Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime Page 3

  “Urk.”

  Tohko closed her eyes rapturously. “Oh, I hope little Chia’s romance goes well! I wonder what kind of report she’ll write for me. Will it be like a fluffy strawberry shortcake smothered in whipped cream? Or will it taste like chocolate infused with a dash of orange liqueur? I wouldn’t mind something like a mille-feuille with loads of custard packed into crispy pie crust, either….”

  She never thought about anything but her treats. Her fantasizing must have made her hungry because she tore a page from The Great Gatsby and started to crunch on it.

  “Mmmm, so good. Fitzgerald has a really snazzy flavor. I feel as if flamboyance, glory, and passion are dancing a waltz in my mouth, like I’m eating glittering caviar with champagne at a party. When I bite into it, its delicate skin pops, and a fragrant liquid spills into my mouth. The main character Gatsby is so innocent, I can’t stop rooting for him.”

  Wasn’t that story about Gatsby getting jerked around heartlessly by Daisy, his former lover and another man’s wife, until it destroyed him? I wouldn’t call that “snazzy.” More like running over with pathos. But I suppose everyone interprets literature differently.

  “Oh no!”

  Tohko suddenly cried out as if the world were coming to an end. She twisted her face into a frown, her forehead crinkling.

  “This is awful! I borrowed this book from the library, and I just accidentally ate it!”

  I went to the library with Tohko to apologize for “accidentally dropping the book and it just ripped!” (Tohko said she was too scared to go alone and forced me to go with her). The day after, Takeda came to my class just as she always did.

  “You making any progress with Shuji? Has he suggested going out or anything yet?”

  We’d gone into the hall and stood there talking.

  “Oh gosh, thank you for worrying about me! You’re sooo nice, Konoha. I’m touched!”

  I blushed. I was just sick of writing letters and wanted them to hurry up and get together already.

  “Actually, thanks to your letters I’ve gotten tons closer to Shuji, so I’m thinking maybe just one more little push…”

  “You have to keep ramping things up like that,” I said with conviction. Takeda nodded, rapt.

  “Okay! I’m gonna take it to the limit! I’ve been keeping notes for my report, you know. Look!”

  She gleefully held up the notebook she’d been hugging to her chest. It was about half the size of a school notebook, and it had a picture of a yellow duck on the cover. Takeda had sworn she was an awful writer, but she was sure gung-ho about it.

  “It’s a little embarrassing, but it’s actually so much fun writing about someone I like. Oh, but I’d feel so dumb showing you my notes. I wrote such lame stuff. I have to reread them and make a clean copy.”

  “If that’s how you feel, maybe you should try writing the letters yourself?”

  Takeda hid behind her notebook and shook her head fiercely.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that! I’d be so embarrassed! But you’re right. I’d like to write for Shuji myself eventually. But until then, Mister Inoue, I know I can count on you!”

  Sigh. I would have to keep ghostwriting these things after all.

  Just then Takeda looked at me uneasily.

  Cheeks flushed, peering over the edge of her notebook and looking completely unsure of herself, she hesitantly asked, “Um… do you think I’m annoying?”

  I jumped. “What? N-no, not at all! I think it’s kind of fun writing these love letters, too. Ha-ha!”

  Before I could stop myself, I’d told an outright lie.

  But Takeda smiled innocently at it, like a little puppy. “Great! I can’t wait to see tomorrow’s letter!”

  She’d cheered up instantaneously and, waving her hand instead of the tail she lacked, she ran off, looking like she might tumble over at any moment.

  Sigh… I’m such a fraud.

  When I went back to class, shoulders slumped, the boys started teasing me. “Your girlfriend is over here every day,” and “Way to go, scoring one of the new girls so fast! I didn’t think you were the type.”

  “Geez, guys, it’s not like that,” I retorted weakly, laughing.

  I didn’t want to draw people’s attention or hear their reactions. I was done exposing myself to unnecessary risks by standing out. If heaven dropped an extravagant gift into my lap, I wasn’t strong or shameless enough to act like I deserved it.

