What is America like? It can’t be too different from home, right? Not that life in Japan was all that easy to begin with. I’m probably worrying too much. Hell, I’m even worrying in my dreams. I wish I could wake up, but then I’d probably just go on worrying in the real world. How pathetic.
Apple chapter break [https://i.imgur.com/plQ2Umy.png]
“Nii-san, hurry and get up already! I’m not gonna be late on my first day because of you!”
I sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I glanced out my window at the road four stories below. Tiny people scurried up and down the street and between the cars parked on both sides. Trees planted at neat intervals along the sidewalks were starting to turn shades of orange and yellow, adding a splash of color to the scene. From way up here I could almost forget I was in an entirely different country than I was used to. Almost.
Suddenly I felt a jerking motion as my covers were yanked away from me, the force of which sent me rolling off the bed and onto the stiff carpeted floor.
I landed directly on my nose.
“Ow! What the hell was that for, Rika?”
“Tch,” was the only answer I got. I rolled over and looked up to see my little sister rolling her eyes at me.
Rika was wearing a short jacket over a light blue, knee-length dress, along with her signature red ribbon she always wore in her hair, which I could only assume she had tied herself since I hadn’t been awake to do it for her like usual. It was a very girlish getup, which combined with her cute face typically had the effect of making people think she was a few years younger than she really was.
She looked especially youthful today, or at least she was bursting with childlike energy. It made sense—she was just starting ninth grade, after all.
Back in Japan she would be just another junior high student, but here in America the system was a bit different, so this was the year she was making her high school debut. Of course she’d want to look her best. Which for her meant looking like a twelve-year-old, apparently.
Using my bedside table as a brace, I lifted myself to my knees, then stood up unsteadily. I grabbed my new phone from the table, turned on the screen and squinted to make out the blurry image that appeared.
“Crap, it’s 7:00 already?”
“That’s what I was trying to— hey!” Rika exclaimed as I pushed her out of the room.
“I have to get dressed!”
I slammed the door before she had a chance to complain. Then, being a perfectly reasonable teenager who always kept his composure in trying times, I did the only thing I could be expected to do in my situation.
I started to panic.
Crap, crap, crap, crap. This was bad. If I remembered correctly school was supposed to start at 8:00, and it’d take about forty minutes to get there, so that meant I had… basically no time at all. Great. So much for making a good first impression. Now I was going to be too late to get to know anyone and I’d never have any friends and I’d probably get suspended for being late before school even starts and—
Hold on, doesn’t that seem a bit extreme? I seriously need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Okay Haruto, you’ve got this.
That’s me, by the way. Higasaki Haruto, or Haruto Higasaki as you’d say it here in America. Age seventeen, third—wait no—fourth year high schooler in New York City as of today. Which was going to be a very new experience for me.
Until just under a month ago I had never even been outside of Japan. I had lived a peaceful life in Tokyo for as long as I could remember. Maybe not a particularly happy one, but it was undeniably peaceful.
I always imagined high school would be some sort of glamorous experience, where even a shut-in otaku like me would have a few super close friends who I could sit next to during lunch and hang out with after school. Maybe we’d have to save our club from being disbanded by recruiting some unlikely passerby, or I’d join a sports team and help our school achieve victory for the first time in my seniors’ last season.
Not that I had any particular interest in clubs or sports, that was just how it seemed to go in every anime series I had ever watched.
Maybe a girl would even confess her feelings to me under a cherry tree in the courtyard, though that last one felt like a bit of a stretch. This is me we’re talking about after all. Then again, my parents met when they were in high school, so I suppose anything’s possible.
The adults I talked to were all consistently eager to reminisce about their high school days like they were some sort of golden age. They had an endless supply of stories to tell about school festivals and club activities and the like, to the point that it got pretty annoying having to listen to them all. From my perspective, it felt like every single person in Japan had had the perfect high school experience. Everyone except me.
Sure, I made a few friends in my first year, but we were never very close. By the time the next year rolled around and we weren’t all in the same class anymore we stopped talking much and they slowly forgot about me.
My second year was even harder. A lot of people already had established friend groups that were seemingly impossible to penetrate, leaving me totally alone.
Well, not totally. I did manage to make one friend, but she… I’d rather not talk about her right now, to be honest. Suffice it to say that before long I was ready to give up and resign myself to a life of playing video games in my room every evening while the people I had once called my friends hung out at cafes and karaoke boxes and had a generally better and more fulfilling time.
But in my third and final year of high school, everything changed.
It started out the same as every year. School started in April, and I was put in a new class full of unfamiliar faces. I spent Golden Week assuaging my loneliness by playing dating sims on my laptop all day.
Then it happened. My dad came home one day and announced that he had been offered a promotion that would double his salary. In our current economy that’s a big deal, especially when you have a family to raise. There was only one caveat—we’d have to move to America.
See, my dad is a salesperson for a big Japanese tech company, and they wanted him to be the new marketing supervisor for their New York branch, presumably because he’s a fluent English speaker (he’s technically half British, and he was raised bilingual). My parents agreed that it was too good an opportunity to pass up, so before I knew it we were packing our things and flying across the ocean, leaving everything I’d ever known behind.
Not that I cared too much. My life experience in Tokyo hadn’t been anything special, and a new home meant a new school, which could be an opportunity to reinvent myself and make some new friends. It still didn’t seem probable though. More likely everyone would already have their friend quota met and I would be all alone, as usual. There was only one word that really properly described me. Pathetic.
I frantically searched through my closet for something very important. I was wearing my glasses now—I wouldn’t have been able to see what I was looking for without them—but still in my sleepwear, which consisted of the T-shirt I was wearing yesterday and my boxer shorts. My thick black hair was a mess of tangles and knots. But I couldn’t deal with that just yet. I had… to… find… ugh, where was it?! It couldn’t be that my mom had just forgotten to buy it, right? There was no way I was that unlucky.
