Ink. Amanda Sun

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СКАЧАТЬ Jun said. “Maybe koibito?”

      I choked. “What? No! We are not friends. Not even close.”

      Jun smiled. “You just looked flustered, that’s all.” He tucked a blond highlight behind his ear, rubbing his earring between his fingers.

      “Because I’m tired,” I said a little too sharply. “It’s nothing.”

      “Ah,” he said, giving the earring a tug. “The rough day you mentioned.”

      “Right.”

      “Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand into his blazer pocket. In the corner of the train car, the group of girls was still whispering about us. Jun stood beside me, silent as he stared out the window. I felt a little guilty shutting down the conversation, but I couldn’t help it. My thoughts were a tangled mess.

      I watched the buildings blur outside the window as the train sped past.

      What was I thinking, climbing a tree and yelling at Yuu like that? So much for a fancy exit—I’d just dug a deeper social hole to curl up and die in. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the smile on his face, as if we were in on the same joke. He’d looked harmless enough helping that woman onto the bus.

      But that’s not how he’d looked staring at me from the gate.

      2

      “Okaeri,” Diane said in a singsong voice when I opened the door.

      “I’m not saying it,” I said, kicking the toes of my shoes against the raised floor until they slipped off my feet.

      “Oh, come on,” Diane whined, appearing around the corner. She’d draped her navy and pink flowered apron over her teaching clothes, and the smell of curry rice wafted from the kitchen. “If you want to learn Japanese, you have to use it all the time.”

      “Not interested,” I said. “I’ve been speaking it all day. I need some English right now.” I strode past her and collapsed onto the tiny purple couch in the living room. It was ugly, but definitely comfortable.

      “So how was school?”

      “Fine.” Other than the part where half the school looked up my skirt.

      I picked up the remote and started flipping through variety shows. Bright kanji sprawled across the screen in neon pinks and greens, quoting outrageous things guests said. Not like I could get the joke, of course.

      “It’s curry rice again. I got held up with the Drama Club meeting.” Diane stepped into the kitchen and lifted the lid of the pot, the spicy fragrance wafting around the room as she stirred. I flipped the channel, looking for something English to watch, some reminder of the fact that I was still on the same planet.

      “And how was cram school?” The rice cooker beeped and Diane shuffled over to turn it off. I leaned back so my head faced the kitchen upside down.

      “It was crammy,” I said.

      “Could you at least set the table?” She sighed, and then I felt guilty.

      “Sorry,” I mumbled. I flipped the TV off and tossed the remote onto the couch, setting plates on either side of the flimsy table.

      I hadn’t known Diane much before Mom’s funeral, but she’d never struck me as the motherly type. She’d spent most of the service shoving hors d’oeuvres at everybody with a fake smile, like she was a balloon ready to pop. She’d insisted on my calling her just Diane. I think “Aunt” emphasized the fact that her sister was gone, and made her feel like we were some sort of dysfunctional family, trying to keep going after the fact. Which, of course, we were.

      She’d picked me up at the airport with the same over-excitement, waving wildly at me to make us even more of a spectacle. “Katie!” she’d screeched, like this was some kind of fun vacation, like we weren’t terrified of each other.

      The bullet-train ride made my ears pop and sting, and once we got to Shizuoka, I stood out even more. There were a lot of gaijin in Tokyo, but in Shizuoka I rarely saw anyone foreign.

      Diane lifted the lid of the rice cooker, and steam swirled out, fogging up her glasses. She reached for my plate and paddled the rice on, and then dumped a ladle of curry on the side.

      “Great,” I said.

      “You mean ‘itadakimasu.’”

      “Whatever.”

      “So any new friends yet, or are they still being shy?” Diane sat down and mixed the curry and rice together with her chopsticks. I pushed my rice into a sticky mound and dug my fork into a carrot.

      Well, let’s see. Cute guy on the train from another school, and annoying senior who has it out for me at my school. But friends? “Tanaka, I guess. He’s Yuki’s friend.” Big mistake. Diane clasped her hands together and her eyes shone.

      “That’s great!” she said.

      “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I figure it won’t take too long to settle the whole will dispute. I’ll be in Deep River before we know it.” Diane frowned, which looked almost clownish in her thick plum lipstick.

      “Come on, it’s not that bad here with me, is it?”

      “Why 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 СКАЧАТЬ