Thomas Randall - The Waking

Kara arched an eyebrow. “Nothing like that. He’s very nice.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s very nice,” Sakura said, teasing her.

A moment later, a shudder went through Kara and she sensed someone standing beside her, a shadow blocking the sun. She turned to find that the soccer club girls had come to watch the game.

Ume gave her a dismissive look. “The bonsai likes baseball. What a surprise. A bunch of foolish boys trying to be something they’re not. No wonder it appeals to you.”

Kara took a deep breath, feeling herself blush. Back home, she knew girls who got into hostile confrontations all the time-they seemed hardwired for that kind of thing-but she’d managed to avoid fights or even grudges. Worse yet, she knew Japanese custom demanded she ignore or deflect Ume’s animosity somehow. Just because this girl didn’t care about how she was expected to behave, that didn’t mean that Kara had to stoop to her level.

But the other soccer girls were whispering to one another and doing that little smiling-behind-their-hands thing that annoyed the crap out of Kara. They were so happy with themselves, behaving like perfect little Japanese girls during school but full of quiet, malicious nastiness.

“If you’re not interested in boys, I certainly won’t judge you,” Kara said. “It leaves more for the rest of us. And you have plenty of pretty girls to choose from.”

The arrogant smile slipped from Ume’s face. “I’m sure you’ve had your share of boys.”

Kara felt her right hand clench into a fist. The implication- that she was some kind of slut-could not have been clearer.

“I ignore your taunts in school for my father’s sake,” she said, “but we’re not in school now.”

Miho slid her arm through Kara’s and leaned over to whisper, “Don’t let her make you do something you’ll regret.”

Kara glanced at Miho. Just beyond her, Sakura stood staring at Ume, jaw tight with anger or hatred, or both. She looked more furious than Kara felt. When Miho started to escort Kara away, she thought Sakura might not follow, that there might be some kind of fight after all. But Miho called to her to come along, and Sakura took a deep breath and joined them. In the midst of that tension, Ume did not so much as glance at Sakura. The queen bitch behaved like Sakura wasn’t even there.

Some of Ume’s friends called out, “Good-bye, bonsai” as they walked away, but Kara didn’t turn around.

“Not worth it,” Miho said softly as the three of them walked around toward the dorm. “Someday fate will punish her. She’ll regret the way she treats people.”

“You think?” Kara replied. “In my experience, girls like that just keep getting away with it.”

Sakura gave a soft laugh. “Not forever.”

“So she was trying to bait me?” Kara asked. “You think she wanted me to do something?”

“Of course. Your father may not blame you, but Ume’s parents are wealthy. Her father is a diplomat, very influential. Who do you think would be blamed if you fought with her?”

Kara considered that, and what it would do to her father’s position at the school. No matter how unpleasant Ume got, Kara would have to ignore her. She couldn’t risk getting her father in trouble.

“I can’t dishonor him.”

“Exactly,” Miho said. “In Japan, you must be careful of such things.”

Sakura gave another humorless laugh. “I don’t care if I shame my parents. I could hurt her for you.”

“That’s not helping,” Miho scolded her.

Now Sakura’s grin did have some humor in it. “I know.”

“It’s hard not to react to her. I was raised to speak my mind and stand up for myself,” Kara said.

Miho sighed. “I would love to visit America someday.”

“We’ll go together,” Kara promised.

“Not until I have a cigarette, please,” Sakura said.

With her nicotine addiction leading the way, they went around the dorm, across the field that separated it from the main school building, and down the path between the eastern wall and the woods. Kara looked for the recessed doorway where she knew Sakura went to smoke. In anticipation, Sakura took out her cigarettes, tapped one into her hand, and put it between her lips. She produced her lighter and flicked its flame alive.

A scream tore across the school grounds and Sakura’s hand froze. Kara and Miho exchanged a look and a second scream filled the late afternoon sky.

“It came from that direction,” Miho said, pointing toward the front of the school.

They began to run. Sakura dropped her cigarette and vanished her lighter into a pocket. The girls hurried around to the front of the school to see other students rushing toward the bay shore.

Kara felt an unpleasant twist in her stomach and the back of her neck prickled with dread. People were gathering at the edge of the water, not far from the trees-not far from the shrine to Akane. A few of them had cell phones out, frantic conversations merging into a low buzz of chatter.

When the girls reached the shore, all they could do was join the crowd milling about the edge. Kara tried to listen to the mutterings of the other students, and she heard the Japanese word for “body” before an opening appeared in the mob and she saw two girls comforting a third, who wiped tears from her eyes. A pair of boys had taken off their shoes and waded knee-deep into the bay, peering down into the water.

Shouts and footfalls came from behind them now, and Kara glanced back to see other students coming around from the rear of the school, boys in their baseball caps and spectators from the game. Someone must have gone to get them, or else they’d been on the receiving end of cell phone calls. Word was spreading fast.

One of the boys in the water closed his eyes and took a step back from whatever they’d found.

“Stop that,” the other boy said. “Help me.”

He bent and reached down into the water, grabbing hold of something heavy. The other boy hesitated, but then a young teacher, Fujimori-sensei, pushed his way through the students, calling out “ doite ” as he made his way to the water’s edge. He didn’t pause to take off his shoes, and Kara felt sure someone must already have told him what was happening. Kara wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t seem to manage it.

Mr. Fujimori reached into the water and helped the boy drag the body onto the shore. The dead boy’s face was bloated and pale, and his clothes squished as they set him down. He wore no shoes, and for some reason that detail was the thing that snapped Kara out of her mesmerized state. She swallowed hard, covered her mouth with a hand, and turned away.

As she did, she saw Sakura’s face, etched with horror and a kind of panic.

“Jiro?” Sakura said.

Kara blinked. Jiro? She knew that name. Pale and puffy, she had not recognized the dead boy, but if it was the same Jiro, he was a friend of Hachiro’s.

Miho stepped up to Sakura and took both the girl’s hands in her own. “Are you all right?”

Sakura shook her head. “I dreamed it,” she whispered, eyes wide with shock. “I dreamed he was dead.”

Mr. Fujimori had his cell phone out now and was calling the police. A voice rose above all of the mutterings and questions and crying.

“Jiro! No!”

The crowd parted to let Ume through. Hachiro followed a few feet behind her, looking numb and lost. But Ume clutched at her clothing and twisted her hair as she stood a few feet away from the dead boy. Then she screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks. Several of the soccer girls tried to pull her away and Ume slapped the one nearest her, screaming at her to get away. The girls backed off, but Mr. Fujimori moved to block her view of Jiro’s corpse.

Ume shook her head from side to side, sobbing in her grief. Her whole body trembled as she tried to get by the teacher. Mr. Fujimori attempted to hold her, but Ume brushed him off and fell to her knees. The bay water gently lapped the shore. The corpse’s legs were still in the water, and it shifted slightly with the ebb and flow.