I ran to the door and threw it open again, ignoring the fact that I was still in my underwear. I didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like that.
Rika squeaked. She was now sitting on a cushion at the short chabudai table in the dining room section of our studio apartment, which was only distinguishable from the rest of the apartment’s open main area by the fact that it contained a chabudai table.
Actually, it wasn’t even a real chabudai table—it was a regular dining table that my dad had taken a saw to the legs of, resulting in it being somewhat shorter and significantly wobblier.
My mom had insisted that we dine in the traditional Japanese fashion, even if it was completely unnecessary. She was really into old Japanese traditions, which I was 100% sure was entirely due to her love of old period dramas. Insult the name of Kurosawa Akira in our household at your own risk.
Anyway, Rika was in the middle of saying, “Cover yourself up!” when I shouted over her to make sure my mom would hear.
“Mom, do you know where my school uniform is?”
My mom’s expression was one of exasperation, and maybe a small amount of pity.
“Haruto, your new school doesn’t have a uniform. Remember?”
“…Huh?”
Actually, now that I thought about it, I did remember. I must have forgotten that detail in my hurry. We didn’t have an opening ceremony either, so I guess I should have been expecting differences like that.
Rika rolled her eyes again, like she couldn’t believe I could be so clueless. Hey, do you even know me? I could be a lot worse.
“Erm, right. I’ll just… find something to wear then.”
I shut the door slowly. Solidly embarrassed now, I walked back to my closet. Alright then, what to wear…
I quickly realized that the only clothes I had were uber casual, with the side effect of making me look exactly like the total shut-in I was. Not good.
Besides having no good options, I also had no idea what American kids usually wore to school. What if I look totally different from everyone else and I end up getting ostracized forever and I become an antisocial NEET and eventually die alone—
Wow, I really needed to get myself together. Choosing an outfit couldn’t be too hard, could it?
I decided a tracksuit definitely wasn’t the way to go, so I picked out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had an English word that I didn’t know printed on it in big fiery letters. I’d gotten it back in my first year of high school on one of the only shopping trips I ever went on with my friends. One of the other guys wanted to get matching shirts, and everyone agreed that this one looked cool.
I never saw any of them wear theirs after that.
I stepped into the bathroom to violently yank all the gnarls out of my hair with a comb, then went back to the closet and added a plaid overshirt to my ensemble because the jeans and tee still looked too casual to me when I was standing in front of the mirror. After adjusting my glasses a few times and slinging my shoulder bag over my, well, shoulder, I was finally ready to meet the world of American high school head-on.
It was already 7:13.
We’re definitely going to miss the 7:15 subway.
Well, there wasn’t much I could do about that. I opened my door one more time and dashed over to where my family was sitting around the table. I didn’t sit down with them—in fact, I didn’t even stop moving. I just raced by the table and grabbed a piece of toast on my way.
“Come on Rika, let’s go.”
“Buff I’b not dun eafing.”
“You can finish on the way.”
I caught her arm and dragged her to her feet. She responded by kicking me in the shins, but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. At least not much.
My mom took a sip of her imported Japanese tea.
“Have a good first day of school, kids.”
“We’ll try.”
“And Haruto?” my dad said without looking away from the business magazine he was reading.
“Yeah?”
“Try to find a girl you can bring home to introduce to us soon, okay?”
He winked from behind his magazine, which looked about as cringe as you’re probably imagining.
I had no idea how to respond to that. Like, we literally just moved here, Dad. Could you maybe chill for at least a week or two? That’s what I would have liked to say, but what came out was more like, “I, uh…”
“Something more committal than ‘I, uh’ would be nice.”
“I’m not really interested in stuff like that right now,” I managed. That wasn’t quite true, but I had long since given up on the idea of ever having a real girlfriend. Making normal friends was hard enough for someone as pathetic as me.
My dad didn’t take the hint. “Of course you are, every young man has desires after all! There’s no reason to be ashamed of that. You can’t keep doting on your little sister forever, you know.”
I definitely didn’t like what he was implying there. Apparently neither did Rika.
“This is stupid. Let’s get out of here, Nii-san. We don’t want to be late on our first day.”
Thank God for little sisters.
Wait, not like that! Boy, I was just like my dad sometimes.
That thought didn’t thrill me. Especially since his one trait that I definitely didn’t have was the one I envied the most: his ability to completely ignore any anxiety and just say whatever was on his mind, social acceptability be damned. It was truly impressive.
Rika and I rushed to the front door before the conversation could get any more awkward. We stopped in the tiled entryway that made for a convenient makeshift genkan and quickly pulled on our shoes. In a moment we were both out the door and taking our first steps toward our brand-new school life.
A few steps later I tripped on my shoelaces and face planted again.
That doesn’t bode well for my first day. I groaned and rubbed my nose. If I kept this up it was going to be broken by the time I made it to school. That or my glasses would be.
I put my toast in my mouth and knelt down to adjust my shoelaces. Standing again, I ran to catch up with Rika, who had already begun to descend the stairs.
“Running to school with toast in your mouth, Nii-san? Isn’t that a bit cliché? You’re like a girl from an anime.”
“Oh, shut it.”
Rika could be… troublesome at times, but she was really a nice girl at heart. The sarcastic tendencies marring her otherwise good personality mostly came from the influence of the social circles she had been a part of when we still lived in Japan. The kind of things junior high schoolers were capable of these days scared me. I secretly hoped that coming to a new school would help to straighten out my sister’s demeanor a little bit.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the lobby to the front door of the building. From there it was only a five-minute walk to the Cortelyou Road station, a fact that on any other day would have seemed reassuring. Today five minutes of walking felt like an eternity.
“Hey Haruto, could you help me with this? It feels really loose.”
