Despite fearing I'd spend the whole night in wakeful anxiety, I rise feeling rested from the extra couple of hours of sleep. Takasagi-sensei said I could skip my morning classes until...I remember the award ceremony is today. Anxiety returns at the thought of standing on the stage in front of my peers.

Forcing myself to eat something for breakfast, I manage to keep it down as I prepare for school. I wait until the last minute to leave, then hurry for fear that I might be late. The walk to school is strangely pleasant. The sun is out, the sky is clear, birds chirp happily and the traffic is light...and yet an ominous cloud seems to hover over me.

I enter the school, feeling like I'm sneaking in. The muffled voices of lecturing teachers mumble through the empty halls. I peer into each passing classroom window at a mix of students taking notes, staring into space or blatantly sleeping on their desks. I feel like an outsider, like I don't belong, a feeling that only grows worse as I slide the door open to the teachers' staffroom.

I've never been in the inner-sanctum of the staffroom. Only the classroom officers, who often run errands for the teachers, and those in big trouble come here. Looking out across the room, so many desks are jammed up against each other that I see little more than random stacks of papers, binders and piled notebooks from wall to wall.

A big guy in a tight t-shirt and gym shorts sits on the corner of a desk flirting with a young teaching assistant. He hears the door and turns, frowning. "Why aren't you in class?"

"Takasagi-sensei told me to wait here."

In a voice that barely reaches me, the assistant tells him, "He's the one who was assaulted."

"Is he? Ah. You should learn to fight." He turns back to his flirting.

A copy machine buzzes and whines steadily nearby, and yet the room feels strangely quiet. After a while, the school bell rings. The halls rattle with the rustle and chatter of students leaving their classes. Teachers hurry in to drop off things or snatch up cigarettes for a quick smoke before the assembly.

As the noise dies down in the halls, Takasagi-sensei comes in. "Good. You're here. Come with me."

He leaves without waiting for a response. I follow him down the hall and through a door I've never noticed before into a backstage area where a woman with a clipboard waits. Two or three students from the theater club lurk nearby, presumably helping to run things behind the curtains.

"Is this him?" she asks.

Takasagi-sensei nods and turns to me. "Ametsuchi-kun, this is Amaya-sensei. Listen to her. She will tell you what to do and when."

"Hai."

He leaves and she directs me to a spot behind the curtain where I can see principal Wakahisa speaking. "Stay here until he calls your name.

I wait and stare nervously out at my classmates sitting in nice even rows like a crop of dark heads waiting to be harvested. I wonder if Kyoko is out there and look in the general direction of our class. I just find the light-haired head of the ex-student council vice-president's foreign boyfriend—or was he her husband now? I've heard rumors—when the principal announces my name.

Amaya-sensei hisses at me from off-stage. "Ametsuchi! He called your name. Go!"

I stagger out onto the stage, blinded by the spotlights. Wakahisa-sensei reads the words on the certificate—something about my brave concern for my fellow students—then hands it to me with a slight bow. I receive it in both hands and bow deeply. The students applaud politely and I look around, wondering what to do next, my eyes lingering on the audience in search of Kyoko.

"This way!" Amaya-sensei waves from off-stage, cupping her hand downwards, calling me to her. "Come here!"

I follow. I'm whisked away and told to return to the teacher's staffroom. As I leave the backstage door, I hear the rising chatter of students hitting the halls and hurry to the staffroom before I am seen. Waiting impatiently, I don't want to stay, but I also don't want to leave.

Takasagi-sensei returns and rummages through his desk collecting notebooks. He almost seems surprised to see me there. "You can return to homeroom. Everyone's having lunch at the moment."

Crap. I forgot my lunch. At least one embarrassing thing is over. Now only the awkward return remains...

The door slides open and I step into homeroom.

"There he is!" someone calls out good-naturedly.

Shimura looks up at me. "Welcome back, Michi-kun."

"Yatta!" Himura cheers a little too enthusiastically as if trying to drum up support for me.

Watanabe me a satisfied nod with a small smile.

I guess he was right after all.

Kyoko sits at her desk, her eyes hidden behind her hair. Her eyes glance up at me and shift away uncertainly. I want to rush over and try to makeup, but I'm a little afraid her opinion of me hasn't changed.

"I knew you were telling the truth," Shimura says.

"How?" Himura sounds genuinely surprised.

"It's just as Shizuku-san said. He's not the type of person to do those things."

I glance at Shizuku's desk but it is empty. "Where is she?"

"She's not here today," Shimura says. "After how she's been treated, I'm not surprised."

"Sensei really gave us an earful," Himura says. "He told everyone to stop disrupting the class with their pranks. He seemed quite irritated."

I start toward my desk, hoping to hear Kyoko call my name but it is Shimura instead. "Michi-kun, come eat with us."

"Ah, I forgot it."

"Don't worry. We have plenty. Bring your desk over."

Feeling awkward, I drag my desk toward them. My classmates are all buzzing about a new band called Gaijin Aijin. At least I'm not the subject of conversation.

Shimura sets the lid of her bento before me. She and Himura pile food on it while chatting. "So, A-chan, are you and Tachibana-san going to the fireworks Saturday?"

"Eh, I guess not. He says he's got basketball practice. The club has been doing well in the finals." Himura sounds both disappointed and irritated.

"At night?"

"Un."

"He's been kind of busy lately."

I remember Watanabe's surprise that the two were still dating and the rumors he mentioned.

"It's really irritating. I wish he'd spend more time with me."

Kyoko stares down at her unopened bento, her face hidden beneath her fringe of hair. I sense her growing tension. The others must feel it too, but they don't say anything. I'm guessing they don't want to embarrass her by drawing attention to it.

My mind wanders as I eat lunch with a pair of disposable chopsticks Himura found buried among the detritus that has collected in her desk over the year. I wonder where Shizuku is and why she's not at school...

Kyoko shoves her bento in front of me, nearly knocking my borrowed lunch off my desk.

She leaps to her feet, her chair grunting as it is shoved backward. "Michi-kun" she steps into the aisle between the desks. She still doesn't look up at me.

Here it comes.

Kyoko bows at almost 90 degrees. For a moment I fear she's going to do a full dogeza, kneeling to touch her forehead to the floor. I move toward her to prevent it, but then she says, "I'm sorry," and my heart stops.

I'm sorry, is one of two common responses to a kokuhaku and it's not the good one. I'm sorry I can't return your feelings... I'm sorry we can't go out... It's what you say before you really disappoint someone.