Green hair is not it.
Maine pursed her lips over the tube, shooting another spitball into the centre of the new girl’s head. She leaned into her arm with a weary smirk, appreciating how her countless other attempts clustered around the same spot on the girl’s green scalp. However, the girl seemed unfazed, continuing to jot things down in her book.
Hmm…
Maine crumpled another tiny piece of paper.
“Must be bored as hell,” Min whispered from next to her, looking up from her workbook with a dry look.
“Damn right I am, girl.” Maine loaded the tube as she yawned. “I’ll save prep for tomorrow.”
“Ah.” Min looked around, hunching in on herself as she glanced at her phone’s lock screen. “Twenty…”
“Ugh.” Maine took another shot.
“Rebecca just said she can’t come to cheer,” Min said, tapping away at her phone.
“Still sick?” Maine shot again. “Feels bad.”
“Hmm.”
“You going to”—Maine stretched and grunted—”uh, what’s her fa—sorry, Brooke’s BBQ?” She shot another.
“You?”
“Roast chicken, roast beef…” Maine sung quietly with a small jiggle, knocking the table with a nod. “I’ll ask if I can bring Jacque.” She shot another.
“Hmm, yeah.” Min’s head rested on the table as she swiped on her phone. “Forgot which way positive exponential whatever is shaped like…”
Maine sniffed, ripping off some more paper from the corners of her book.
“Isn’t that a lot?” Iona asked from Maine’s other side, leaning over while applying lip gloss.
“Eh.” Maine shot again. “Emos ask for it—I mean, come on…” She shot again.
“An alright collage…” Iona held up her phone and checked her hair, eyeing the bunch of white blobs on the new girl’s head. “Said you sucked at art.”
“I do.” Maine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Suck a lemon, Iona.” She shot another.
“You suck some d—”
The new girl shot to her feet, gathering the eyes of some of the working students. The teacher glanced up from his laptop but looked back as the girl kneeled to pick up a pen.
Maine placed her tube down and looked back at her book. She flipped back and forth through the pages.
Don’t tell me I have to draw another graph…
“Hello,” a voice whispered from above her.
Maine looked up, her brown eyes meeting the dark, serious eyes of the new girl. She put on a wry smile, internally cringing at the girl’s dark eyeliner.
“Need anything?”
“30 spitballs.” The girl clicked the pen in her hand.
Maine blinked, glancing at her equally blank-faced friends. “Huh?”
“Ever since I got here…” The girl kept fiddling with her pen, her grip tightening. “30 spitballs.”
“White on green go well together, girl,” Maine said, noticing the less noticeable purple strands at the front of the girl’s long bangs. “Purple too? Wow.”
The girl frowned. “Yeah. I like them.”
“You go, girl.” Maine smirked, picking up on the quiet snickers from other students who were quickly put to silence by the teacher looking up. “I’m making you a standout. That’s something you won’t be able to get by yourself.”
“Standout? That’s freakin’ horrible then…” She grimaced.
“I’m doing you a favor,” Maine said, keeping her voice low. “I know you’re an emo and all, but—”
“Hmm, I am—”
“—you need to brighten up a bit more and stop trying to do so much with yourself—”
“Ah… Ah, yeah,” the new girl stammered. “I can’t let you get away…”
“And what are you gonna do exactly?” Maine leaned in, her smirk widening. “You’re not at a level where you can start sizing up to me, you hear me, emo?”
The new girl frowned more and clicked her pen some more. “I actually am.”
“Huh? How—”
“Meet me behind the school after classes.” The new girl clenched her fists. “I can’t wait to show you that I’m serious.”
Maine looked at Min and Iona incredulously, her friends looking away with concealed smiles.
“Ok, so—lemme make this clear.” Maine coughed into her elbow and cleared her throat. “Sorry—So, you… want to have a go at muah?” She squinted. “That’s what I’m getting?”
“Yes.” The new girl smiled and kept her whisper lower. “You said you weren’t too good at art, so maybe you’re just insecure—”
“Ex-cuse me—”
“—and I can help give you something to reflect on.”
“First day and you’re already making enemies—”
“I’ve done well in not doing that—”
“—that could ruin your college life—yes you are.”
“Nope. That’s”—the girl shook her head—”not what I’m about—”
“Uh, Miss Gwenn,” the teacher called out.
“Oh—uh, yes, sir?” The girl straightened and looked at the teacher.
“Hope I didn’t interrupt your conversation—”
“Oh no, I just finished—”
“—so I—ah, alright, good.” The teacher wore a worried look. “Can I chat with you for a second?”
“Sure.”
“I won’t take up too much of your time.” The teacher stood, walking to the door.
“Back of the school if that’s fine with you,” the new girl said. “See you, Maine—thank you.”
She left the room with the teacher, the door shutting. Laughs and conversation came to life all over the room.
Maine tutted. “What a stuck-up goth. Who does she think she is?”
“What does ‘back of the school’ even mean?” Min asked, holding her phone up and tapping away.
“No clue.” Maine waved her hand around. “Back of the school, people! I might have a fight!”
