Chapter 2

The girl stops playing. She takes her glasses off to wipe her eyes with the heels of her hands, and she notices me.

“Do you need something?” she says, then she freezes. “Are you in the school band? Sorry, I didn’t mean to play the piano. I just…I really needed to take out some frustration, you know?” She sniffs. “I’ll go.”

“No, don’t—“ I sucked on my lower lip. “I mean, I’m not in the brass band. I heard you playing and I wanted to listen, and see who was playing.”

“Oh. I see…” She sits and stares at the keys.

Silence washes over us, an intense awkwardness, until the first bell chimes from the speakers.

“I’ve gotta go!” she says, taking her shoulder bag and she rushes out. The only thing I notice on her is the third year pin on the lapel of her uniform. She vanished into the hall, disappearing into a mob of students rushing to homeroom.

I did the same, but went to 2-C, hunting down Kaito. He was familiar with almost everyone in the school, at least the girls.

He sits in the back of the classroom, talking with some of the other boys in his class.

“Kaito!” I hiss at him from the door, and gesture him over.

“What’s up?” he says when he slinks over. “Everything okay?”

“Do you know a girl, third grade, tall and wears glasses?”

He blinks. “You’re going to need to be way more specific.”

I suck on my lower lip, thinking over what I can grasp. “She has a ponytail.”

“That narrows it down to every other girl,” he says.

“She…she plays the piano — she was just playing it. Didn’t you hear?”

“Oh yeah! I figured that was one of the band kids. Maybe you should ask someone in the brass band?”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “She got really nervous when I came in, thinking I was about to chew her out for playing it without permission or something.”

The bell rings.

“Crap. I’ve got to go,” I say.

“I’ll ask around and tell you what I find out, okay?” Kaito says as he goes back to his seat.

I give him a thumbs up and head back to my own class.

The class was greeting Mr. Sasaki when I got to my seat. “Sorry, I was in the restroom,” I tell him.

When he finishes attendance and the morning announcements, Momoka leans back in her seat. Her hair is cut in a bob style with bangs parted over her mousy face. She’s wearing her white with green gym shirt, and the dark green uniform skirt. “Kaito said you ran off when he was trying to talk to you earlier — he was sitting at my desk again, wasn’t he — you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m…I’m fine,” I tell her, though I can’t get that third year girl out of my mind.

I can’t focus at all. All class, I’m thinking of her and that song she was playing. I haven’t felt this way since my crush on Ayami. The girl had this look about her, this artistic poise, the way she played the piano despite crying her eyes out.

That’s when dread starts to fill me — what if the same thing happens again? Another rejection, public humiliation in front of not only my class but probably the entire school, with her being in a higher grade and everything.

My stomach tightens. I feel like I'm going to puke.

During lunch after the fourth period, Kaito pops his head into the classroom. Me and Momoka have our desks pushed together as we eat, she with her curry and me with my oyakodon.

“Sota!” he hisses, in a mock of what I did earlier. “I learned something about your mystery girl!”

My heart jumps. Do I want to know more about her? Do I want to drop it and avoid all potential heartache?

Momoka turns to look at me. “Oooh, a mystery girl?” she snickers. She has a cocky smile where she bites down on her lip, looking like a dork.

I stammer, “I…She’s—“

“There was a girl playing the piano in the music room this morning,” Kaito tells her, squatting down beside my seat. “She’s a third year. Lover-Boy here is crushing on her.”

“No, I’m not!” I say. “I don’t even know her!” I realize my outburst and cover my mouth as other students in the class begin to look our way.

Momoka starts laughing, each burst like a crow’s call. Haw-haw-haw. It’d be obnoxious if if she wasn’t also one of my dearest friends. It could actually be really endearing at times. “Your face is so red!”

I cover my face with my hands, then drop to my desk. “Okay, so maybe it is a crush. A small one. What am I going to do?”

Kaito put an arm over my shoulders. “First, you’re going to listen to what I have to tell you.” He shoos Momoka away and leans in close and whispers, “Her name’s Yuina Koizumi, in 3-C. I saw her in the classroom when I was going to the vending machines.”

“And?” I ask.

“And that’s it. What, you wanted her whole life story?”

Momoka leans in. “I know a bit about Koizumi-senpai — don’t give me that look, Kaito, people across the school can hear you whisper. Anyway, she was absent a lot last year and no one really knows why. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. She’s in the kyudo club, though I’ve also heard she skips it a lot.”

“Wow, Momoka. You’re more useful than Kaito,” I say, smugly.

“I try,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kaito said, smirking. “So, why do you think she was playing the piano, then? I mean, if she’s in kyudo and all.”

I look down at my hands, fiddling with the rice in my lunchbox. “She was crying when I saw her, and she said something about needing to take out frustration.”

“Maybe she’s got something going on at home?” Kaito says. “Probably something connected to why she’s misses her club activities after school.” He stands straight, stretches. “Period’s almost over. I’ll let you know if I learn anything else.”

“Thanks,” I tell him as he leaves.

“Hey, it’s what I do.”

Momoka snickers again, making her face. “What a dork.” She turns back to me, just as I take a drink. “So. You like older women.”

She did that on purpose. I choke and manage to say after a coughing fit, “It’s only one year!”

“Right,” she says. “But my point being, you think you have a chance? I don’t mean to be harsh, but after She-Who-Won't-Be-Named, both me and Kaito don’t want to see you down like that again, you know?”

I glance at Ayami, sitting at the front corner of the classroom. She sits with two other girls, Rina and Haruka, the three of them were always — always — together, even in junior high school, as if the three of them were linked by some invisible chain. I’ve always imagined them reading my poem together, sharing a laugh.

I frown. “Yeah, you’re right. But what should I do?”

“Wish I knew,” she says with a shrug. “But maybe try talking to her instead of sending a creep like Kaito out to find out for you like some sort of mob boss.”

I fiddled with the last chunk of egg in my lunch. She was right, I knew she was. The fear of being turned down was a wall, though.

“Look, come to school early again tomorrow, see if she’s playing the piano, then compliment her. Easy peasy.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I tell her. Momoka is so headstrong, to a point where she comes off as bullheaded and ignorant. But she was right.

My hands start shaking at the thought of it. Going into the music room again, she sees me, she says, “Gross are you stalking me or something? You little pervert, get out of here.” Next thing I know, I’m labeled as a pervert creep throughout the entire school, other students being pulled out by their parents because they don’t want their kids being associated with a school harboring a disgusting pervert.

Momoka reaches over, pats my shoulder. “You’ll be okay. And if you need backup, you know where to find me.” She winks.