WE’D finished our tour for the day, the three of us trekking back to the classroom, when the door of the homeroom next to ours slid open with a bang. Out dashed a random boy, his bag swinging wildly from his shoulder.
“Eek!” squeaked Kitazawa as the bag slammed into her with considerable force.
“My bad!” grunted the boy hastily, and without a second glance, he barreled off with a stack of papers in hand.
“Hey!” I yelled after him.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Rubbing her shoulder, Kitazawa smiled at me.
“Yeah, but he should’ve at least given you a proper apology,” Honomi huffed indignantly.
Kitazawa’s next sentence took us both by surprise: “Maybe he really needed to go to the bathroom?”
I gaped at her. “Huh?”
“It’s bad to hold it in, right?” she posited, her eyes wide, innocent.
“The…bathroom?” I repeated. The word hung in the air, absurd and unexpected.
I looked at Honomi, and she looked at me, and then we both burst into laughter. We were helpless before Kitazawa; just what was her deal? She was so tiny—well, not that her height was relevant whatsoever—and had been so mortified to wear a different school uniform, was so quick to blush, so meek, so harmless. And yet she busted out ballet moves like no big deal after dropping dance like a bad habit; and when bumped into by a random boy, she spouted equally random excuses to forgive him.
Seriously? The bathroom? That was the best she could come up with? We all knew he was in a hurry to turn in his schoolwork so he could go home faster, and her naive cover-up was too strange, too endearing to ignore. She truly was a weirdo—a weirdo I wanted to talk with more, know more about.
“Did I say something funny?” she asked, her eyes round with confusion.
“Nope, not at all. I mean, yeah, but also no.”
“I…huh?” A delightful shade of red crept up her cheeks as Honomi and I continued to cackle. Oh man, where has this girl been my whole life?
“She’s not so bad, is she, Honomi?”
“She really isn’t, Mao.”
“Wh-What are you two talking about?”
Even her fluster was cute, precious. The rest of the journey back to our desks, where we picked up our bags, was jolly indeed.
“Wanna walk home together, Kitazawa?” I asked.
“Yeah…yeah, sure!” she said, her eyes lighting up.
We’d only just met, yet I couldn’t help but feel that my second year of middle school was going to be a treat.
✦ ✦ ✦
“HEY Sakai, so what’s Towada like?”
“What’s this? Has my dear Kagami finally awakened to love? Who knew you had a girly side to you after al—hey, okay, stop, stop, I was just kidding.” Shielding his head with his arms, he immediately backed down when I clenched my fist in a playful threat. Sakai had always liked his exaggerated reactions; I suspected he still had a soft spot for Power Rangers or other overdramatic hero-type stuff. Some things never changed.
“No, I getcha. You’re asking for Kitazaw—I mean, Haruka, right?” he babbled.
“Get her first name outta your mouth. It’s gross. Also, shh! What if she heard that!” I glanced toward the landing where we’d left her.
I wasn’t usually one to pry about my friend’s friends, but I wanted to help her. All I knew about Towada was that he’d transferred in the previous year after living in Tokyo. The mysterious guy’s name was the first mention of a male to come out of Haruka’s mouth since her own transfer, shy as she was. And as her friend, I had a duty to ensure she was falling in with good company.
“Towada’s a good dude,” Sakai said. “Doesn’t talk a whole lot, though.”
“Yeah, I knew that already—he’s your vice president, of course he’s a good dude.”
“Hey, your words, not mine.”
“Is there anything else?”
Sakai sank into silent contemplation. In thought, he looked oddly mature—grown-up, almost. I’d been noticing that about him a lot lately. I used to tower over him, and to be at the same eye level felt weird.
“Well, just don’t worry about it—she’ll be all right,” he concluded.
“And your proof is?” I asked, and he merely ruffled my hair. “Hey!”
“Haruka is your friend. Towada is mine. What’s wrong with our friends becoming friends?”
“Seriously, how come you’re calling Haruka by her first name?” I snapped.
“Oh, I see. So you’re upset you’re being left out, Mao?”
“Ew, gross, I don’t wanna hear you say that ever again!”
Laughing, he sprinted away, and I chased after him as we’d always done, both of us oblivious to our two friends exiting the school gates.