Thomas Randall - The Waking

“God,” she whispered, and swung her legs out of bed. “Not again.”

Three days since school began, and she’d had the same nightmare for three nights in a row, disturbing her sleep. She ought to have been glad it was morning, but she still felt so tired that it might be worth risking more bad dreams if she could sleep a little longer. Or maybe not. The nightmare was awful.

She ran her hands over her face and got up, sliding back the shutters to have a look outside. Despite the gloomy light, there were very few clouds in the sky. When the sun stopped peeking at morning and came fully over the horizon, it would be a crystal clear day, warm and blue.

Kara stayed by the window, waiting for dawn to break and for the cobwebs of her dream to burn away. Already, only fragments of it remained, but it left her with the sensation that she’d been lost in the dream all night. Details changed, but certain elements had been consistent all three nights-the blood and the candles and the cats. The presence of her parents’ bedroom and the feeling of expectation, like she might see her mother again, had been new this time, and it lingered with her. It felt like she’d lost something, though of course even if she had seen her mother, it would only have been a dream.

With a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around herself and watched the sun climb over the horizon. The morning light spread, and she began to feel better.

Then she remembered that it was Saturday, and a smile touched her lips, as though sunrise had spread within her. Yes, she had a few hours of school this morning, but the afternoon would be free. Miho and Sakura were taking her shopping in Miyazu City. After hearing about Akane’s murder and the creepy thing with the cat earlier in the week-added to the stress of trying to adjust to her new life-no wonder she’d been so troubled. The dream had been haunting her all week, but her friends from home were fond of saying there was nothing a little retail therapy couldn’t cure. Shopping was just what the doctor ordered. They’d walk all afternoon, get completely exhausted, and if she was lucky, there would be no dreams tonight.

No dreams tonight. She made it her mantra.

Or perhaps it was more like a prayer.

Pink lanterns were strung from the trees in Takinoue Park, where spring had just begun to blossom. Kara took a bunch of pictures, framing some of them diagonally because she liked her photos off-kilter. At home she would take pictures of her friends because they’d bug her until she relented, but Sakura and Miho seemed to understand that the camera meant something to her beyond just snapping tourist shots, and so they posed only when she asked them to get into the picture.

After school they’d taken the Tankai bus to Sanno-bashi, where only a few minutes’ walk brought them to the park. Kara loved the Turning Bridge and Ama-no-Hashidate and had already photographed them endlessly, not to mention beautiful shots across Miyazu Bay, framing some of the islands in her shots, especially the misty rise of Mount Oidake on Kami Island. One day, she hoped to explore those places with friends. But today wasn’t for sightseeing. It was a day just to be with the girls.

“Can I ask you something?” Miho said, adjusting her round glasses.

Kara lowered her camera. “Sure.”

“We always hear about how much more time we spend in school than American students. Is that really true?”

“Well,” Kara said, “back home, we don’t have school on Saturdays, that’s for sure. And the school days here are definitely longer. But in Japan, there are longer breaks between classes, and more art and physical education classes. We’re probably not actually in class with a teacher that much more than in America, if you add it all up.”

Miho nodded as though this satisfied some suspicion she’d already had. Kara had to know.

“Why do you ask?”

Sakura let out a derisive laugh. “I told her American boys are stupid. That they wouldn’t be intelligent enough to keep up with her, but would expect her to act like she is even dumber than they are.”

Miho glared at her.

Kara grinned. “You mean Japanese boys aren’t the same way?”

“Exactly the same,” Miho said.

“Not all of them,” Sakura added quietly.

“Oooh, Sakura likes a boy!” Kara said.

Whatever vulnerability Sakura had just revealed vanished in an instant. Her cynical, tough-girl mask reappeared, and she winked at Kara.

“I like them all. Except American boys.”

Miho glared at her. “You’re evil.”

But she couldn’t keep the angry face in place for more than a few seconds, and then they were laughing. Kara’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. She had never acquired a huge number of friends at home; she just didn’t have that kind of personality. But she missed Dawn and Toni and Aaron, the kids she’d hung out with in her high school in Massachusetts. She’d kept in touch by e-mail, but she’d been gone three months and already it felt like they’d forgotten about her. Out of sight, out of mind.

Which meant she had to live in the now, with the people around her.

“Say ‘cheese,’ ” she said, raising the camera.

Sakura and Miho grinned. “Chee-zu!” they both said.

Kara laughed. “It’s ‘cheese!’ I’m not the one pronouncing it wrong.”

“You’re in Japan,” Sakura told her. “We say ‘chee-zu.’ ”

“Because we say ‘cheese,’ ” Kara replied.

“Which is silly, anyway,” Miho put in. “Why cheese?”

Kara laughed. “Fine. Explain ‘chee-zu,’ then.”

Miho and Sakura glanced at each other, genuinely baffled, and Kara snapped their picture like that. She viewed the shot on the little screen on the camera and giggled, showing it to the girls.

“Who’s evil?” Sakura said.

Miho crossed her arms. “Kara is evil,” she said in English.

Kara nodded in appreciation. “Hey, that was pretty good.”

“We need practice,” Sakura said, also in English. “You should speak English with us.”

“I need practice, too,” Kara replied.

“We…,” Miho began, but switched to Japanese. “We should take turns.”

Which sounded more than fair. For the rest of the afternoon, they moved back and forth between English and Japanese, correcting one another as politely as possible. They were hungry and ate lunch in a small restaurant near the park. The girls were much more comfortable with gossip outside of school, and Kara learned the secrets-real or imagined-of some of the most popular students, not to mention some teachers. Some of the teachers she’d barely met, and some of the other students she’d never heard of, but Kara listened intently and laughed in all the right places.

Miho and Sakura weren’t content to talk just about their own world, though. They wanted to know about her life in America, and Miho, of course, about every boy she’d ever kissed, or wanted to kiss. They had questions about fashion, shopping, and the house she’d lived in, and Kara happily filled them in. An older woman who worked in the restaurant joined in on the conversation at one point, wanting to hear Kara speak English.

“You should learn to speak Japanese-English,” the woman said, “if you want us to understand when you speak your own language.” When she saw the confusion on Kara’s face, she went on. “The accent. If you speak English with a Japanese accent, it will be easier to understand you.”

Kara bowed her head in gratitude for the advice. As the woman walked away, Sakura rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to her,” Miho said. “You need to speak

American-English if we’re going to learn correctly.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Kara replied. “It’s hard enough to speak Japanese without trying to learn to speak English with a Japanese accent.”