AAAAAAAAAAAA, that's how I feel

I went back to the arcade with Fujiwara over the weekend. We never did beat the level we'd gotten stuck on. Maybe there was a lack of synergy or maybe I was distracted. Stuck in my head with what he'd told me about Haruko and all. Was it seriously true?

Even if it were, I wasn't sure what it had to do with me. It's not like it was my problem what Haruko did or didn't do in junior high. Would it be messed up to flirt with guys to get them to worship you? Yeah, probably. Is that what she was doing back then? Was she doing it to me now?

God, I'm being paranoid. What kind of desperate person would flirt with random guys to get them to worship you? What kinds of desperate guys would that even work on? There's no chance anyone would have worshipped her in the first place. Hold on, flirting… What about that teacher? Ugh, my brain hurts.

There was too much I didn't know about to come to any satisfying conclusions. I could always plan another scouting mission… Then again, last time it took me most of the weekend to come up with something, and I ended up throwing that plan down the drain after a single day. So, what do I do?

I sank into my bed, limbs spread out like a starfish, feeling the weight of the situation as it physically pushed me deeper and deeper into my mattress. Maybe talking to Haruko would be too much trouble. I ought to stick to the path already paved for me. What was so appealing about this dumb, metaphorical path again? I guess it was easier. And Haruko was the one who'd lured me away from the safety of well-trodden ground. Safety and ease.

My mind began to slip away. I wonder, what's Haruko doing right now? Is she asleep yet? I don't know what time she goes to bed. I don't know what kind of stuff she does for fun either. What does she do for fun? All I've ever seen her do is run around like a maniac. I'd never bothered to ask about the disappearing scissors or those kids on the riverbank.

I didn't know anything about Haruko Arakawa. She was a total mystery. Why? Because I'd never bothered to ask.

That was the last thing that crossed my mind before I fell asleep, or maybe it was my takeaway from a dream. Either way, the next morning it had become painfully clear: I had to ask Haruko some questions. Most importantly, about Fujiwara's rumour.

That morning, I sat on my bed, with a little notebook on my lap and scribbled out the conversation that might unfold, occasionally graphing a rough flowchart when the specifics got murky. I was half-certain this wouldn't help with the conversation itself, but it certainly was helpful to calm my nerves.

What was I so nervous about? Well, there were a few things, like how unnaturally difficult it was to get a hold of Haruko. She ran out at the start of all our lunches. And while after school she would give me a little more leeway, I still had to run to catch up. That's how I confronted her on Friday, as much as I wished I hadn't. And it wasn't like I could call or text her to wait for me, she hadn't even given me her phone number.

That was the other thing. Haruko was what I might call a non-standard human being. Any other person and the exchange of phone numbers is fairly trivial. With Haruko however, you'd be lucky if you found yourself a moment to breathe during a conversation, let alone ask for her number. Okay, that was probably an exaggeration. There were probably a few opportunities to ask, but it probably just hadn't crossed my mind. Probably. Cut me some slack, alright?

Same as how it hadn't crossed my mind to ask Haruko anything else, either. That was definitely going to change though, definitely… But, how do you make that kind of change? It's weird to ask outright. So, maybe I've got to work my way up to it? First thing in the morning, I'll ask what types of food she likes. Hmm, too generic. Favourite season?

I kept my eyes peeled for Haruko on the usual route. Before class seemed like the best opportunity to get the question train rolling. I might leverage whatever nonsense she decided to throw at me to break the ice; I'm sure asking about modern-day sacrilegious practices would get her talking.

I bumped into Takamoto while wasting time near the shoe lockers. He chatted about his weekend and convinced me to follow him to class. I guess I could wait for Haruko there. I wasn't worried about her wasting time around school in the morning since I was fairly certain she came straight to class.

"You really like retro games, huh? Sorry, I couldn't go with you when you asked," Takamoto said.

I flopped my hand back and forth in the air. "It's fine, you're pretty busy so—"

Another classmate interrupted me to ask Takamoto about a homework question. He apologized and quickly went to help. All that was left for me to do was twiddle my thumbs until Haruko arrived.

That is, until the bell chimed and she still hadn't shown up. Oh well, I guess I'll have to catch her before she runs off, is what I was thinking but I guess Haruko had other plans. Class began and she still hadn't shown up.

Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Yamada, inched her way through roll call, and upon arriving at Haruko's name: "Ah yes, it seems Ms. Arakawa won't be coming in today, she's quite sick."

God, damn it. This would be so much easier if I had your stupid phone number.

I don't think descriptions can do justice to the hollow nature of a day without Haruko in class. Takamoto kept asking what was wrong with me through a bubbly haze in my brain; lunch was especially difficult.

"You…" Takamoto dragged his chair to the opposite side of my desk. "Forgot about the test today? No wait, you hit your head this morning! If that's the case, you should really see the nurse."

"She's a hottie," Fujiwara said, pushing Takamoto's desk next to mine. The screech of the metal legs against the floor brought me out of my mental stupor, if only briefly.

"I'm fine. If anything's wrong with me it'll be because of you two," I said.

"You could be sick. Arakawa's not in today because she's sick, could be something going around," Takamoto said, "and she sits right behind you. I hope I'm not sick."

Fujiwara gasps audibly. "This isn't because of her, is it?"

"What? No, no. I'm fine, seriously." I pushed a wad of rice into my mouth.

"How can you be so sure? You don't even know what she's sick with," Takamoto said.

Fujiwara eyed Takamoto and looked back to me as if to question whether he should continue. He did. "Look, I don't even know if it was true. Don't worry so much about it."

"If what was true? She's sick, isn't she?" Takamoto asked.

"I know, that's not what's wrong. I'm not worried about Arakawa," I said.

Takamoto frowned, glancing between me and Fujiwara. "Maybe you should be! What if she's really sick?"

"Hell, maybe Taka's right. Maybe you should be worried about her," Fujiwara said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm—What are you even trying to get at?" I asked.

"That Arakawa could have gotten you sick! All of us sick!" Takamoto declared with utter confidence.

Fujiwara ignored him. "You seem concerned about what I told you on Friday."

"I'm not concerned. I'm appreciative," I said, trying to sound genuine.

"Wait, Friday?" Takamoto looked at his hands, counting his fingers.

"All I'm saying is it's better to be careful than to let it bother you," Fujiwara grabbed his bento. "Looks to me like you're pretty bothered," he said, and then, walked out of the class.

Our little corner went silent and the rest of the classroom's noise slowly filled it in. Takamoto, watching Fujiwara's exit, took a bite from his sandwich. "What happened on Friday?"