stacked upon one another in someone's arms, blocking his face. I ask him, "Do you need help?"

"If you could grab the top container, that'd be great," he replies.

I do as I'm told, glad that the box isn't heavy. This reveals the carrier: a guy with piercing blue eyes and bright red cheeks. He stumbles away from me and drops his gaze.

"Th-thank you! Follow me to the, uh, the room with the things," he stammers.

I follow him and sigh. Am I really that intimidating?

We go to this small office in front of the lunchroom and drop everything off. The guy has his back to me most of the time and doesn't talk much. It's not until I'm ready to leave does he say something.

"You're the girl Kise was talking about, right?" he asks.

I frown at the thought of the blond. "Yeah. He's the guy who hit me when I was walking past him." He scowls and he grumbles something under his breath. "What'd you say?"

"I'm sorry that Kise got you in trouble. That idiot's been causing problems since he came here," he says, raising his voice to a normal level and scratching the back of his head.

Warmth blossoms in my chest and I smile. A student in this school's finally on my side. "Thanks. I'm Suzuki Mari."

He nods. "My name is Kasamatsu Yukio." Kasamatsu pauses then adds, "If you have nowhere else to sit, my table has a free spot."

‒‒‒‒‒

Question of the Chapter

What member of the Generation of the Miracles (other than Kise) do you want to see make an appearance?