In which Airi Needs New Shoes

By the time the teacher arrived, the classroom was empty. All that remained was a braid of long brown hair, coiled on the floor like a snake. It was still adorned with hairclips and ribbons and chopped off at one end.

While the teacher stood contemplating this bizarre sight, he heard footsteps retreating down the hall in a hurry. He poked his head out of the room—

Halfway down the hall, three girls huddled in a supply closet, stifling giggles as the teacher thumped past.

The tallest girl, Kazuko, slipped a pair of scissors into the pocket of her uniform. Bits of black hair were still stuck to the blade. She turned to the others with a wicked grin. “See, told you we wouldn’t get caught.”

“You’d better get rid of those scissors,” Airi said, frowning at Kazuko’s pocket. “The teachers will be suspicious, especially—” A new thought came to her. “Do you think that girl... whatshername... will tell the teachers that you cut her hair?”

“She’d better not,” Kazuko yawned. “She looks better with short hair anyways. We were practically doing her a favor, she looked so stupid with that braid.”

“Right.” Airi remembered the flower-shaped hairclips that the victim had decorated her hair with. And her screams for help. That was probably what had alerted the teacher. She kept silent while Kazuko pressed her eye to the gap between the doors.

“Where did everyone else go?” Kazuko asked.

“Probably the classroom down the hall.”

“Traitors. They left us in the dust,” Kazuko groaned. “Let’s go find them and get our revenge.”

“You’re squishing me!” complained the third girl, who Airi barely knew. She must be one of Kazuko’s followers, always trailing behind, hoping to be join in the laughter rather than be the butt of the joke. Both Airi and Kazuko ignored the girl.

“Anyways,” Kazuko said. She brushed her long hair out of her eyes and sighed, “How much longer do we have to be in here? Do you think the teacher’s gone?”

“I wouldn’t...” Airi started to say, but Kazuko was already pushing the closet door open.

“No one’s there. Come on, let’s go.”

At lunchtime, Airi found her usual spot at Kazuko’s table: six down from Kazuko, right at the end of the table. She probably could have jostled Kazuko’s fangirls for a seat closer to the middle, but she preferred it here, where she could block out some of the laughing and shrieking.

She dug into her rice and tried to focus on her plans for the day, occasionally smiling and nodding when the conversation called for it.

Eventually, the conversation turned to today’s victim. “You don’t even get it,” Kazuko said through laughter. “Her hair was so disgusting. It looked like it was covered in little bugs. I was practically doing her a favor.”

“Oh my god!”

“Did you hear—”

Airi stood. “Where are you going?” asked one of Kazuko’s followers.

“Bathroom,” she muttered. A few glances in her direction, but most people were watching Kazuko reenact the scene, miming a pair of scissors with her hand.

Inside the bathroom, the roar of the cafeteria died to a buzz. Airi made her way towards the mirror, but there was already a girl standing there, washing her face. Her brown hair hung in uneven hanks, as if it had been—

Airi’s blood chilled. What should she do, go back to her seat? Too late. In the mirror, the girl’s red-rimmed eyes widened with recognition, and she turned. Her hair looked a mess, and her face was a mess of tears, too. Airi swallowed and forced her legs to move. Since the girl didn’t seem to plan on speaking to her, she sidled past her to the next mirror. But she could feel the other girl’s eyes on her as she ran her hands under the faucet.

When Airi turned to leave, the girl still hadn’t moved. She was staring at her reflection. She reached up to touch the place where the braid used to be, gingerly, as if pressing a wound.

Airi spoke before she could stop herself. “It’s... not that bad. Really, it’s not that bad.” With every word, it became easier to speak. Airi felt herself echoing Kazuko’s words: “In fact, I think short hair suits—”

The girl gave her a withering, tearful glare.

“Well, you can still wear hairclips in short hair,” Airi protested, though the girl hadn’t said a word. Hairclips? What are you going on about the hairclips for? She cursed herself internally.