As I’d previously suspected, Rika’s ribbon wasn’t tied quite right. I didn’t know why she always insisted on having it tied in such a particular way, nor why she couldn’t seem to learn to get it right no matter how patient I was with her, but that was just the way it was. I undid the ribbon and tied it again from the start.
Having been delayed yet again, I saw no other recourse but to run all the way to the station.
Riding the subway four stops north put us out on Flatbush Avenue, which shared a name with the neighborhood where our apartment was located. Figures I’d end up living somewhere with a name like deflated shrubbery. It fits me.
That was a sad thought. Which didn’t make it any less true.
When I’d plotted out the route before, I planned to take a small detour to walk past Prospect Park on our way to school. Supposedly you could see the beautifully clear lake from the road, and if you were lucky you might even spot a few ducks gliding across the surface.
That would have to wait until next time though. Instead, we continued straight north to the stop where we boarded the B43 bus. From there it would take 20 minutes on the bus before we reached our destination. I tried to keep myself from wanting to throttle the driver for not going any faster.
Apple chapter break [https://i.imgur.com/plQ2Umy.png]
By some miracle we managed to arrive at school on time.
Atwater High School. It was by no means the best school in Brooklyn, but it wasn’t bad either.
I had started looking for a school to apply to in the summer when I first learned my family would be moving, but it wasn’t easy. The application process in New York had to start during the end of the previous school year to accommodate the large number of new high school students. Since I started searching so late, a lot of schools were already filled up. I had been worried that we would end up in some sort of school full of troubled kids who spend their free time playing the “who can break the most laws in an hour” game, but with the help of the New York City school board I finally managed to get Rika and me into a school that seemed at least somewhat respectable.
We didn’t even have to take an entrance exam since American high schools don’t have those either. Add that to the list with uniforms and opening ceremonies.
Despite its name, Atwater High School was not actually at the water. In fact, you could easily miss the fact that New York City is made up of a bunch of islands if you didn’t know already. From street level it looked like pretty much any other huge city. But not only was Atwater High School not by the water, it had no other remarkable features at all. The most average, boring school you’ll ever see.
Yup, sounds about right for me.
I was surprised to see that only a small handful of other students were arriving at the same time that we were. Is everyone else inside already? Maybe Americans are just really prompt. Something about that felt wrong, but I decided not to worry about it for now.
As Rika went ahead, I paused to look over the school building one more time. It was five stories tall and shaped oddly, like a really angular crescent or a slightly curved L. The concave part of the crescent mostly faced away from the street, allowing only a glimpse into the tiny courtyard behind the school.
A silver flagpole was attached to the front of the building at a thirty-degree angle with the wall. The American flag sat still at the end, wishing for some wind to blow it around proudly. Unfortunately, the tall buildings in the area bullied the poor flag, denying it the wind it so desired. Stupid buildings. I hope the students here are better than you.
“What are you staring for? You look like you’ve never seen a school before.”
I jumped at the sound of someone’s voice behind me. Who could possibly be talking to me? Rika already went inside, so it couldn’t be her. Besides, that definitely wasn’t her voice.
Maybe I was just imagining things, or maybe whoever the voice belonged to was actually talking to someone else, in which case it’d be super embarrassing if I answered assuming they were addressing me. I should probably just ignore it…
“Ehem.”
“Yes!” Surprised into action, I felt my body lock into a straight pose, like a soldier standing at attention. I turned around stiffly to see who was talking to me.
It was a girl, the first American girl my age who I had seen up close irl. She was just a bit taller than me, which I figured probably meant she clocked in at average for girls around here.
Her most notable feature was her bright red hair, which would have looked totally out of place anywhere in Tokyo other than Harajuku. It was long and wavy and cascaded over her shoulders like a pair of crimson waterfalls, perfectly framing her heart-shaped face. She wore attractive, understated makeup that complimented her alabaster skin and served to draw your gaze to her eyes, which were such a brilliant blue that they were hard to look away from.
Her body shape could be described as well-balanced in that her bust and hips were very well balanced with each other. She was actually somewhat thin, but that was easy to overlook because of her curves.
She wore a pretty white blouse with sleeves that billowed out before tapering back at the wrists, as well as a headband that was chosen to match the blouse’s color. Her jeans showed off the shape of her legs a little too effectively, and cut off just above the ankles, allowing one to more properly admire her stylish boots. She carried a backpack with a feminine flower pattern that complimented her outfit well.
In short, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
“Hey! Who said you could stare at me?”
She shot me a disgusted look that made me want to crawl into a hole and die. You’re one to talk, you’ve clearly been looking me over for longer than I have you!
I doubted she had any real interest in me though. It looked more like she saw me as some kind of exotic animal. I guessed in a way that wasn’t completely wrong.
“Whatever. Get out of my way.”
She pushed past me and started walking toward the school entrance, where another girl wearing what I assumed to be similarly trendy clothing was waving to her.
The beautiful, mysterious girl looks down on Haruto. [https://i.imgur.com/7Ql7UQK.jpeg]
I stood in a daze, trying to figure out what had just happened. Had I done something to make this strange girl angry at me? Maybe staring was a lot ruder in America than I realized.
It suddenly registered that I may have inadvertently insulted this absurdly attractive girl who I had never met before. Should I go apologize to her? If I’m going to, I'd better hurry before she’s gone.
But before I could, she turned around and called out to me herself.
“By the way, I can tell your English isn’t very good. You’re wearing a shirt that says ‘Arsonist.’ You know, like someone who burns down buildings? Might want to rethink that one.”
…
Ehhh?
*
After hastily buttoning up my overshirt to cover up the extremely dangerous mistake I had made when selecting my clothes this morning, I entered the building and started looking for my locker, determined to move on from my previous encounter. So the most gorgeous girl in school hates me. So what? That doesn’t mean everyone else will.