  As I was sitting down, I felt someone’s eyes on me. I turned around and saw a girl staring at me.

  Nanase Kotobuki.

  She had bleached brown hair and a knockout figure. She was one of the girls in our class whom everyone noticed because of her flashy, cosmopolitan style and her tendency to say exactly what she thought.

  Boys were always gossiping about her. “Kotobuki’s so harsh, but I’d still go out with her.”

  I was under the impression that she hated me. That’s because ever since classes had started in April, she would sometimes grace me with this same frosty look.

  I don’t remember doing anything to deserve the glares, though. Oh wait, maybe yesterday…

  I was zoned out when Kotobuki came toward me with a haughty expression pasted on her face, stuck her hand out at me, and brusquely demanded, “Four hundred and sixty yen.”

  “Wha—?”

  “That’s how much it’s going to cost to replace the book you dropped that ‘just ripped’ yesterday. We collect fines for books that are lost or damaged.”

  “Hey, hold on! Yesterday you told us not to worry about it!”

  When I’d gone to the library yesterday with Tohko to apologize, Kotobuki had been the one at the desk.

  I’d thought to myself, Ack, why did it have to be Kotobuki’s shift? I’d prepared myself to get put through the wringer, but despite her severe expression, she released us without a fight. “You didn’t do it on purpose. Try to be more careful next time.”

  So why this thing with the 460 yen? And why ask me? Tohko was the one who’d ripped (or rather, eaten) the book.

  Kotobuki’s eyebrows hiked dangerously higher.

  “I can’t exactly send Amano a bill. She pulls a lot of weight at the library. She can find books better than the librarians. Plus a lot of the student aides owe her favors. When I was a first-year student and didn’t know where a book went, she helped me out, too. So you have to pay for her, Inoue.”

  “Um, Kotobuki… don’t you think that’s a little unorthodox?”

  “Not at all,” she replied crisply.

  Man, and she didn’t hesitate at all when she said that. I didn’t want things to escalate, so I got out my wallet and placed a five-hundred-yen coin in her hand with a deep bow.

  “I sincerely apologize for any trouble my club’s president may have caused.”

  Closing her fist around the coin, Kotobuki frowned. “I’ll give you your change later. If you tell Amano, I’ll hit you.”

  Geez, how come I had to clean up Tohko’s messes?

  I’d expected Kotobuki to be done with me, but she still didn’t go away. Instead, she just kept glaring at me.

  “So that first-year student who keeps coming to see you all the time… is she your girlfriend?”

  “You mean Takeda? No, we’re not going out.”

  “Oh really? She works at the library, so I know a little bit about her. She strikes me as clumsy but totally natural, and it seems like she could be the victim of some guy’s Lolita fantasy pretty easily. Are you sure you’re not dating?”

  Victim of a Lolita fantasy? What a horrible thing to say. But since arguing would just encourage her, I smiled instead. “I’m just helping Takeda out, since Tohko asked me to.”

  Kotobuki’s eyebrows went up even farther and a look of rage came over her face.

  Er… did I mess that up somehow?

  Kotobuki sucked in a breath, then frigidly replied, “I don’t actually care who you’re dating. But if you’re not going out, you should lay off the lovey-dov
ey meet-ups in the hallway. It’s pathetic how blatant you’re being.”

  She let loose what venom she had, then left.

  I had history class next. While I was copying the notes on the blackboard, I thought about how badly I needed to shove Takeda off on Shuji, and fast.

  I was still thinking about all the harsh things Kotobuki had dumped on me, after all.

  How was I going to get out of this? Maybe I should stand up for myself and write a letter full of real passion….

  The clear sky had clouded over, and drops of water began to spatter the window.

  It’s raining… I wonder if I left an umbrella in the club locker.

  As I grew older, my impression that there was a significant disconnect between the way that I and other people experienced things grew only stronger. It took all the energy I had to summon even the slightest sympathy for things that made other people happy or sad.

