To be fair, you wouldn’t normally notice the smell of someone’s shampoo unless you were uncomfortably close to them…or you were paying a lot of attention…or you had some sentimental attachment to the scent itself. But as much as I would have liked to stand up for my friend, I wasn’t brave enough to say anything to Miki-san directly, so instead I said it to Zuka. Maybe this way he’d stop putting her in a bad mood all the time.
That Friday, Miki-san was standing in the hall, chatting with a group of friends.
“Ugh, you never want to hang out with us anymore! Did you find yourself a boy toy or what?”
“Ha ha!”
As we walked past them, I turned to Zuka. “Is there something different about Miki-san lately?”
“Heck if I know. She’s so psycho, she probably expects me to read her mind to find out what new fad she’s gotten into.”
He and Miki-san were both on the same track team during junior high, and as such, he didn’t bother mincing words.
“That’d be ridiculous, even for her,” I said. “Maybe she got a new perfume or something.”
“Come to think of it, I noticed she really smells like some kind of shampoo lately. But even so, why bother telling us about it, y’know?”
An exclamation mark must have appeared over my head, because I had no idea he’d actually noticed the shampoo smell. But Zuka interpreted my surprise a bit differently.
“Relax! I’m not the kind of weirdo who goes around sniffing girls!”
The words felt like a bullet to the heart.
“I just noticed it when she walked by, that’s all. Actually…now that I think about it, it smelled like that stuff we used to have in the locker room showers back in junior high. Remember? Bilien?”
I did, in fact, remember. Only the cool kids were brave enough to wear something with such an overpowering scent.
“Man, I regret ever using that crap. Just ’cuz my face is on the girly side, people started thinking I was actually a girl. Anyway, I’m not saying it smells bad or anything, and I get why she might wanna take a walk down memory lane, but…why does she keep hassling me? She’s nuts, man.”
Granted, he had a point. Surely no normal person would walk up to their platonic male friends and expect them to notice their shampoo. But this confirmed for me two things: one, that I had no idea what else could possibly be different about her, and two, she had indeed changed her shampoo. Nothing about the situation had been resolved. I didn’t even know what a successful resolution would look like at this point.
And so I wasted my time feeling sick to my stomach as the final weekend before midterms rolled around at last.
Monday: the first day of midterms week. Everyone was struggling to a certain degree, and I myself was definitely supposed to be doing my best not to fail, but Miki-san still smelled like Bilien, and first period was my worst subject (biology), so suffice to say I wasn’t off to the greatest start. After second period, I was ready to drop. Naturally, this prompted Zuka to check on me again.
“I mean, I guess I’m hanging in there? Anybody would be ready to pass out if they had to take a test in their two worst subjects back-to-back.”
“For sure, man. And the next one’s math, so you and me are totally boned. Oh, and Mickey, too.”
As Miki-san walked past, Zuka dragged her unceremoniously into the conversation. I expected her to lash out at him with some sort of punctuation over her head, but instead, she blinked at him and smirked. Then she walked over to her other friends.
“Hey, Looney!”
As a side note, “Looney” wasn’t actually the girl’s name—it was a nickname, short for “lunatic.” And since Miki-san apparently had no qualms giving someone this nickname, maybe she had a few screws loose herself, like Zuka always said. Personally, I felt it was proof that she was unique and creative, but evidently, I wasn’t the only one attracted to that side of her… This train of thought was not going to help me do well on my math test.
Before the bell could ring, the teacher walked in, and we all returned to our desks. Only one was empty: the one directly beside me. Idly, I wondered what Miyazato-san’s grades were like. If she got held back a year, wouldn’t that only make it harder for her to come back to school? Was she going to drop out? What sort of future would she have then? To me, she was just the girl who used to sit next to me, and yet my chest ached for her. Okay, maybe she was more than that, but still.
The blank test papers passed from student to student, making their way down the rows of desks. And right as I was about to lose myself in thought, as if waiting for the opportune moment to startle me, the bell rang.
Not long after, I discovered why Miki-san had smirked at us. A few minutes into the math test, when the room was peppered with question marks and ellipses fading in and out, I was surprised to see her head dotted with exclamation points—so many that they blocked my view of the other symbols around her. As I watched in confusion, she suddenly thrust both fists into the air victoriously. Naturally, the teacher told her off for that.
The Miki-san I knew was terrible at math, so she must have studied pretty hard this time. Maybe she had correctly predicted what was going to be on the test. That extra confidence would certainly explain the smirk from earlier.
Seeing her happy made me happy, too. But I couldn’t keep watching her all day long. I had other things to be worrying about at the moment…like my test score.
Perhaps the best word to use in this instance was “destroyed.” Destroyed, decimated, torn to shreds. All the knowledge and concentration I thought I’d gained through studying had slipped away from me like sand through my fingers. Every time I tried to focus on a math problem, my brain started wondering if Miki-san’s boyfriend had given her some private tutoring lessons. And once my brain thought of something horrible, it liked to hold onto it, tormenting me throughout the test, all the way to fourth period.
This was a serious problem. No matter how worried I was, I couldn’t let it affect my schoolwork, or I’d end up retaking this same test with Miyazato-san next year.
Normally this was the part where I’d watch Zuka pull on his perfectly polished sneakers (believe it or not, he was actually something of a neat freak) and head off to the track team clubroom while I packed up to head home. Today, however, I was occupied with…well, a lot of things, honestly, but mostly concern for my academic success. Thus, I decided to stay behind in the school library and do some extra studying.
When I arrived, the library was mostly empty; I sat down at a four-seater table near the windows, where I could see the athletic field. The sports teams weren’t scheduled to have practice during midterms week, but nevertheless, dozens of students were outside running laps on their own, Zuka included. The exercise probably made them feel good and helped to clear their minds after all those stressful tests. I could see exclamation points popping up over their heads, one after another.
As for me, I decided to work just as hard by focusing on my studies. Key word: decided. Unfortunately, once my concentration was broken, it proved difficult to regain. You know, like trust or whatever…I assume. In the end, I spent my time trying to memorize a handful of English vocab words while watching Zuka run laps, with the occasional bathroom break here and there. But the next thing I knew, tragically, I had dozed off.
Of course, I only realized this after I woke up—but I guess you probably figured as much. I opened my eyes, found myself slumped over the table, and my next thought was: oh crap. Timidly, I raised my head. Sure enough, the library was dead silent. Reflexively, I let out a heavy sigh.