GROWING UP, I always wanted to be the hero, not the love interest. I didn’t want pretty dresses—I wanted a transformation belt. Instead of letting the handsome prince protect me, I wanted to be the one to rise up and protect the weak from dark forces.
Now that I was in high school, I knew superheroes and villains didn’t actually exist…but deep down, I was still a kid at heart.
“Look out! Mickey’s gonna do her dropkick!”
No, I’m not!
They say life’s biggest struggles are interpersonal relationships, but for me, that stuff was easy-peasy. I could just look at the little seesaw beam floating at their chest, and as long as it was tilting to the “plus” side, I had done a good job. Sure, if I got a little too aggressive and they shut me down entirely, the beam would tilt to the “minus” side, but even then, I could still make up for it with the depth of my love! That was all there was to it. That said, it didn’t always work…but eh, who cares? I didn’t let it get me down.
So as you can see, I was never too worried about relationship stuff. If I was worried about something, it was generally about something…bigger.
We had just finished rehearsal for the day, and now it was time to change out of our costumes. “Mickey, your kicks are flawless,” an adorable voice called out to me from behind as I pulled on my blazer. I recognized who it was right away; I whirled around and latched on to her.
“Was I badass?”
“Mm-hmm. Next week’s performance is gonna be a hit.”
“Aww, thanks! Ha ha! You smell nice!”
At this, Elle smiled bashfully, and her beam tilted to the right—the plus side. Every time I saw my friends’ emotions lean positive, it made me so happy, I could feel my own beam tilting to match.
“Ooh, your tote bag is really cute. I like the polka dots.”
“Thanks! Yours, too. Is it new?” She smiled shyly.
See, Elle was a super-quiet girl, and in the past, if I tried to hug her, her beam would plummet into the negative. Fortunately, things between us had improved dramatically since then—something I was grateful for every single day. So yeah, nine times out of ten, my relationships with other people only ever brought joy into my life.
As for the name “Elle,” it was just a nickname I gave her—short for Elmo. She wasn’t bright red or anything, but her big googly eyes reminded me of a Sesame Street muppet. Likewise, my nickname was Mickey. Both of us were still very much Japanese, however. In my case, I got this nickname because I have a nasally laugh that sounds like some cartoon mouse. Allegedly.
But right as I was contemplating this—
“Gyah!”
Yelping, Elle nearly jumped out of her skin. Puzzled, I looked over…and spotted Looney standing directly behind her. Instantly, I knew she must have had something to do with it.
“I saw you two hugging and figured it was Tickle Me Elle Day,” Looney replied, pulling her hand out from under Elle’s skirt with a perfectly straight face. “Miyazato-chan, you’ve got a pimple on your butt.”
Scandalized, I pulled Elle into the safety of my arms. “Stop that! Don’t subject poor Elle to your lunacy!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Here, you can touch me back.” Looney lifted her arms into the air like she was raising the roof. It was pretty cringey.
“Just touch her and get it over with,” I advised Elle.
Then she reached out and lightly pinched Looney’s tummy fat. So modest! So cute! But that wasn’t enough to count as proper revenge, so I decided to set a good example.
“You gotta do it more like this!”
First, I touched Looney’s stomach. Then I ran my hands up the stitches of her favorite red sweater…but right as I arrived at her you-know-whats, I hastily drew my hands away.
“Wait, what the…?!”
“Was that enough for you? Okay then, let’s get going,” Looney shrugged, running a hand through her mid-length wavy hair. Before she could walk away, however, I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her over to the corner of the room.
“Uh, Looney?! Why aren’t you wearing one?!” I hissed quietly, ensuring the boys couldn’t hear me.
“What are you talking about? Oh, you mean a bra? Uhhh…woman’s prerogative.”
What does THAT mean?! I must have silently asked her this exact question a thousand times since the day we first met. Meanwhile, Looney furrowed her brow like I was being weird for asking about it.
Interpersonal relationships were supposed to be easy…and yet…every now and then…this one particular lunatic drove me up the wall. She was impossible to read—I mean, take her beam, for example! Instead of tilting left or right, or even just maintaining its balance, her beam spun in circles. Constantly. It wasn’t something I needed to worry about, per se, but…looking at it made me feel stupid in more ways than one.
Evidently Looney the Lunatic didn’t pick up on my confusion, however, because she instead took the opportunity to dodge past me and escape outside.
Whoops! I was so distracted with the braless Looney situation, I forgot to mention the thing I’m actually worried about. Long story short: post-graduation stuff. Setting aside all the hyper-specific questions of which college, and which major, and which classes, I didn’t even know what I wanted to be when I grew up! Sometimes it was really aggravating not being able to see my own beam.
“If you major in literature, you’re gonna have a hard time finding work. You’d be better off spending those four years looking for a man who can take care of you.”
“What, and be a full-time housewife? No thanks, bro. I think I’d die of boredom.”
“If you don’t learn to address your teachers with respect, you won’t even make it to college in the first place!”
He looked angry, and yet, his beam was leaning positive. It was clear to me that he hated all this formal hierarchy nonsense just as much as I did, but because he was a teacher, he had a reputation to maintain.
“Yes, sir! As you wish, sir! I’ll keep it in mind, sir!”
And that was how the student-teacher conference ended.
Then Monday rolled around. I could never really think and do other stuff at the same time, so I was zoning out in front of my shoe locker when I heard a voice behind me.
“Morning! What’s up, Miki-chan? Find a love letter in your locker?”
“Oh, morning, Looney… Wait, what the…? Ha ha! Did you give yourself a style makeover?”
When I turned around, I spotted Looney standing there, her usual waves flat-ironed perfectly straight. Reflexively, I reached out and touched it—whoa, it’s so silky! Then for some reason, she took a step toward me, so I ended up touching something else, too. Instantly, I stopped caring about her hair.
“Looney, seriously! What if the boys find out?!”
“It’s so freeing, you have no idea. I feel like I could fly.”
Smoke will rise and lunatics will climb. That’s how the saying goes, right? As usual, her beam was spinning around wildly.
“So, did you get a love letter?”
“No, not this time.”
“So you’ve actually gotten one before? Impressive.”
“Will you shut up?! I’m trying to figure out life after high school, got it?”
“Oh, right. Still having trouble deciding?”
“Yeah…”
“Just do whatever you want. Who cares?” she shrugged, as if to suggest it was the most minor thing in the entire world and thus wasn’t worth thinking about.
Maybe she felt that way, but I sure didn’t! I couldn’t just do whatever I wanted; I needed to think about employability and all that other crap my teacher mentioned. I needed to make sure I wouldn’t regret my choices later on down the line. And it wasn’t easy to find a safe middle ground.
I pouted my lips at her. Then she walked right up to me, her expression dead serious. Startled, I reflexively stepped backwards, right out of my indoor shoes.
“What, you didn’t want me to kiss you? Guess I misread the signs. Here.”
She picked up my shoes and handed them to me. She wasn’t even embarrassed about what she almost did! People at school liked to call me “crazy” because of my tendency to kick my friends, but she was the real lunatic here, not me!
“It’ll be okay,” she said suddenly, as I was pulling my shoes back on.
“What will?”
“Your future. The Miki-chan I know and love would never make the wrong choices.”
See? Only a true lunatic could say that kind of crap with a straight face.