When his mother looked askance at the Komuras, he always wanted to tell her how good they were, and how nice they had been to him, but somehow the words caught in his throat until they dissolved away into nothing. That he couldn’t stand up for them made him feel like he was somehow betraying Katchan and his parents. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to contradict his mother on this point. Maybe because he saw the logic in what she was saying. Wataru didn’t know much about people who went to bars, but judging from Katchan’s comments they weren’t the same class of people that, say, worked at his father’s company. Once he had asked Katchan if he wanted to take over his family’s business when he grew up, and he shook his head, and muttered something about doing some research at a university, or maybe becoming a lawyer. Regardless, the long and the short of the situation was that relations weren’t exactly great between the Mitani and Komura households. That much was painfully clear.
Katchan had probably called to see if Wataru really could make it out of the house that night. The only phone in their house was out in the living room, so it was impossible to sneak a call. Wataru felt suddenly guilty.
What if I’m the “wrong sort of people” too?
He sat with his chin in his hands, his elbows propped up on the desk, staring blankly at the chart of class periods he had stuck on the wall above. The first hour tomorrow was Japanese class. They would probably have to write another essay. Katchan was particularly bad at writing, and he was always asking Wataru for help. Of course, if Wataru stood him up tonight, he probably wouldn’t bother him tomorrow at all. He’d be too angry.
“Of course he won’t be, silly.”
The voice was high and sweet—a girl’s voice, coming from right behind him.
Every muscle in Wataru’s body tensed. He jumped out of his chair, the four casters creaking loudly beneath him. He whirled around. There was no one in his tiny room. He glanced down at his television, a fourteen-inch his parents had bought him after much wheedling and begging last summer. It was turned off.
He looked around some more, then looked back at the desk and sat down. He must have dozed off while he was looking at his class chart. He remembered a scientist on television once saying that the dreams you have when you doze off unexpectedly could be very vivid. Sometimes, so vivid they are impossible to separate from reality.
Then the voice spoke again.
“You will be able to leave tonight. Rest up while you can.”
Wataru scanned the room. Everything seemed to be in its right place: the bed with its blue-checked comforter, his bookcase filled with reference books and comic books, and his video game console next to the television set. The carpet was depressed where the casters on his chair had sunk in, and the slippers he had been wearing were tossed haphazardly on the floor behind his desk.
There was no one else in the room. Wataru was alone.
“You can’t find me by looking, you know.” The girl’s voice rang in his head. “Not yet.”
His heart raced. He felt his blood pumping. He imagined his heart throbbing like Pac-Man, gobbling his way through his maze.
“Wh-who’s there?” Wataru stammered. Here he was in his familiar room with its familiar, slightly dusty smell, talking to no one. His voice sounded like a whisper. This was ridiculous. It was stupid to hear voices in his head, and even stupider to try to talk to them. Still, it felt less embarrassing somehow if he talked really quietly.
“Who could it be, I wonder?” the voice said mischievously. “Never mind that now, you should go to bed. If you’re going out to play tonight, you’ll need your rest. You’ll be late for school tomorrow!”
Several possible courses of action occurred to Wataru in an instant. He chose the most childlsh of them all. He ran out of the room.
“Wataru? Is something the matter?” Kuniko looked up from where she sat peeling an apple at the kitchen table. “Want a slice? Here, have one, brush your teeth, and then it’s bedtime.”
Wataru suddenly felt weak. He leaned back against the wall.
“My, you don’t look well at all,” Kuniko said, putting down the knife, then she tilted her head to one side and looked at him closely. “That reminds me, you had a cough this morning, didn’t you? Have you caught a cold?”
Wataru didn’t answer, so his mother stood up and walked over to him. The skin of her hand was cold and soft on his forehead.
“You don’t seem to have a fever…have you been sweating? Do you feel ill?”
Coming to his senses at last, Wataru muttered something about it being a fine and good night. Still floating, he went back into his room, shut the door and leaned against it. He heard the sound of knocking.
“Wataru? What is it? Are you sure you’re okay? Wataru!”
“I-I’m fine, Mom. I feel fine,” Wataru said, slowly regaining his composure. Thinking of a way to explain what was happening to his mother made him feel even more lost and confused. Finally, the knocking stopped. He moved away from the door and flopped down on his bed. His breathing was shallow, his pulse was racing, and his eyes spun in his head.
“You poor thing,” the girl’s voice said. “I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Wataru slapped both hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. He willed his mind to go blank, to slip into unconsciousness. And, though he hadn’t imagined he would be capable, he fell asleep. When he woke it felt like he was leaping out of darkness. The alarm clock next to his bed said it was ten minutes to midnight. Wataru shot up in bed, wide awake. He had been sweating when he fell asleep in his clothes, and now they felt itchy and cold.
Quietly, he opened the door to his room, and peered out into the kitchen. The television was on, tuned to some late-night news program his mother often watched. But tonight, she was asleep, her arms sprawled on the kitchen table, lightly snoring.
Katchan was first to arrive at the meeting place, the entrance to a park just south of the haunted building. Katchan always tended to be early, probably a habit he picked up from helping out at the bar.
“S-sorry, I’m l-late,” Wataru said, panting to catch his breath. Normally a little running wouldn’t make him breathe this hard, but he was still excited by the events of the evening.
“Your mom sounded pretty fierce on the phone. I’m surprised you made it out.” Katchan jumped up onto the park’s chain link fence and swung from it like a monkey.
“Sorry.”
“No biggie. Your mom is always like that to me.”
His friend said it like he really didn’t care, but it made Wataru a little sad to realize Katchan had noticed his mother’s judgmental attitude.
“Did she fall asleep or something? Hey, doesn’t she wait up for your father to get home? How did you get out?”
Wataru realized again how odd it had been for his mother to fall asleep.
He glanced back in the direction of his apartment.
“She…she fell asleep.”
“She sick or something?”
Wataru silently shook his head. Several questions rose in his throat, but none of them made the least bit of sense, so he swallowed them down like a bitter pill. Katchan, have you ever had everything go black, and pass out, but you didn’t fall asleep? Have you ever heard someone talking to you when no one was there? Is that strange? Would it be stranger if it were a girl talking? And has your mother or father ever fallen asleep sprawled on the kitchen table like that? Sleep so deep you could push them and pull them and they wouldn’t budge? Or shout in their ear and they wouldn’t wake up? It was almost like a mage from one of his fantasy games had cast a sleeping spell on her. He was afraid.
“Whatever, you made it. Let’s get going!” Katchan sprang from the top of the fence. With those words, all of Wataru’s questions went swirling away. He nodded and ran.