…
Great, I couldn’t even convince myself. I mean, that had gone pretty poorly.
Even so, her last line was totally unnecessary. My English was great, thank you very much! How the hell was I supposed to know an obscure word like arsonist? And why would anyone make a shirt that says that? I got that it was made by a Japanese company, but still. Were they trying to get me arrested?
I’d gotten an email from the school board previously that contained such things as my class schedule and—crucially at this particular moment—the locker number that I was assigned. I had it memorized by now, so it wasn’t hard to find.
It hadn’t been hard to memorize either. Number 04. ‘Cause I absolutely need the extra bad luck right now.
I opened my locker and looked in. It was rather spacious, spanning all the way from the floor to above the top of my head. I bet you could fit a person in there.
I took off my street shoes and was about to put them away, but then I stopped. Hold on, I don’t have school shoes, so what am I supposed to do with these?
“Most of the time we wear our shoes, but if you want to leave ‘em in there I won’t stop you.”
“Uwaaa!”
I have got to stop letting myself get snuck up on like this.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The speaker rubbed the back of his head apologetically. His huge grin was comforting in a cheerful, friendly way, and it didn’t make him seem any less sincere about being sorry. That was a serious skill.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
He looked to be about the same age as me, though he stood a good ten centimeters above my height. He had dark skin and short bleached-blond hair that was black at the roots. He was wearing jeans and a striped T-shirt with a white hoodie over it.
Even his outfit was kind of reassuring to me, for some reason. Maybe because it was a similar level of casual to mine. Although his wasn’t accusing him of being a criminal.
“I-it’s fine. I didn’t say anything about my shoes out loud, did I?”
“No, but you were holding them in your hand and staring blankly into your locker, so I connected the dots. The name’s Richard, by the way. But you can call me Rich.”
“Um, I’m Haruto. Nice to meet you, Rich.” I started bowing, only to see a hand extended toward me instead. Oh yeah, Americans shake hands when they meet. Great remembering, idiot.
Rich chuckled. “Not used to the States yet, huh?”
He put an arm around my shoulder and bumped his knuckles against mine. So not a handshake. Got it. I tried to ignore the fact that there was a lot more physical contact going on here than I was used to.
“Well worry not, ‘cause I’m here to show you the ropes! Technically I came early to help get everything set up for the first day, but the student council president asked me to welcome you and help you get used to school life here in the Big Apple, so since you’re here, I figured I may as well introduce myself! Well, it’d be more accurate to say I volunteered, actually. I just love making new friends, na’ mean? Anyway, I’m here to help you with anything you need, so don’t hesitate to call, kay?”
“O-okay. Uh, thanks.” School life in the what now?
“No prob! You can go ahead and put your shoes back on. By the way, what are you doing here so early, anyways?”
“Early? What do you mean?” I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hadn’t got something wrong, had I? Surely I hadn’t forgotten what time classes start after reading over that email so many times…
“Just what I said. We don’t have first period on the first day of school, remember? You’re an hour early.”
Blood rushed to my head. An hour… so all that scrambling to make it on time… was for nothing? I felt myself begin to fall backwards. I tried to steady myself, but I didn’t have enough strength to stay balanced.
“Woah, are you okay, man? You look—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he was trying to say. My vision went dark, and I had just enough time to wonder how Rich thought I looked before I passed out.
*
I sat with my face in my arms at a desk in classroom 211, waiting for homeroom to start.
I can’t believe I actually fainted. Fortunately no one had been around to see when it happened, other than Rich, who was very understanding about the whole thing, but it was still humiliating.
I woke up a few seconds after I passed out and Rich made sure I was okay, then helped me go over my class schedule.
Rather than having a single class they were assigned to, American students selected a different class for each subject they wanted to take, like at university. I was at least somewhat familiar with which classes I’d chosen—I’d read over my schedule a few hundred times just to be sure—but unlike Rich I wasn’t used to the whole system in practice, nor did I know where all the classrooms were actually located. I was eternally grateful to him for all his help. My Tokimeki Memorial experience wasn’t gonna cut it here.
As Rich explained it, school was divided up into eight hour-long periods, the first and last of which were optional. Homeroom took place after the first period since that was the first hour that all students would be at school. It lasted ten to fifteen minutes and functioned mainly to start off the day and ease kids into their classes, as well as being a time for roll calls and announcements.
This was the reason we had no first-hour classes on the first day. That way all the students could go to their homerooms first and get an idea of what they would be doing before classwork started being thrust upon them.
My complete schedule looked like this:
1st period: ESL (English as a second language) — 8:00 - 8:55 a.m. Room 125.
Homeroom — 9:00 - 9:15 a.m. Room 211.
2nd period: Pre-calculus — 9:20 - 10:15 a.m. Room 306.
3rd period: US History — 10:20 - 11:15 a.m. Room 118.
4th period: Study Hall — 11:20 a.m. - 12:15 p.m. Room 422.
Lunch — 12:20 - 12:55 p.m. Cafeteria.
5th period: Physics — 1:00 - 1:55 p.m. Room 501.
6th period: PE (Physical Education) — 2:00 - 2:55 p.m. Gym 2.
7th period: Civics — 3:00 - 3:55 p.m. Room 130.
8th period: — None.
I had intended to choose only classes that wouldn’t lead to me standing out too much, which was difficult when I didn’t have an average schedule to compare to, but after talking to Rich it seemed to me that I had done a decent job.
The first digit of the classroom number indicated which floor the room was on, so evidently I would be running up and down a whole lot of stairs.
Just as the starting bell rang a woman walked into the room who I could only assume was my homeroom teacher.