The class gossiped some more and cheers even arose.
“How are you gonna fit that in with cheer?” Iona asked, applying blush onto her cheeks.
“Won’t take long to embarrass her.” Maine sipped on her water bottle. “She’s smart. Wants my attention so bad. It’s not even a bad idea, like”—she scoffed—”can’t even blame her for having the guts to spit that out.”
“Outta here with that,” Maine said, fanning her face. She tried to speak over the surrounding crowd’s chatter. “Mr. Macklain held me back a bit for the girl’s, er, hair situation—”
“Again, dunno what you expected,” Iona said with a smirk.
Maine shrugged. “It’s harmless. Not like I dyed her hair green—now that would be criminal.”
She looked around at the crowd, students waving their phones around to record and eager eyes trying to budge in to see what all the commotion was about. But there was not a single green strand in sight.
She listened in on the chatter.
“How do girls even fight—”
“Gonna put this on my story—”
“Who’s this new girl—”
“The car park area is the back of the school, right?” Maine folded her arms and sighed. “Did she chicken out?”
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“Cheer starts in ten…” Min bit at a granola bar as she looked at her phone. “She better come before then.”
“I say we just leave early and leave a bunch of people disappointed,” Iona said, laughing.
“Honestly.”
“What’s going on?” a tall boy asked with a clueless smile, spinning a basketball on his finger.
“Jacque!” Maine’s expression flipped on its head as she went on her tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, leaving a mark. “When’s practice for you?”
“Like, five minutes or so!” Jacque returned the kiss. “Gonna join up with the boys soon, but”—he looked around while fist-bumping Min and Iona—”what’s all the fuss?”
“New girl wants to fight me or something—”
“Really—”
“—but don’t worry, it’s nothing major!”
“Ah, ok, ok!” Jacque increased the speed of the ball's spin. “Let’s stop by Maccy’s on the walk home!”
“Bulking season starting early, huh?” Maine said with a rosy smile, twirling her blonde hair.
“Always—and we gotta try the new release!” Jacque chucked his ball up and caught it. “Heard from the boys that it will blow—”
The crowd’s gossip rose as heads turned.
“Is that her—”
“Why is she dressed up like that—”
“Start recording—”
Maine flicked her hair and folded her arms, her smile falling into a frown.
Right. Game fa—huh?
“Sorry, I’m late!” The girl dashed towards the crowd in what looked like a ninja outfit, with all sorts of bags and cases strapped around her. “Changing took too long, and—oh, damn, you got quite the crowd—ok, you’re serious”—she puffed—”about this—good, good!”
Maine sneered, looking off to the side and analyzing the disoriented expressions on everyone’s faces.
“So…” Maine put her hands on her hips. “You gave the invitation. How are we gonna settle this? What do you want, emo?”
“Oh, right!” The girl unzipped a long, black case with a wide smile. “Mai, have you—”
“Huh? Mai?”
“—heard of fukiya?”
“Wha—Why did you just call me Mai—”
“Hmm—”
“—as if we’re friendly or something—”
“We’re not friendly? But—”
“We ain’t, girl—”
“—you call me by a nickname as well, y’know—”
“And you’re proud of being called emo?” Maine furrowed her brows, nodding at the giggles from the crowd.
The girl blinked. “Yeah. Of course I’m prou—it’s my name. Imogen. But I always prefer Imo. So…”
“Wha—”
“Thank you for being so understanding—wait, bare with me, I’ll clean this out for you!” Imo started cleaning down a long bamboo pipe she pulled out as she left Maine dazed.
Iona smirked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You forgot her name?”
“I—”
“It’s a pretty nice name—gotta admit.” Iona pumped a fist. “Woo. ‘I’ names for the win.”
“Thank you very much!” Imo cleaned the inside and outside of the tube with a cloth, her hands moving with masterful efficiency. “It’s either that or, like, Imogwenn—y’know, mixing my first and last name—”
“I—yuck, stick to Imo! Easier to remember!” Maine tutted, recollecting herself. “Look, I guess I just made a lucky guess on your name—what gibberish did you say to—”
“Fukiya—”
“—me and what are you clean—what’s even going on here?”
“Fukiya—”
“Saying that a bunch ain’t helping anything, e—goth—”
“E-goth? Pft, please, I’d never stoop so low—”
Maine groaned.
“—in such an identity!” Imo stood, shoving the pipe towards her. “I don’t wanna waste your time because you got cheerleading practice I’m sure—”
Maine pushed it away. “Hurry it up—”
“—so I want to—no, take—”
“Get that away from me—”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the CNM—Contemporary Ninja Movement, right?”
The crowd murmured at the word, the term ‘cosplay’ being thrown around and snided at. A few people even started leaving. Maine huffed, shoving the pipe away.
“Ye—”
“Well, I’m the head of one of the clans—the mouth area is clean—I’m the head of one of the clans stationed here in CNM Michigan, and—”
“I do not care—”
“—my clan specializes in the fukiya—whole thing’s rather niche—and performance anxiety is completely—”
“Huh?”
