Thomas Randall - The Waking

Today she found herself more able to concentrate, and that meant a focus on recent events that she hadn’t been able to manage earlier in the week. What seemed surreal and impossible just the day before now seemed vivid and credible. Others were having bad dreams-Ume and the other soccer girls, some of the boys they hung around with, Sakura, and Kara herself. But Miho claimed she hadn’t been troubled by nightmares, that only Sakura’s sleeplessness had interrupted her slumber.

So where were the connections?

Sakura claimed Ume had something to do with her sister’s death, and that Ume and her friends were being haunted. Despite the cat and the terrible dreams she’d had, Kara couldn’t bring herself to believe that. But clearly, something was troubling them all. Ume thought Sakura had drugged them, but that seemed not only improbable but ridiculous.

Kara had no answers, only questions. Foremost among them was how she fit into the whole scenario. She had never known Akane. If Ume was right and Sakura had done something to them, why would she include Kara? She wouldn’t. And if Akane had decided to haunt Ume because the girl had been involved in her murder, again, why haunt Kara as well?

None of it made any sense. And, as much as she thought the girl was a shallow bitch, Kara didn’t think Ume capable of murder, or even of being an accomplice without falling apart. Sakura had lost her sister; it made sense that she couldn’t be objective.

But maybe she’s half right, Kara thought. Maybe Ume knows who did it. Maybe they all do, and what’s haunting them is guilt.

Not that Sakura would talk about it. Neither she nor Miho had elaborated any further on the reasons for the animosity that seethed between Sakura and Ume. After the clash with Ume and her friends, going to buy candy had seemed like a silly thing to do, but Kara had seen it as almost a last supper. After all, as soon as Ume reported the violence, Sakura’s punishment would be swift. Ume’s friends would support whatever version of the truth the girl wanted to put forward. Kara had no doubt that Sakura would be expelled, or at least suspended.

She glanced at the clock and wondered how long before Sakura would be called in to see the headmaster. Had it already happened? If not, then why not? If there weren’t any repercussions, that meant Ume hadn’t reported the assault. And the only explanation for that was that she was planning some other form of retribution.

Someone knocked lightly on the door.

Every student in the room turned to look, but Joken-sensei completed his thought before surrendering command of the classroom. Looking perturbed at the interruption, he went to the door and slid it open.

Through the gap, Kara caught a glimpse of Mr. Matsui, which surprised her. He must have had a class to teach, so what was he doing out in the corridor?

Joken-sensei stepped into the hall and the two men spoke in low voices, not quite a whisper but not loud enough for the students to hear more than muffled inflections.

Oddly, it was Mr. Matsui who poked his head back into the classroom.

“You will be on your own for several minutes. Misbehavior will not be tolerated. See that you conduct yourselves properly until Joken-sensei returns.”

Without further comment, he withdrew, sliding the door closed.

For perhaps ten long seconds, the class remained silent, staring at the door and at one another. Then a current of murmurs swept the room as they began to wonder aloud about what had just happened. Had Joken-sensei had some sort of personal emergency, a terrible message Mr. Matsui was delivering? Or-given the grim expression on Mr. Matsui’s face- had he been called away to handle another school crisis?

A terrible feeling came over her.

Sakura, she thought.

Kara turned to find Miho watching her, just a few desks away, and she knew the concern in the other girl’s eyes was reflected in her own. Joken-sensei looked the part of the venerable old professor, with his white hair and bushy eyebrows and narrow glasses, and he clearly had a position of great respect among the faculty. If Sakura were about to be expelled or disciplined in some way, it made sense that he’d be called away.

But what about Matsui-sensei?

Kara shook her head at Miho. She didn’t think this was about Sakura after all.

Other guesses were discussed in low tones. Kara glanced around, then her gaze landed on the door. She wondered where her father was, and if he’d been pulled out of his class as well.

“Do you think there’s a fire or something?” a boy asked.

Ren turned toward the kid, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. They’d evacuate us, not close us in here.”

“Definitely,” Kara said. “Seems to me they don’t want us going anywhere.”

Most of the class looked at her then.

“You think something’s going on they don’t want us to…,” Miho began, but her words trailed off as understanding dawned on her face, followed by sadness.

Ren swore. “Do you think they found someone else?”

That silenced everyone. Nobody wanted to believe it. The grief of Jiro’s death was still very fresh, but it was awful enough as an isolated incident. If they were being kept in class because another student had been killed…

Kara stood and went to the door.

“What are you doing?” someone snapped.

“Sit down,” a boy named Goto said, angry. “We’ll all get in trouble.”

Kara took a breath and slid the door open a few inches. No one shouted at her from the hall; as far as she could tell, there was nobody in the corridor to notice her. Off to the right, she heard voices from the direction of the stairwell, and heavy footfalls, but not coming toward her.

She slid the door further open and looked out into the hall. At the eastern end of the corridor, Miss Aritomo leaned against a window, looking down. When the art teacher began to turn to scan the hall for activity, Kara pulled back into the classroom and shut the door.

“Something’s going on outside,” she said.

Several students got up and headed for the windows. Maiko, who sat in the front corner, was the first one against the glass. Half a dozen others followed, and then Miho, Ren, Kara, and both Soras joined them.

“You idiots,” Goto chided them. “What are you doing?”

Nobody answered him.

From her seat, a girl asked, “Do you see anything?”

At first, Kara didn’t. The field behind the school and the dorm off to the right of the property and the trees in the distance were undisturbed. But then she noticed movement in her peripheral vision and looked down and to the right. At the far corner of the building, several teachers stood on the pavement of the parking area, necks craned as they stared up at something.

“Oh, no,” she started to say.

“The teachers are down there,” Ren said at the same time.

Maiko fumbled with a latch and slid open the window in front of her. For once, Goto said nothing. When Kara glanced back at him, she even thought he had shifted in his chair, as if he wanted to get up and join them but didn’t dare.

“Someone’s up on the roof,” Maiko said. “A girl.”

That got them all standing, rushing to the window in a clatter of desks and chairs and falling books. Kara was jostled and nudged and she nudged in return, feeling a little sick even as she did so, hating that they were all so desperate to watch the spectacle unfold. Was it horror or fascination or excitement that made them all so determined to see? She didn’t want to know the answer.

Maiko hung halfway out the window, with a couple of girls holding onto her so that she didn’t fall. She twisted around, looking up at the far corner, trying to get a glimpse of whoever stood at the edge of the roof.