She was tall, possibly even taller than Rich, but not particularly imposing. She gave off a cheery glow that was almost too positive. Her brown hair was styled in a short bob. She wore a button shirt and a pencil skirt that together made her look both professional and approachable, and complimented her lightly tanned skin as well as her long legs. She was definitely the kind of teacher that at least half the boys in class would have a crush on before the end of the year.
“Hello, class! My name is Miss Carmen, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher this year. I hope to get to know you all very well soon.”
I stood and bowed. “Hello, Miss Carmen!”
The room was quiet. Everyone else remained seated. I slowly sat down, covering my face with my hands again. Obviously we weren’t supposed to bow. I should have figured that much out by now at least. I really was pathetic.
If I was planning on totally embarrassing myself, I couldn’t be doing better. Seriously, I’d managed to piss off the school beauty, faint in the hall, and mess up in the first 10 seconds of homeroom. If this keeps up, I’ll end up accidentally burning down the school!
I flinched as I remembered the word that was currently pressed against my chest.
“Ah, well, ehem,” Miss Carmen cleared her throat. “As I was saying, since I’d like very much to get to know you all so I can support you through the school year, I’d like to take a moment to have everyone introduce themselves. We don’t have much time, so just your name, age, and one interesting thing about you will be enough for now. That way we can all have something to talk about! You’ll be making friends in no time, I’m sure of it!”
I wasn’t sure of it at all. And you’re saying I have to not only introduce myself, but also say something interesting? That’s setting the bar too high! I don’t think I’ve ever done something interesting in my entire life. Hold on, let me think… yeah no, I’m drawing a blank.
Starting from the front row, the students in class each took turns with their introductions, reciting them with a degree of confidence that made me wonder if they had memorized them in advance. Was this a scripted event that I was supposed to know about?
Rich introduced himself as Richard Carter, age seventeen, best friend to everyone in school. This was met with an amiable round of laughter, all but confirming that it was true.
One boy played the cello. A girl had won first place in multiple track events. Another shared the handle for her Instagram art account. I had to admire her shamelessness.
As everyone took their turns it struck me how different they all were. In Japan you could get in trouble at school for something as small as dying your hair brown, and everyone was Japanese, so they tended to be as uniform as their, well, uniforms. But in just this one homeroom class there were students of all different colors, heights, and builds, all wearing unique clothes and hairstyles (even if some were clearly more fashionable than others). Not to say all Japanese people were exactly the same, but compared to here…
What does it even mean to fit in in a place like this?
The next student to stand was someone I recognized. It was the girl I had met in front of the school, though she looked much more cheerful now that she didn’t have to gaze upon my offensive visage.
“My name is Emily Monson, and I’m seventeen. Nice to meet you all! And for something interesting about me… well, I’m pretty decent at oil painting, or at least my friends tell me I am. I’ll show you all sometime if you want!”
She flashed a smile at the whole class before taking her seat. All the other boys were whispering excitedly to each other, no doubt about how lucky they were to be in the same homeroom as her. But to me, something felt off.
She seems so… normal. Maybe I was imagining things when I met her before. Or, more likely, this is just what she acts like when she isn’t talking to me specifically. What could I have done that would make her want to treat me like this?
Once again the classroom fell silent. I looked around, trying to follow everyone’s gazes.
Shit, they’re looking at me!
Nothing in the room seemed to suggest a reason for this sudden change. Emily was just sitting down at her desk next to me, and—
She’s sitting next to me. That means it’s been my turn to introduce myself this whole time!
I instantly shot to my feet. It took all my concentration to resist the urge to start bowing again.
“M-my name is Higasaki Haru— er, Haruto Higasaki, and I am, uh, from Japan!”
I realized I had forgotten to say my age—one of only three things we were supposed to mention—after I sat back down.
Boy that was bad. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that she was right next to me! At least I said something, which is better than nothing.
I surveyed the room, trying to gauge the other students’ reactions. No one seemed to be giving me funny looks at least. No one, that is, except Emily Monson, who kept nodding pointedly at my desk.
Oh, she wants me to look at it, doesn’t she? I looked down to find a small piece of paper sitting folded in front of me. I looked at the red-haired girl. She mimed opening it, then rolled her eyes.
Okay, I get the message. I unfolded the note and read it carefully.
Meet me in room 333 after school. It’s usually abandoned by then.
And don’t bring anyone with you. Or else!
Is this from Emily?! I looked over at her. She shook her head violently up and down, indicating that yes, it was.
This is a dream, right? It’s totally a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. What could she even want from me, anyways? Nothing good I’d guess. This is bad. I’m not ready to die yet!
Maybe I should just ignore it. But then she might follow me home, and that’d be really bad. I may have to die, but my family shouldn’t have to watch!
Anyway, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little curious to know what she wants to say to me. Grh, there’s no right answer, is there?
The rest of the class introduced themselves, but I didn’t really listen at all. I was busy rereading Emily’s note over and over.
She could at least have given me a little clue about the reason she wanted to meet me. I had nothing to go on here! Why would any girl want to invite a boy to a remote classroom after school?
…Actually, never mind, I should not be asking that question.
That obviously wasn’t the situation here though. Me being in the picture completely obliterated the possibility.
So what then?!
Once introductions were over Miss Carmen made some basic announcements, then dismissed everyone to go to their classes. Students started standing and milling about, slowly working their way out of the room as they juggled the difficult tasks of talking to their friends and actually going anywhere.
After a few moments Emily stood dramatically and gave me one last intense look before stalking out of the classroom, head held high.
What is with that girl?
“Haruto?”
I raised my head to see Miss Carmen leaning over my desk. Most of the other students had left already, and the rest were talking in the corners, leaving me and the teacher isolated in the center of the room.
She was close enough that I could smell her perfume—spicy and sweet, like… apple cinnamon maybe? The angle she was standing at, combined with the looseness of her shirt… I averted my eyes, swallowing down any perverse thoughts that had come to my head.