“—fine, Mai! I got the absolute sweats—”
“Performance anxiety—”
“—when I tried it out the first time—please, I’ll get the target—I wanna see something!”
Maine’s face flushed as she read the lost looks. “Look, stop waffling for a sec—damn!”
“My bad—I meant it when I said I didn’t want to let you get away!” She pulled a target out of her bag, similar to one used for darts, however stylistically different.
“I do not want to get involved with your weirdo fetish—”
“Fetish? No—”
“—and foo-whatever—look—”
“At least give it a try—”
“—I’m not interested in no ninja—actually, ninjas are fine if this were old as hell Japan—”
“The CNM is an international thing to bring the culture back—”
“You’re just some wannabes—”
“—and also bring it in a positive and encouraging light!”
“And I don’t wanna be part of your LARPing!” Maine waved her off. “Buzz off, goth! You’re wasting everyone’s time!”
“You say that, but”—Imo whipped out her phone—”you spent a lot of time spitballing the freakin’ back of my head—”
“So what—”
“—and that made me pretty damn happy because—”
“Big deal, wh—what the fu—”
“—the average game of fukiya includes 30 dart shots—”
“Wait, dial—dial the hell back—”
“—and you shot—sorry, I’ll be quick—you shot 30 spitballs and—I actually got someone to help take this photo—”
“Wha…” Maine looked at the photo, her face pale as she studied the image of the back of her head covered with the spitballs. Her eyes narrowed.
“Notice how you managed to get them in a very neat cluster—didn’t miss too—like, what, you’re a natural!” Imo pointed at the bamboo tube. “The name of the sport is the name of this object, fukiya! Great breathing control is a must—a must in this, and you clearly have it!”
Maine blinked. “Uh—”
“No mouthpiece and larger frame are, yes, differences—but, other than that, I’d say the transition is seamless—give it a try—a single try at this target—please, then you can quickly head off to cheer practice and say that I wasted your time if need be—please, I sanitized it good—trust!”
Silence.
“Obviously, it’s hard to count points if you use my head, even if I don’t really mind—it’s actually best for you to start from something harmless before”—she shoved the pipe towards her—”moving onto the real thing!”
Silence.
“Aw, hell nah! This girl on some freak energy!” someone blurted out.
Most of the crowd started to disperse, people shaking their heads and throwing their arms up in a surrendering fashion. The ones who stayed wished to record the scene even further than their scrunched-up faces implied or were just Maine’s two close friends and her boyfriend.
Maine felt a vessel burst as she honed in on the words of the departing people, letting the words of Imo bounce off her.
“Guess there’s no fight—”
“Man, I don’t get cosplayers—”
“Maine was getting mad overwhelmed—”
Screw this…
Maine turned to Min, who tapped at the time of her phone with an unamused look.
Less than 5 minutes…
“One shot?” Maine asked with a huff, ruffling her hair.
Imo grinned. “Yep—but, uh, I—”
“Great—”
“—hope less people around helps ease the nerves!”
Maine pursed her lips, giving Imo a long, hard tight-lipped smile as she took the fukiya.
“Ooo, she’s actually gonna try,” Iona said, pulling out her phone.
“Have to,” Maine grumbled, inspecting the fukiya. “How do I hold it?”
“Gotcha! Left hand flat—wait.” Imo jogged over and held Maine’s arms, guiding her hands despite the cheerleader flinching and frowning. “Flat left hand just about—yep, near what I like to call the muzzle area! Then you sorta pinch near the mouth region with your righ—there we go! There’s usually a whole bowing procedure before you shoot, but”—she shuffled to her bag and held up the target—”let’s gloss over that for now for your convenience!”
“And there’s an actual dart in—”
“Yep!”
“—here and you’re just gonna stand there—”
“I’ll be fine—”
“—without some sort of guard—”
“I’m a clan head! I’m a professional—”
“If roleplaying is a profession then”—she held up the pipe with a scoff—”the grass must be freakin’ blue.”
“Now, now, with all that stress, you’re gonna mess up your breathing!” Imo inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Patience is another key skill—”
“You’re making me lose it—”
“Just saying…” Imo pointed at the bullseye. “Don’t get too overambitious—humble yourself in the fact that most beginners pretty much just miss the whole target entirely!”
Maine flared her nostrils.
“And anger”—Imo inhaled and exhaled again—”is simply not useful—not a single bit.”
Why the hell am I doing this?
“Just a short burst of air—tightly seal your lips!” Imo whistled. “Similar to how you’d spitball! Same mindset!”
I just wanna go to cheer at this point. But…
She glanced at Jacque, who had been watching the whole thing with silent surprise. However, when they locked eyes, he grinned at her and mouthed a ‘Good luck’ and cheered quietly as if he were watching a football game.
I ain’t gonna be shown up…
Her frown rose to a wide smile. She cleared her throat, fighting off the fluttering in her heart, and took a deep breath. She pulled the fukiya to her lips and aimed it at the target.
If I was shooting spitballs… I would’ve thought the target was her…
She breathed in, steadying herself.
This ain’t no joke anymore…
As she breathed out—force leaving her mouth—she shot.