  Why does that make them happy?

  Why does that make them sad?

  When everyone was excited, cheering for their friends in sports competitions, when they were depressed at losing a friend who transferred to another school, I felt as uncomfortable as if I were in a room full of foreigners with whom I shared no common language. I flinched away from them and felt sharp pains in my stomach. The crushing din of words that everyone spoke around me was utterly incomprehensible to me.

  One day, someone stuffed firecrackers into the mouth of our class rabbit, and it died a horrible death. While everyone else was sobbing, I felt ill at ease and stared at my fingers and tried to make myself very small.

  Why? Because I didn’t feel the least bit sad about the rabbit’s death.

  I remembered how charming the rabbit had been in life, and its soft fur. But try as I might to feel sad, my heart remained unmoved, and I was unable to shed so much as a single tear. Stealing a glance at the others, I saw that I was the only one not crying.

  That made my neck flush bright red, a feeling of such shame and terror that my ears roared with pounding blood.

  Why? Why were they all crying? I just couldn’t understand it. But it would be odd for one person to be unperturbed while the rest of them wept. I had to act like I was crying. My face was tense, so I couldn’t cry very convincingly. My cheeks burned. What would I do if someone realized I was faking my tears? I just wouldn’t lift my face. Hang your head and look upset. Ah, and now everyone’s guffawing. I wonder what’s so funny. I have no idea. But if I don’t do the same as everyone else, they’ll think I’m strange and cast me out.

  Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. No, cry. Cry. No, laugh, you have to laugh.

  If I can’t do such a simple thing, I am strange, a freak.

  My stomach twisted itself into knots with the shame and fear I felt at being unable to share everyone else’s emotions. I imagined the cold stares they would give me when I was exposed.

  I’m like the one black sheep born into a pure white flock.

  Unable to enjoy the things my peers enjoyed, unable to grieve the things they grieved, unable to eat the things they ate—being born an ignoble black sheep, I didn’t understand the things my friends found pleasant, such as love, kindness, and sympathy. I simply dusted my dark wool in white powder and pretended I was a white sheep, too.

  If my peers discovered that I was in fact a black sheep, they would gang up on me and stab me with their horns and trample me with their hooves. Please, please, don’t find out, don’t find out.

  Each time the rain fell, each time the wind blew, I shuddered in anticipation of the white powder I’d used to cover myself falling off, of someone shouting, “Hey, he’s a black sheep!” and I had not a moment of ease in my heart. But there was nothing else I could do.

  I did my best to smile pleasantly at my parents, my teachers, my classmates; I became a mime to make them laugh. Oh please, don’t notice that I’m a monster who doesn’t understand human emotion. I’ll pretend to be a person so stupid they redefine idiocy, and while everyone is laughing at me and pitying me and forgiving me, please let me live on.

  I’m still wearing my mask, still acting in this farce.

  “Wow, it’s really coming down!”

  I was walking down a dimly lit hallway after school.

  It wasn’t really that late yet, but outside the window it was dark and the sky was heavy with black clouds. Fat drops of rain stabbed at the earth, chilling the air with the sound of their impact.

  The air was brisk and humid.

  “The chance of rain was only supposed to be fifty percent today, too. Man…”

  It would have been fine if my umbrella had still been in the book club’s locker.

  But when I opened the locker, I discovered that the umbrella I’d put in there when it rained last week was gone.

  “Oh, sorry! I borrowed it the last time it rained and forgot to put it back,” Tohko said casually.

  That day, the two of us had run home together, getting soaked.

  “You need to put things back when you’re done with them!”

  “I knowwww. But darting through the rain like this is so exhilarating. It feels so youthful!”

  She thinks everything belongs to her, and no one better question it…

  Not even Miss Piggy was as self-absorbed as she was. Seriously, why was I even in this club?

  Hmm… it’s a mystery.

