The Nail That Sticks Out

Chapter Seven: Culture

Olivia Mei Sasaki

"When am I ever wrong, Liv? I've been telling you since day fucking one that you should ignore your piece-of-garbage father and come to UCLA."

I roll my eyes and continue clipping my nails. For the past hour, I've been on the phone with Sophia and a good portion of it was spent with me ranting about Waseda University.

"You know I had no choice, Soph. He had a point. How am I supposed to help run Muses if my Japanese is equivalent to a first grader's? Twelve hotels, Soph, I have to learn how to be a Japanese person."

I practically hear her roll her eyes. "Bitch, you don't even like hotel management. Whatever happened to working in research? Isn't that why you're studying bio in the first place?"

Damn it. I've known Sophia since pre-school and we've grown to the point where we've given up on beating around the bush. She's my best friend for a reason but I hate how she's able to corner me like this.

"I'm still aiming for it," I defend. "Muses is just my safety net."

That was partly true. Another part of me was simply happy about the fact that my father was giving me the option to have anything to do with his company. I was so sure that he'd just pay for whatever school I wanted to go to and let me live my own life as long as I wasn't bothering his.

"God, Liv, we both know for a fact that you don't need a damn safety net. You're so keen on making your mom proud, I'm pretty sure you'd cut a finger off before you even think about giving up on research."

Her colorful words make me flinch as I clip off my last long fingernail. 

I hear Sophia clear her throat on the other end of the line. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring her up."

"No, I was just thinking about your idea of chopping my finger off."

"Oh, good. Then yeah, what I said. I know you too well, Liv. You're not going to take over your dad's business. You're not even going to have anything to do with it. With your grades and credits, I'm willing to bet my boyfriend's dick that you could transfer over to UCLA with no problem. 

"You don't have a boyfriend," I point out.

"Shut up and just think about it, okay?"

There's no arguing with this girl. 

"Fine."

"Good. I know it's late over there and I've got to get to class. Call me soon, okay? Love you," she chirps.

"I will. Love you."

I hang up and clean the tiny desk in my room before pulling out my laptop. Waseda's boring, sure, but it's not a shitty university. I'm almost a week into the semester and I've already been assigned a good amount of practical work.

Noah was right about Dr. Davis. Out of all six courses that I'm taking this semester, Dr. Davis' is definitely the one I'm most keen on attending. Our lecture two days ago was heavy as we dove right into the topic of the integumentary system. Having read the syllabus before signing up for Human Anatomy, I was already dreading most topics that weren't related to vital organs. I mean, who really wants to learn about the production of sweat or pancreatic juices? 

Nonetheless, I was pleasantly surprised that Dr. Davis made the topic a lot less foul and mundane. That man could probably talk about how a fire hydrant works and still make it sound interesting. Working on his assignment now actually makes me look forward to his class tomorrow.