“Yes, Miss Carmen?”
“I wanted to talk to you for a moment. Is it okay if I sit down?”
“P-please do.”
She took a seat at Emily’s desk, and the valley between her twin peaks that had me so distracted disappeared from my view. In this instance I was very glad to see it go.
“I know this all must be very overwhelming for you. Moving to a new place can be hard for anyone, and you’ve had to move all the way across the world, to a place where people speak a different language and have different customs than you’re used to. I don’t know all the details of your situation, but I know how difficult that is from personal experience.”
“Personal experience? What do you mean?”
“I’m not originally from New York either. I grew up in Cuba, which is where my parents lived their whole lives.”
Now that was a revelation. It made sense though, not everyone who lived in America would be born and raised here. Foreigners were just easier to spot in Japan.
“It was quite difficult for me to adjust to life here, so I can imagine what you’re probably going through right now. So, I just want you to know that I’m always here if you need me. Well, I’m usually in my office actually, but you know what I…”
Despite being a bit surprised to learn about her origins, I found it quite hard to stay focused on what she was saying. Aside from the obvious distraction of being singled out by an attractive woman, even if she was my teacher and probably a decade older than me, there was also the fact that she just kept talking, and much of what she was saying had no discernible meaning. Am I supposed to be saying something too? Now is the wrong time to realize that I have next to zero experience with English conversation.
Or conversation at all, honestly.
“…Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there’s someone in your corner if you ever need help.”
“O-oh! Um, thanks, Miss Carmen.”
“Any time. I hope you have a great first day of school!”
*
I did not have a great first day of school.
The reason for this was as simple as it was frustrating. Emily’s note. I was unable to get my mind off of it the whole day, and as a result I couldn’t focus on any of my classes, nor was I able to put forth any effort towards socializing and making friends. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop imagining increasingly horrifying possibilities for what Emily could want with me.
On top of that, I was still very much alone. I wanted to talk to Rich about the note since he had offered to give me advice, but the only class we had together was fourth period study hall, which Rich spent talking to what seemed like literally every student in class but me.
I knew Rich didn’t mean anything by it, and it would be unfair to demand all of his time, but it still accentuated just how by myself I was. Not that I needed reminding.
A few people did approach me in the halls to ask things like “What’s it like living in Japan?” and “Is authentic sushi really as great as they say?” but I couldn’t muster the courage to speak to them just yet. Friend-making would just have to wait until day two.
One thing I learned on my first day of school in New York—American students don’t eat in their classrooms. On the second floor, the school had a built-in cafeteria, just like they do in Western movies. It wasn’t quite as glamorous as High School Musical though.
It looked like the designer had gone out of their way to try to make the room look inviting, but had completely missed the mark. The vinyl flooring alternated in a pattern of white tiles and ugly, faded pinkish-brown ones. The strip lights on the ceiling were too far apart, leaving some parts of the room under-illuminated. The walls had vague inspirational quotes stenciled onto them, some of which were starting to peel off. The tables looked like they weren’t cleaned often enough. All in all, it couldn’t really be described as a comfortable space to be in.
It still felt strange to see so many students gathered together in the same room without any uniformity to what they were wearing. It looked like someone had taken a chunk of busy pedestrians from Shibuya Crossing and placed them all together in one small area.
On one side of the room there was a line forming next to a counter where food was presumably being served. It almost looked like a small restaurant inside the school. People in hairnets scurried around behind the counter, busily preparing and serving food.
From the middle of the line I saw a hand waving above the heads of the other students. Upon further inspection, the hand was attached to an arm. And the arm was attached to Rich.
“Hey, Haruto! Over here!”
Relief washed over me as I hurried over to where Rich was standing. Finally, I was worried I’d go the rest of the day without saying a word to anyone. Which wouldn’t be abnormal for me, but still.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you during study hall. There are just so many people to get to know, na’ mean?”
“It's okay. Isn’t study hall meant for studying, anyway?”
“A new school year means new faces,” Rich continued, ignoring my comment, “and I wanna memorize them all right away. But I did volunteer to help you, so don’t let me forget. If there’s anything at all that you need, I’m your man!”
The line suddenly shifted forward in front of him and he took a few steps forward, matching its pace. I shuffled along so I wouldn’t be left behind.
“Yeah, about that,” I said as Rich picked up a tray from the end of the counter, “I kinda got a note. I was hoping you could help me understand it?”
“A note, huh? Is it from a girl?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Get outta here!”
“…Oh, okay.”
I turned around dejectedly and started walking away. What did I do this time? Am I just that good at making people hate me? I really needed that advice too. Now what am I going to do?
“Hold on, man! It’s just an expression. It means, like, I can’t believe it and stuff.”
“It is?” So I didn’t do anything wrong at all! Thank goodness for that. “What is it that you can't believe?”
“That you’ve got a date already!”
“Wha— No, it’s not like that!”
I frantically explained the situation to Rich, waving the note in his face the whole time.
“Okay, calm down and let me see this note.”
Rich took the piece of paper from my hand, absentmindedly grabbing a slice of pizza from the counter.
“You planning on getting any lunch?”
“I brought my own.”
Rich looked over the note.
“Not a lot here, is there?”
“That’s my problem! I have no idea what she wants from me. And why does it say to come alone?”
“Hm, I dunno. I’d be careful around her, though.”
We got to the end of the line. Rich walked to a table and sat down, signaling for me to follow.
“Around Emily? Why?”
“I’ve known Emi since middle school. Trust me, she’s trouble. On the outside she looks like a normal girl. She spends a lot of time with her gal friends, shopping and doing other girl stuff, but when she’s home she locks herself in her room and won’t come out for hours. What’s more, if you get close you can hear weird noises from inside. Just between you and me, I think she’s trying to summon a demon!” He put his hands up by his ears, mimicking demon horns.