Finally, the other girl gave a shuddering breath and spoke: “You were with her; you could have stopped her.” Her eyes glared. “I hate Kazuko, and all of you. She won’t keep getting away with this.”

Airi’s pity vanished. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Kazuko and I are barely friends.”

The girl gave Airi a look of mixed loathing and pity and shut the bathroom door, leaving Airi feeling angry. And ridiculous. What did that girl know, to be looking at Airi as if she were the fool? At least Airi wasn’t getting bullied every day. At least Airi knew better than to grow her hair long and prance around in front of Kazuko. No, Airi knew how to survive.

When Airi returned to the table, Kazuko’s eyes cut to her. “Oh, hi, Airi. Had a nice trip?” she teased. Instantly, all of her friends turned to look at Airi, too.

“It... was nice, until I ran into Bughead,” Airi said quickly.

Gasps and knowing smiles. “So, what’d you say to her?” Kazuko asked.

“I complimented her on her new haircut,” Airi lied. “And I asked her who the new hairdresser was.”

At this, there was a roar of laughter. “I’ll gladly give you the same cut for free,” Kazuko said, smirking.

“No thanks.” Airi forced a smile and sat down.

After school, Airi found the group loitering in a hallway. Kazuko, scrolling through her phone, said, “Where should we go?”

“Let’s get sodas at the convenience store!” someone suggested.

“Yes!”

“Come on!”

Two girls pulled on Airi’s arms. “You’re getting left behind!”

Airi waved them away. “Go ahead. I have to talk to someone after class.”

“Ooh, is it a boy?” Kazuko asked, stopping in her tracks. “Who is he? What year is he in?” Her friends leaned in a little closer.

Airi smiled tightly. “No, nothing like that. I’m just asking a question about the homework.”

“Such a good student,” Kazuko laughed. Her friends looked disappointed. “Well, bring us the answers tomorrow, so we can compare.”

“Sure.”

Airi found the student she was looking for in the fourth classroom down the hall: a tall boy, surrounded by his friends. They were in the middle of a conversation punctuated by raucous laughter when she approached, smiling shyly.

“Can I talk to you in private?” she asked him.

He looked surprised, then pleased. “Who, me?”

“Yes.” She added, “In private,” in case he hadn’t heard the first time.

Laughing and patting him on the back, the boy’s friends filed out of the classroom, leaving them alone. Once Airi was sure that they were properly alone, she leaned in.

“I know you cheated on the exam last Friday.”

The boy’s face changed in an instant. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I saw you do it. I’m sorry, but I have to tell the teacher. You know the rules.”

“Where’s your evidence?” the boy demanded. Predictable.

“It’s on my phone. I have a photo,” Airi said. This was a bold-faced lie. If the boy actually looked at the recent photos in her camera roll, he’d only see photos of the strawberry drinks she’d bought with Kazuko and her friends, and a few photos of the orange cat who sometimes visited her backyard.

“Let me see.”

“Why should I? You’ll just delete the photo,” Airi said.

“Listen, please don’t tell the teacher,” said the boy. “It was a one-time thing. I completely forgot to study for this one. I’ll study hard for the next one.”

Airi looked him coldly in the eye. “Now you sound like you’re talking to a teacher. You’d better save your explanation for Mr. Ishimura.”

“You don’t understand; I’m on the sports team. I’ll get in big trouble if they find out. I might even get kicked off the team! Please—”

“I’m sorry, but words won’t convince me.” Airi watched the message sink in. She turned to leave.

“No, wait, wait, wait...” The boy hesitated while Airi watched him. He fished around in his pocket and came up with a few coins. “Here. Is this enough? Please don’t tell the teacher.”

Airi counted the coins in her head. “Is my integrity worth so little?”

“I don’t have any more on me.”

“Okay. Well, I have math class with Mr. Ishimura first thing tomorrow. Guess I’ll—”

“Wait!” The boy dug around some more, angrily. “Give me a second.”

When Airi had first entered this school, she’d been dismayed at the quantity of students who cheated on their exams. Now, she thought of her rapidly increasing stash of money at home and had to suppress a smile.

