“The dame’s rockets by the river are particularly beautiful this time of year.”
“Really? Wow. Good to know.”
“I’d love to show the both of you sometime.” Shiratama-san ate the last of her anmitsu then politely put her hands together and thanked us for the treat.
Meanwhile, I sorted through my growing mental notes on her. She’d picked up sewing from her sister. She liked sweet treats. Didn’t do well with crowds. Most recently had gotten into early morning walks. In summary: She was cute. Very cute. I made sure to write that in red ink.
She turned her eyes up at me again. “I’m so sorry for rambling. I can be so annoying sometimes.”
“Not at all. I’m glad one of us is a conversationalist.”
“Only because you make it so easy.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. Now she was just doing it on purpose.
“Nukumizu-kun,” Yanami cut in. “The cream in your zenzai is melting.” Oh. Right. Forgot she was here. Her second bowl of ramen, ordered in place of dessert, already lay empty. She chugged her water, then noisily set the glass back down. “You sure you don’t wanna wash all that down with some ramen, Shiratama-chan? We’ve got gomoko gohan too, if you prefer rice.”
“I’m okay, thank you. I should be going. I have to be ready to answer a phone call from my teacher by a certain time every day.”
Another thing I’d forgotten. She was suspended.
Shiratama-san stood, took her tray, lightly bowed, and then made her way to the counter to drop off her dishes. Before being stopped by staff because she went to the wrong counter.
Once she was gone, I said, “Well, that’s a relief. She’s not so bad. What did you think, Yanami-san?”
She stopped glaring at the bottom of her bowl and started glaring at me. “I think you two sure talked a lot.”
“That’s kind of why we came here. To get to know her. Would it kill you to be nice?”
“All I know is I sure learned a lot about what your type is, apparently.” She thrust her ramen fork at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, Einstein. Ugh. Men. It’s always the young ones.”
For crying out loud, she was one year younger. Was Yanami seriously that petty?
I scooted my cup of red bean soup over to her. “Haven’t touched it. Want it?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I’d recently read in a book that when bringing a new dog home, one had to be mindful of the old one. Advice that would translate well to my current situation. Somehow, I could already smell the trouble brewing.
I downed the rest of my water.
✦ ✦ ✦
Yanami and I left the mall. It was getting dark out.
“Look, all I’m saying is you can’t seriously be that easy.”
“Implying that’s even what this is about. You sure you aren’t just being jealous for no reason?”
Two large bowls of ramen plus half of mine plus a cup of zenzai did not equal a happy Yanami. Shocking given just how many calories that was.
She checked her wristwatch, then sped up, paying zero mind to my own pace. “She’s suspended for a reason. I’m telling you, there’s a catch to Little Miss Cutesy.”
“And I’m telling you it’s probably complicated. Seriously, how can a girl like her possibly do any wrong? Did you see her?”
Yanami gave me a look. “Not as well as you, apparently.”
Oops. Right. Mindful of the old dog. I cleared my throat. “Let’s put judging her aside. If you were suspended, I’d have your back.”
“The difference is I wouldn’t be!”
Hm. I had my doubts. Frankly, I’d been wondering for a while when she’d finally snap.
Suddenly, Yanami tugged my sleeve. “Hey. Girl in that car. Is that…?”
“Huh?”
I looked just in time to see the passenger door fly open on a parked car. It was Shiratama-san. It looked like she was arguing with the driver. About what, I couldn’t say. Whatever it was, it seemed we’d caught the nasty tail end of it.
Shiratama-san stormed off, and a man in a suit hopped out of the driver’s seat next. What was strange was I swore I recognized that oddly age-ambiguous face of his.
“Oh my god, isn’t that Tanaka-sensei?”
“What? The Japanese teacher?”
I squinted at him. Those rounded shoulders. The frazzled vibes. That was Tanaka-sensei all right. He’d mingled with the lit club on occasion, even passing along a flyer full of writing-related events to me one time. The question was, what was Shiratama-san doing in his car?
He followed her for a few steps but clearly got told off, because he didn’t make it far before trudging back. He drove off shortly after.
“The heck was that about?” Yanami said, breaking the stunned silence.
“Maybe he’s her homeroom teacher?”
“He’s 2-F.”
Tanaka-sensei was a stand-up guy. Serious about teaching, good at it, and he genuinely cared about his students. And, apparently, he and Shiratama-san were entangled in a…spat of sorts.
“Told ya,” Yanami chirped. “Always a catch.”
I wanted to argue but couldn’t. So I just grinned like an idiot.