Chapter 1:
Ping-Pong in Our Uniforms
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F ROM THE MOMENT Adachi first suggested that we play ping-pong, a hot new fad was born—under the radar, of course, since we were skipping class. The school ping-pong equipment had been left to gather dust on the second floor of the gym, and because we couldn’t risk opening the window, the air was stuffy.
Along the edge of the loft overlooking the gym’s ground floor ran a green net, a relic from the days when this school had an official ping-pong club. The net’s purpose was to ensure that any stray balls remained within the bounds of the second floor. Normally, the two of us sat right against it and whiled away the time chatting in hushed tones. By this point, however, I was getting bored of talking, so I gratefully took Adachi up on the suggestion.
October was almost over, and we’d transitioned to our winter uniforms, though long sleeves were frankly the last thing I wanted to wear in this heat. Fortunately, the warm, sunny weather meant that gym classes were held outside on the athletic field, and that meant Adachi and I could have the gym to ourselves. Once we confirmed that we were alone in the building, we got to work setting up the ping-pong table.
“Were you in any clubs in junior high?” Adachi asked as she struggled to affix the net to the table. We’d been skipping class together for about a month or so, but I guess the topic of school clubs had never come up before.
“I was on the basketball team, actually. I was really passionate about it, too. I always stayed late to run drills.”
“Huh. I didn’t peg you as a basketball player,” she mused, probably because I didn’t seem all that tall compared to her. “Should we play that instead?”
“A noob like you wouldn’t be much of a challenge.” But I knew the offer wasn’t serious.
“Down, tiger!” she laughed.
Realistically, a basketball’s low thud made way too much noise; the teachers would be onto us in seconds flat. Plus, we were still in uniform. In a game that required lots of jumping, we’d both inevitably be distracted by the physics of our skirts. Ping-pong, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so strenuous. It was the perfect little game to play up here, away from the rest of the world.
Adachi and I were first-years in high school, and both of us were truant to an extent. We were by no means old friends or anything like that; on the contrary, we’d first met right there on that campus, and our friendship was relatively new. By this point, I knew a fair amount about her, but there was a lot I still didn’t know…probably because I didn’t need to know it.
When it came to her appearance, Adachi typically played it safe. Her hair was on the longer side, with a smattering of bleached streaks that didn’t draw too much attention. Her physique was slender, with few curves to speak of, and her shoulders were so slumped that I half-wondered if she even had shoulders. With her sharp eyes and thin lips, she had a classic case of “resting bitch face,” but actually she was pretty laid-back, or easygoing, or however you want to put it. No matter how angry she got, she never raised her voice…at least, not that I’d ever seen.
She often wore a bracelet on her left wrist—an oversized bangle, reminiscent of a single handcuff, that always looked as though it was trying to slip off.
In contrast to Adachi, my hair was visibly bleached to a tawny copper color, and I put more effort into my makeup. Girls like me got slapped with the “delinquent” label over one tiny little piercing, so naturally, the teachers preferred Adachi by a wide margin. Probably because she was a pretty girl who didn’t talk back.
Make no mistake, however—Adachi was easily three times the delinquent I was. One look at her attendance record would prove that. But what pissed me off was that, even if I were three times better than her, I would never be seen as a “good” student. Yet, somehow, she still managed to get the same grades as me. It was baffling .
Adachi pulled off her uniform jacket and tied it around her waist. Once we’d set the table up, I followed suit—partially because I didn’t want to rip my jacket, but mostly because the loft was sweltering. Next, I wiped off my makeup, since I knew all the sweating would just ruin it anyway. Then, cradling a mottled pink ping-pong ball in my palm, I picked up one of the old, probably moldy paddles with my free hand. When Adachi moved to do the same, I realized for the first time that she was left-handed.
“When was the last time you played?” I asked as we batted the ball back and forth.
“Umm…probably sixth grade, in Girl Scouts?”
Girl Scouts . Now that brought back memories.
“Oh man, Girl Scouts… Feels like forever ago.” I smiled to myself.
As a right-handed player, it was pretty easy for me to aim the ball at Adachi’s unguarded right side, so I went for it without the slightest hesitation. In response, Adachi positioned herself firmly dead-center and returned the ball with a skillful backhand drive.
“Whoa… You’re pretty good.”
“You think that’s good? Check this out.” As the ball bounced weakly toward her, she switched the paddle to her right hand and smashed it back in my direction.
“Holy crap!” My eyes widened. Naturally, the ball went flying past the table and bounced off the net behind me.
And so, we idled away the time playing ping-pong—casual games, for the most part, though we had our moments of intense competition. Meanwhile, the rest of the school sat through third period. What was third period on Mondays again? Math? History? I tried to remember, but most of my brainpower was focused on the game. Once again, something had gotten in the way of me caring about school. Story of my life.
To be clear, Adachi and I hadn’t randomly decided to start playing hooky together. We started out doing our own separate things—and, frankly, Adachi didn’t come to school that often to begin with.
In manga, you always see some kid skipping class up on the roof. But, in real life, no school is stupid enough to leave the roof open to students. Even if they did, what good would that be? If you tried to take a nap, you’d probably wake up with a gnarly sunburn. That’s why I always chose the gym loft—a quiet, remote part of the school, tucked away from sunlight and prying eyes. And, one day, Adachi made the same choice I did.
It was right at the start of second semester. When I walked in, Adachi was lounging with her shoes and socks off, probably due to the heat. She must’ve thought I was a teacher at first, because she bolted upright when she saw me, her cute little toes all splayed out. I remember it vividly to this day.
After that, we started hanging out more and more frequently. We didn’t schedule it, though. Every now and then, I’d get the feeling she was up in the loft, so I’d come by, and voil à, she’d be there.
But Adachi rarely stuck around until the end of the day, so after school, I’d usually hang out with my other two friends. Unlike me, however, those friends of mine were “good kids” through and through. Not only did they faithfully attend class, they copied down notes like it was their job.
Two good kids, two bad kids. On one hand, it felt nice and symmetrical, but on the other hand, it kinda seemed like I couldn’t pick a side… That was the sort of thing I idly contemplated as the ping-pong ball bounced leisurely back and forth.
Still, more than anything, I was comfortable. This was my peaceful escape from the misery of reality.