The house was dark when Airi got home. At the front door, she took off her shoes, wincing at the water that dripped out of them, and took off her wet socks, too, for good measure. She followed the sound of voices to the living room, where the TV was blaring in front of the couch. Tonight, it was showing some kind of game show, with puffs of confetti that rained down on the contestants.

“Dad,” Airi said softly.

Was he asleep?

“Dad,” Airi said, louder. “Dad!”

There was a grunt, and Dad shifted on the couch, so that Airi could see his eyes. “What is it? Do you need something?”

“My shoes are getting old.” Airi held them up to show him. “See, there’s a hole here, and here. Here, too. And it’s so rainy lately, the water just goes straight inside.”

Dad squinted at the shoes for a moment.

“Looks fine to me. You can get a new pair next school year.”

Airi braced herself for a fight. “Dad, it’s been, like, two years since I got new shoes. My feet are almost too big for these. Just think, if I get a new pair now, then I can wear them for the next—”

“I said no.” Dad was already turning back to the TV. Somebody had won a prize; an announcer hollered and a bell rang, summoning more confetti. The lucky contestant jumped up and down like a puppet on strings.

“Please, Dad.” The words tasted sour in Airi’s mouth. She hated to beg, but she would have to ask for new shoes eventually, if not now. “The store down the street is having a sale. They won’t cost—”

“No.”

Airi waited for Dad to say more, but he didn’t, so she said, “Why not?”

“You don’t need new shoes. And we need the money for other things.”

Dad didn’t need to say what he needed the money for. The room already reeked of alcohol, this early in the evening.

Airi sucked in a breath. She shouldn’t be getting angry, but the unfairness of the whole situation overwhelmed her. In her head, she wanted to say: “I don’t get it. It’s only a pair of shoes! Maybe if you cared a little more about your daughter and drank a little less—” But it wouldn’t do her any good to say any of that.

Instead, she threw the worn old shoes against the wall, where they clattered to the floor. An advertisement was playing on the TV now; Dad’s eyes never left the screen.

Airi said quietly, “I bet Mom would—”

“Don’t!” Dad’s eyes flashed, and he was suddenly facing her. In a choked whisper, he said, “How can you even bring her up like that? Are you completely heartless?”

A million thoughts went through Airi’s head in a rainbow-colored fog of rage. No. Well, maybe I am. Only because of you. She said nothing. Nothing she said would do her any good, anyways.

Airi could feel Dad’s piercing gaze following her until she slunk out of sight into the safety of her room. Once inside, she flopped onto the bed and looked at the photograph on her nightstand. There was Dad and Airi and Mom, all grinning under a large umbrella. That was before Mom had grown too weak to stand, before illness turned her clammy and gaunt and unsmiling.

Airi closed her eyes and went to sleep.

When she awoke, the bluish light from her window dragged long shadows across the floor. She crept to her desk and turned on the lamp, which unfortunately illuminated the pile of homework she had yet to complete. She’d have to complete it later; Kazuko would be expecting the answers.

Next, she looked in the mirror, twisting and turning. Her skirt had a hole in it. With a sigh, she retrieved the sewing kit from her desk and began mending the hole carefully.

When she was done, the skirt looked good as new. You could only see the stitches from up close. Hopefully, no one at school would notice.

Finally, she slipped the coins and cash from her backpack into her spare pillow. It was nearly full to bursting at this point. Every time she hugged it, its gentle clinking reminded her that one day she would be free as a bird, living on her own. You want me gone so bad, Dad? Fine. Once I’ve saved enough money, once I’m old enough, you’ll never see me again. Then you can be happy and grieve Mom in peace. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

The silence in the house seemed to answer her question. Yet, throughout her dinner of cup noodles, throughout all of her homework exercises, Airi kept one eye on the door. Maybe she was a fool, but part of her hoped, unreasonably, that Dad would come in and... what? Apologize? He never did, though, and the evening darkened to a black, starless night.