“That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?” I could imagine other things she could be doing in her room that might cause weird noises, but I decided not to bring it up.
“Maybe,” Rich grinned. “But either way, something’s not right with her.”
“So, you think I shouldn’t go?”
“And pass up a chance to meet a girl alone? No way! Swallow your fears, kid! In love it’s all or nothing!”
“Uh… oh.”
I didn’t really know what else to say. I was beginning to think that asking Rich for advice was a bad idea.
I untied the cloth around my bento and opened it up. The smell of warm rice wafted into the air around me.
“Woah, what’s that?”
“Um, my lunch?”
“That’s amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it! Let me try some! How about this?”
Rich reached over, scooping up a large dollop of wasabi with his finger. Why it was even there I didn’t know. My mom made weird lunches sometimes.
“Wait! That’s—”
Too late. Before I had a chance to stop him Rich stuck his finger in his mouth and closed his eyes.
“Hey, this is pretty good…”
His face got progressively redder as he spoke.
“I mean, it’s pretty… pretty… REALLY HOT!”
Rich bounced out of his seat, his eyes watering. He grabbed a carton of milk from another table, getting an indignant look from the girl he took it from. He downed it all in one gulp, but it didn’t seem to help. After a moment of spinning around wildly he ran off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.
And just like that, he’s gone. That’s what you get for taking my food!
I did feel sorry for him, though. And for myself—now I had even less of an idea of what I should do!
I guessed the best thing would be to take Rich’s advice and meet with Emily. I hoped that decision wouldn’t turn out to be a huge mistake.
Apple chapter break [https://i.imgur.com/plQ2Umy.png]
By the time school was over I was exhausted, both physically (from going up and down stairs between classes all day) and emotionally (for obvious reasons). I was standing in a dark, empty hallway in front of room 333, where Emily had told me to meet her. I held my breath.
It can’t be too bad, surely. If she really does try to kill me, I could just call the police! Or a teacher, they would get there faster, huh?
A middle-aged man wearing faded overalls wheeled a cart full of cleaning supplies past the room. His expression suggested that he’d rather be anywhere in the world right now other than this sad, empty hallway on the third floor of Atwater High School.
I can relate to that feeling.
I assumed this was the janitor, which American schools apparently had. Meaning at least I wouldn’t have to deal with cleaning duty after my classes for the day were over. Not that it mattered much—cleaning was by far the least of my worries right now.
Well, I’m going to have to go in eventually, aren’t I?
I stepped forward, reaching for the handle. Slowly turning it, I opened the door to my inevitable doom.
No one was there. The room was empty and devoid of life other than a small reddish spider hanging menacingly from the ceiling. It reminded me of a certain absent girl with hair of a similar color.
Why isn’t she here? Is she late? Is it possible that she set me up? Maybe weaving traps is something else she and that spider have in common. I sat down at a desk, setting my shoulder bag in front of me. I straightened my glasses nervously.
I have to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. She could just be late.
Even so, I couldn’t dodge the feeling that something weird was going on. What if the door opened and someone else was there? Could she have sent the police after me? I hadn’t done anything wrong, but my shirt certainly claimed otherwise. Would that be enough evidence to get me in trouble? I doubted it, but the only knowledge I had of the American court of law came from movies and video games, so as far as I knew it was possible.
Suddenly I heard the doorknob turning. I jumped up quickly, throwing my hands in the air.
“Wait, it’s a mistake! I haven’t burned down any schools, I promise!”
The door opened. Emily was on the other side.
I sat down again. I let out a sigh of relief, the puff of air practically visible in front of me. I sucked it right back in when I remembered that she might still want to kill me though.
She looked down the hallway in both directions, confirming that we were alone, then stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. She started to take a step forward, then halted and stayed standing by the door, looking awkwardly at her feet.
That expression… Was she nervous too? What could she want to say to me that would make her look like that? Especially after being so… bold earlier. Standing there all shy like that, she was actually pretty cute.
But hang on, didn't she hate me? I had been almost sure of it, but now I had no idea. WHY IS THIS GIRL SO HARD TO READ?!
We both stood stone still for what felt like forever.
She wasn’t expecting me to talk first, was she? You’re the one who invited me here, little miss perfect! Take some initiative! Oh, I guess she can’t take advice from my thoughts, can she?
Did this mean… I was going to have to say something? This is so unfair! I call foul play!
I guessed I could just wait for her to break. But what if she didn’t? She looked so vulnerable right now, what if she just gave up and ran away crying? Then I might never find out what she wanted to say. And I couldn’t bring myself to make a girl cry.
Okay then, I’ll talk. You’d better not get all uppity again just because you won.
“What—”
“Do you want to be my friend?”
Emily spoke quickly, not looking up from her boots. But wait, did she say…
“Ehh?!”
I had imagined hundreds of possible scenarios for our after-school meeting. This was not one of them.
“I, uh, I’m interested in getting to know you a little better, you know? I think it’s cool that you’re from Japan, and the way you were looking at the school this morning like it was the most interesting thing in the entire world was kinda cute. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Can’t tell anyone what?” That I looked cute? I could never. I would actually die of embarrassment.
“That we’re friends.”
“Oh, okay. Wait, not okay. Why not? How would that even work?”
“That’s… complicated.”
She looked up for a moment. Her hands fidgeted nervously.
“I— I can’t tell you now. Don’t get me wrong, I have a reason, it’s just…”
So she has some sort of a secret. That could explain why she’d been acting so weirdly, but it didn’t help me much if I didn’t know what her secret was.
But why did she want to be friends all of a sudden? Was this how making friends worked in America? No, it couldn’t be that easy. Maybe I should just ask her.
“Why do you even want to be friends?”
That’s not right, it sounds like I’m accusing her of something! I’m just genuinely curious, that’s all!
