“THE biscuits? The ones you bought yesterday? No, I didn’t touch them—must’ve been your brother.”
Upon returning from her errand, Mom quickly denied any involvement with the missing biscuits. Thus, after dinner, I sequestered myself in the kitchen to bake. Those biscuits had been the last of my snack stash, and with them gone I was left with no choice but to make my own.
My brother also claimed innocence when I asked him. I didn’t want to believe him, frankly, but I could hardly accuse him without proof.
Pulling the freshly baked cookies out of the oven, I set them on a cooling rack. Tiny, gleaming flower-, star-, and bird-shaped cookies crowded the mesh, their surfaces nice and glossy from the egg wash I’d applied. They had come out looking particularly good that evening, which lifted my spirits.
Slapping my brother’s hand away, I plated three cookies and sealed the rest in a container, hiding them toward the back of a shelf. I brought the plate upstairs with me and placed it on my desk.
The door to my room was equipped with a way to lock it from the inside—a simple chain that allowed the door to open only a sliver when engaged. The lock wasn’t robust by any means; it gave a fair amount with a proper tug and could undoubtedly be easily forced open. Mom had installed it for the sake of my privacy because my brother and kindergarten-age cousins tended to barge in without knocking when I was changing. It never saw much use, but that night it would.
After confirming that my trash can was not empty, I switched off the lights and climbed into bed. I considered staying awake but, more tired than I realized, soon drifted into a deep slumber. Right before I faded to unconsciousness, the faintest rustle tickled my ears, yet my eyelids were too heavy to look for the source.
My alarm roused me the next morning. I checked the door—the chain was still in place. But my trash can was vacant, and the cookies on my desk? Not a single crumb remained.
✦ ✦ ✦
WHEN I arrived at school, I immediately beelined for class 5. How was I going to get his attention? Wait, wait, wait, I thought as I screeched to a halt. What am I even doing here? I’ve never stepped foot in another class before!
I snapped out of whatever trance had ensnared me, ready to beat a hasty retreat, but it was too late—someone from his class had noticed me. Panicking internally, I hastily divulged my reason for being there and positioned myself near the doorway to wait for them to fetch Towada. Penetrating stares from within the classroom pierced me like daggers. I knew it. This was a mistake. Why had I not taken time to think? Why had I barged in so impulsively? Finally, after what felt like the longest ten seconds of my existence, Towada approached, apparently unperturbed by my presence. Sorry, now they’re staring at you too!
“Kitazawa? It looks better.”
“My cheek? Yeah, it’s all good,” I replied. “Um, sorry about this.”
“It’s fine. Did you need something?”
My heart was hammering wildly in my chest. I could feel heat radiating from my gauze-less cheeks. I glanced up at Towada. He seemed confused.
No, I reminded myself, I’ve come this far. A girl needs to be brave, right, Honomi, Mao? Despite the prying eyes, I had to persist—just pretend they weren’t there. Nope, can’t do it! Still can’t look him in the eye either!
“Um, remember when you asked me if unusual things were happening like snacks going missing and stuff? Well, yesterday when I got home—”
He cut me off. “Are you free after school today?” His hands gripped my wrists. Startled, I looked up at him again, and our eyes met. His expression was serious—desperate, almost. “Wait for me by the entrance after school,” he pressed.
I nodded mechanically, like a puppet. “S-Sure. After class, yeah? Got it.” My gaze fell to his hands still holding my wrists. He noticed and quickly let go.
“Oh, sorry—”
“Okay, bye!” I interjected, spinning around and darting away.
“Who was that, Towada? Your girlfriend?”
“This freaking guy…”
As I hurriedly retreated, the jesting voices of his classmates whirled in my wake. I was mortified. I’m so sorry, Towada, I really am! I really didn’t mean to put you in an awkward situation…but it’s too late for apologies, isn’t it?
Upon reaching class 1, I was immediately accosted by Honomi and Mao.
“What’s wrong, Haruka?” Mao asked.
“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” added Honomi.
I slumped into my desk, burying my face in my arms while they patted my back and gently prodded me for an explanation. I could tell from their tone that they were genuinely worried about me. Unable to bring myself to tell them about the disappearing snacks, I instead relayed the incident of the near miss with the tennis ball.
“I just wanted to check in with him after what happened yesterday, but everyone was staring at us…” I finished.
“I see,” Mao said thoughtfully. “So that’s what all the fuss was about yesterday. If I’d known it was you, I would’ve come over straight away. We really can’t take our eyes off you even for a second, huh?” She flashed a wry smile, patting my head.
Honomi peered at my cheek with concern. “That must’ve been scary, having the ball fly right past your face. Does it still hurt?”
“No, I’m fine now,” I assured them.
“But you went all the way to his class just to thank him? And you still say you’re not into him?”
“I-I told you it’s not like that!”
“Come on, you can tell me!” Despite my denial, the mischievous glint in lovestruck Honomi’s eyes didn’t diminish in the slightest.
“Ope, teacher’s here,” Mao warned.
“Haruka, we’re having a heart-to-heart later!” Honomi decreed.
“About what, huh?” I whined.
For the first time in my life, I was thankful for the teacher’s arrival. As we all scrambled to our seats, I found myself studying my wrists where Towada’s hands, the hands of a man who was not my father or brother, had held them. My fingers brushed over the spot where he’d touched me. His hands were big, rougher than I expected. Given that he was a tennis player, I supposed, he would naturally have calloused hands. I’d heard blisters could develop just from gripping the racket.
Suddenly, I felt eyes on me. Glancing up, I found Honomi gazing at me. I attempted a weak smile, but she seemed to be fixated on something else. My face… It was still red, wasn’t it?
Hold on a second.
Why on earth did I think to go to his class in the first place? Couldn’t I have simply emailed Ayako and arranged to meet at his house?
Utterly exasperated with myself, I buried my face in my arms once more.