How do you even write love letters?
I was in class the next day, struggling with my very first love letter, which I was drafting on a sheet of lined paper tucked under my notebook, feeling totally uninspired.
Dear Shuji Kataoka,
I apologize for writing you out of the blue.
You must have been very surprised.
My name is Chia Takeda, and I started my first year at Seijoh Academy this spring.
My name means “lots of love.”
I saw you shooting with the archery team after school, and I thought you were great. I developed feelings for you.
Hmm… That sounds really formal.
Dear Shuji,
Hi! This is my first letter like this EVER!
My name’s Chia Takeda, first-year class two, seat number twelve. I’m a Cancer, and my blood type is B.
Some of my friends call me Chee.
I know this is really sudden, but I love you!
Oh gosh, I’m so embarrassed!
I’m actually embarrassed to read this. And it makes her sound so stupid.
Blushing, I wrote letter after letter.
Why was I even doing this?
Tohko had kept mouthing off: “Your writing needs more sex appeal, so this is a great opportunity. I want you to learn from it. Put yourself inside little Chia’s mind and write the syrupy, unpracticed confession of a love-struck girl. The world is still bright and shining, and you’re just so happy! Something like that. Something that will impress the boy she gives it to and make him think, ‘Whoa, she’s so adorable,’ and ‘What an angelic heart to be so loved by.’ ”
Unbelievable. Tohko should have just written it herself.
“I focus on the eating,” she would have said, giggling without a hint of shame.
A DNA helix was drawn on the blackboard, and the white-haired biology teacher was droning on about chromosomes, heritability, and whatever else as if reciting a liturgy.
Seijoh Academy was a serious school that students had to test into, so everyone was feverishly taking notes, contributing the scratching of pencils on paper to the teacher’s recitation. Still, there were a couple kids playing with their cell phones under their desks, too.
I bet no one else is composing love letters, though. After all, love letters are passé; it’s all about text messaging now.
Freshly reminded of the fact that I was writing love letters in class, color seeped across my face until it was totally red.
But these aren’t my love letters. They’re for Takeda. It’s Takeda saying she likes Shuji, not me, and… wait, who am I justifying this to?
Besides, Tohko told me to do it. She said I should try putting myself inside Takeda’s mind when I write.
I remembered Takeda’s face as she joyously described the boy she liked to us, her cheeks flushed.
“I like this boy named Shuji Kataoka. He’s a third-year student on the archery team! I was checking out a bunch of different clubs right after I started here, and then I saw Shuji practicing with the archery team. He drew his bow back so far, it was amazing, and then his face got this super-serious look, and he turned toward the target. The air felt as tense as the bow—and me, too. My eyes were glued on him. I stopped in my tracks and held my breath, seriously.
“Actually, I’d been feeling kind of down before that.
“But as soon as I saw Shuji looking at the target, that all disappeared from my mind, and when his arrow twangggged into the bull’s-eye, I felt like it had shot into my heart, too.
“And then Shuji got this gentle look on his face, and he grinned just like a little kid. It was the most amazing smile of all the smiles I’ve ever seen! That’s when I got my crush on him.
“I’m awful at sports, so I didn’t join the archery team, but I went sometimes to their practice to watch Shuji. I heard the other members call him Kataoka and Shu and stuff, so that’s how I found out his name. Shuji is usually a really cheerful guy, which he doesn’t look like at all, and he jokes around constantly and makes everyone laugh.
“But when he’s shooting an arrow, he gets superserious. Even though he might have been joking and laughing right before that, he gets this almost scary tension on his face, and it’s only when he’s drawing a bow… But then if he misses the target, he’ll make a joke about it, and if he hits it, he shouts and celebrates it like a little kid, cheering and jumping around.
“I started wondering what Shuji thinks about when he’s shooting arrows and then my mind just gradually filled up with him, and I wanted to know more about him, and I wanted him to know about me, too.”
Takeda had gone on long enough to rival Tohko whenever she expounded on the fine points of a book. Her plump cheeks tinged pink, her eyes flashing vivaciously, she talked us deaf about Shuji and looked truly overjoyed doing it.
So, you know. At the very least, I had to convey just how much Takeda liked Shuji. If Takeda was rejected because of my letter, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself…
I flipped to a fresh sheet of paper and began writing out Takeda’s feelings, line by line.
I want you to know about me, Shuji.
And I want to know lots more about you.
So I decided to be brave and write you a letter.
“Here you go.”
After classes ended for the day, I handed Takeda her letter.
“I threw this together during lunch. I didn’t bother with a draft, so I can’t guarantee it’s any good…”
“Oh my gosh, thank you!”
Takeda bounced happily and accepted it.
“Oh wow, three whole pages? You wrote all this at lunch? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—you are the book club’s top writer!”
“Uh, it’s not that great…”
“Can I read it?” She giggled.
She started to unfold the paper and I rushed to stop her. “Ack! No! You can’t read it here!”
“Aw, why not? I want to see it, too. You put your heart into writing that letter!”
Tohko smiled teasingly and tried to steal a peek at the letter over Takeda’s shoulder.
I cut in between them. “No! Absolutely not!”
“Umm, I guess I’ll go then. I need to hurry home and rewrite the letter. I have a stationery set all ready and everything! It’s light pink with cherry petals falling across it. It’s superadorable.”
“Good idea.”
I waved Takeda off in a haze.
“Bye! Good luck!”
“Thank you guys so much!”
“Don’t forget your report!”
“I won’t!” Takeda replied cheerily and waved to us, the letter clutched in her hand.
Halfway out, she toppled over, but she got right back up again and left, laughing in embarrassment. I watched her go, my heart pounding.
“Man, I really wanted to read that love letter, Konoha! You spent three whole days on it!”
I glanced over at Tohko, who sat on the fold-up chair hugging her knees, her bright eyes crinkling, and my ears burned with embarrassment. This was bad—she’d seen right through me.
I responded with deliberate sarcasm. “No way. If I gave it to you, you’d want to taste it and end up eating the whole thing.”
Tohko stuck out her lip. “Come on, I’m not that crazy for food.”
Then she laid her cheek on her knees and got a dreamy expression on her face. Her long, thin braids spilled over her frail shoulders like two cats’ tails.
“A love letter would have been great, though. They must be all sweet and tickly and taste like happiness. Konoha, what do you think the most delicious story in the world is?”
“I dunno.”
Tohko smiled. “I think it’s a love letter the person you like poured his or her heart into writing for you. I mean, that would be the only copy in the world, a precious treasure that was just for you.”
Her face turned sweetly shy as soon as she said that.
“Oh, but then it would be way too precious to ever eat. Wow, I don’t know what I would do. How could you have the best food in the world right in front of you and not be able to eat it?”
She touched a finger to her temple and looked seriously conflicted. I thought it was so funny, I burst out laughing.
“Oh, you know you would eat it! I’ll bet you the collected works of Natsume Soseki you wouldn’t have the letter a full night before the whole thing was in your belly.”
“That’s so mean! Really awful! You really are the one with no delicacy!” Tohko whined, spinning around in her chair to turn her back on me. She didn’t forgive me until after I’d written her snack for her.
“I’ll show you! I’m gonna write your name down a million times, then I’m gonna tear it up into tiny pieces and gobble up every single one. Then you’ll be cursed!”
“Geez, you are so immature, Tohko.”