She looked like she was about to speak, but at that moment a noise came from outside. It sounded something like a humpback whale who had inhaled a houseful of helium. Emily froze, looking genuinely fearful. The noise came again, a little louder, and this time I realized it was a human voice.
“Emi!” it called, its unique timbre still just as reminiscent of a high-pitched version of a large aquatic mammal.
“Get down!”
The gorgeous redhead grabbed my shoulder and dragged me to the floor. She clamped a hand over my mouth before I could protest. Her hands were really soft, and a little cold. And they smelled like strawberries. It was kind of nice. I could feel my heart pounding.
…What on earth was going on?!
I looked up at the large glass window separating room 333 from the hall outside. Just as I did, a figure passed in front of it, peering into the classroom with intensity.
It was a girl, close in age to Emily and me from what I could tell, with shoulder-length light-brown hair and sharp violet eyes. She wore earrings shaped like little cat faces whose eyes were gemstones that matched the eye color of the girl wearing them, and she had multiple bracelets on one wrist.
Is she… the whale?
After a long moment she seemed to decide that “Emi” wasn’t here. The girl continued down the hall, passing out of sight. Emily let out a breath in relief.
Emily and I both stood up awkwardly. The enigma in the guise of a teenage girl who stood next to me looked even more wary than before. She opened her mouth to say something again, then hesitated.
“Look, just think about it, okay? Meet me here again tomorrow and you can tell me your answer. Same time.”
She opened the door, glancing back at me for just a second before exiting the room. Then she half ran down the hallway in the opposite direction the whale-sounding girl had gone. Once again, I was alone.
What in the world just happened? The cutest girl in school wanted to be my friend, but I couldn’t tell anyone? I didn’t know if this was much better or much worse than what I was expecting. Seriously, the mixed signals this girl gave off were next level. She should go pro.
The one thing that was obvious was that she had a secret, and she was trying very hard to keep it hidden. I knew that digging into girls’ secret lives was like willingly stepping on a landmine, but I couldn't stop myself from being curious. Was it something dangerous, like a connection to a major gang or something? That seemed unlikely. I mean, I’d seen anime like that, but…
And on top of all that, she wanted to be friends? With me? Why? And who was that whale girl? So many questions and not one answer. It was like some outside force was intentionally trying to raise a sense of mystery and tension.
And now she wants me to meet her again tomorrow. What am I going to say then? I couldn’t very well answer her question until I had a few answers of my own. And if she wasn’t going to tell me, I guessed I would just have to figure it out myself.
My name is Higasaki Haruto. On my first day of high school in New York City I made a friend, seemingly made an enemy, passed out, got some exercise on the stairs, received a note, became an arsonist (false), and discovered a secret.
And I’m going to find out what it is.
----------------------------------------
Translation notes:
Nii-san (paragraph 2) means older brother in Japanese, and is a form of address used when talking about your own older brother. The formal or polite form of the word is onii-san, but we can't expect that level of respect from Rika. (Nii-san is commonly used among close siblings).
Golden week (Paragraph 28) is a week at the end of April/start of May during which several Japanese holidays take place. It starts on April 29th with Showa Day and ends April May 5th with Children's day. Schools usually take this week off, and adults will often request time off from work to go on vacation.
A chabudai (paragraph 34) is a short table that you sit next to on cushions or tatami mats rather than elevated chairs. They are primarily used in traditional Japanese homes.
Kurosawa Akira (paragraph 36) was a prolific director of period dramas an samurai movies between 1943 and 1993. He is most well known for his film Seven Samurai (1954), which is widely considered to be his magnum opus. His works have inspired countless other stories, such as the original Star Wars drawing inspiration from The Hidden Fortress (1958). He is often listed as one of the greatest film directors of all time.
NEET (paragraph 47) is an abbreviation standing for "not in education, employment, or training." It was first used in the UK in the late 90s, but it has since seen use in other parts of the world, including Japan. It is often used to describe shut-in otaku, similar to—but not synonymous with—hikikomori.
A genkan (paragraph 75) is an entryway in Japanese homes where you are expected to take off and leave your shoes. It is considered rude to wear shoes inside in Japan, which causes some confusion for Haruto later on in this chapter. At school Japanese students typically exchange their regular shoes for special indoor shoes, which are kept in small lockers just inside the school's entrance.
Harajuku (paragraph 105) is a district in Tokyo known for its street fashion. Most of the population of Japan have black or dark brown hair, but in Harajuku you are likely to see people with hair dyed in all variety of natural and unnatural colors, along with modern, trendy clothing choices reflecting a variety of different aesthetics and lifestyles.
The number 4 (paragraph 125) can be pronounced "shi" in Japanese, which is the same as the Japanese word for death. As a result, it is a common superstition to consider it unlucky. Sometimes buildings will skip 4 when numbering levels or rooms as a way of avoiding this bad luck.
Na' mean? (paragraph 140) is a New York slang abbreviation of "know what I mean?"
Tokimeki Memorial (paragraph 151) is a series of classic Japanese visual novels and one of the first examples of a fully realized dating simulator. Some of the games in the series include a mechanic where you have to choose what to do within a set daily schedule, kind of like the school sections of Persona 5.
You probably are already familiar with bento (paragraph 281), which is a rectangular Japanese lunch box that is used by both students and professionals. Premade bento can also be purchased at any of the many convenience stores in Japan.
Japanese schools often include cleaning the classrooms as a part of students' responsibilities rather than hiring a dedicated Janitor. (paragraph 299) Haruto is relieved in this moment that America and Japan don't share that part of their culture.
(High School in the Big Apple is originally in English. Japanese words, cultural ideas, and media references in the series are explained in this section as if it were a light novel that was translated from Japanese. Paragraph locations may not be exactly accurate.)