  I’d had cleaning duty today, but the time had gone by in a flash. I was surprised at how late it had gotten by the time I finished up the work my homeroom teacher had assigned. Tohko was probably clattering her chair around, wondering where her snack was. There were lots of old books in the club room, but they didn’t keep very well in that environment and, as Tohko put it, “They’re past their expiration dates. They would mess up my stomach.”

  “But you know,” she added with a very serious face, “if they’re stored properly, I think old books must have the taste of an aged wine or truffle. It makes me drool just thinking about it. And then, you know what else? Those handwritten manuscripts of Soseki and Ōgai and Mushanokoji that are on display at their memorial museums—I bet those taste better than anything you can imagine! I wouldn’t even care if they messed with my stomach. I wonder if I’ll ever get a taste.”

  I was seriously concerned that Tohko might someday try to break into one of those museums.

  As I was climbing the stairs to the book club room, I halted. “Oh man, I forgot my classics textbook.”

  The classics teacher was really strict, and since I had the class tomorrow, I’d intended to review at home tonight.

  I decided to go all the way back to the classroom to get it.

  The halls were almost deserted, probably because of the rain, and very quiet.

  I was reaching out to open the classroom door when I heard voices inside. Apparently some girls were still here talking.

  I was reluctant to barge into a group of girls alone, and while I hung back in the hallway, I picked up the sound of their conversation.

  “What! Eri, you’re after Akutagawa, too? Seriously?”

  “Urf, you like him, too? That means we’re rivals, Mori.”

  “Hang on! I think Akutagawa is hot, too.”

  “No way! That makes three of us, Micks!”

  Apparently they were talking about the boys they liked.

  And they weren’t talking about Akutagawa, the famous author, but the tallest, most taciturn guy in our class. He looked very mature, his features sort of cool and insightful, so I could see why he was so popular.

  But now what was I gonna do? It just got way harder to go in there.

  “Awesome! It’s me and Hirosaki forever, then! No competition for me!”

  “Oh, so you like Hirosaki, huh, Suzuno?”

  “You know it. I’ve got a thing for bad boys. And as a matter of fact, we’re going to go see the dolphins next Saturday!”

  “What?”

  “When did that happen?”

  “It’s only been a month since we got our new classes! You move wa
y too fast!”

  “I haven’t said more than ‘good morning’ and ‘see you’ to Akutagawa yet. You’re treating me to a Häagen-Dazs, Suzuno!”

  “Me, too! Two scoops, too, not just one!”

  “Oh man, that’s going to be tough to do after I buy all the clothes for my date. How about some ice cream cups instead?”

  The girls laughed, joking and playing together.

  Hmmm. Maybe it would be better to go to the club room and just come back later.

  “Okay, now it’s Nanase’s turn.”

  “Yeah! Everyone else fessed up, so now you’ve got to come clean, too.”

  Nanase—as in Kotobuki? So she was in there, too.

  “I know you don’t like Akutagawa, too.”

  “Don’t even say that! She’s superhot, I could never compete.”

  “I…”

  I heard Kotobuki’s voice through the door.

  I knew I shouldn’t be listening, but I wanted to know what kind of person a rude, uncompromising girl like her would go for. I held my breath.

  “I don’t like anyone. There is someone I hate, though.”

  “Oo, who?”

  “Konoha Inoue.”

  Kotobuki said my name with perfect clarity.

  My thoughts ground to a momentary halt then. The next moment, my brain burned with fury.

  “What? Why? He’s so nice, how can anyone hate him?”

  “Seriously. He’s so harmless and ethereal, don’t you think?”

  “He’s got a boring personality so he doesn’t really stand out, but if you look real, real hard, he’s cute.”

  “Yeah! And he’s so nice to talk to, and he’s always smiling. What’s wrong with that?”

  Kotobuki answered in an irritated tone. “That’s what’s so infuriating. He’s always got this deliberate little smile on his face. You never know what he’s actually thinking. It’s creepy.”

  Heat seeped slowly out from my cheeks all the way to my ears, and my hands shook. My throat felt tight.