The Final Mark

Chapter 3

     The number was that of Aiko. Mai had texted her that night. It clicked. They were perfect friends.

     It had been about a month before Mai finally got a hang of this school thing. She and Aiko were amazing friends and people had stopped staring. What could be better?

     Mai had learned a lot about Aiko and vice versa. Aiko became the first person that Mai told about her eye. Aiko just hugged her back. This simple action was the best reaction Mai could have wanted. It turned out the ‘emo’ comment was sort of true. Aiko used to have to deal with self harm, but as far as anyone knows, she has stopped.

     The big connection was that they had both been bullied. This created a huge bond between them. They had each other. Finally someone who could finally feel what the other was feeling. Such a simple memory created a complex friendship.

     Mai and Aiko had since vowed to protect each other; and it worked. Whenever some idiot had the nerves to pick on one of them, the other came to the rescue.  Mai finally felt safe for once. It had been over three years since Mai last felt this feeling of safety.

     They had also met up a few times in person. They sang, they had fun. Had fun. Mai loved the feeling of fun. She hadn’t been able to just be with someone in years. To be herself was all she really wanted and Aiko gave this to her.

     Later that night, after school work was done, Mai found herself, to no surprise, texting Aiko.

     ‘Hey,” Mai said.

     ‘Haii,’ responded Aiko.

     ‘How are you?’

     ‘I’m fine. U?’

     ‘Fine myself.’

     ‘School finally treating you well?’

     Mai looked at this question for a while before she answered. She texted back, ‘yes.’ She never thought she would actually be able to say those words.

     ‘That’s awesome :),” said Aiko.  Mai tried to imagine Aiko smiling. Mai loved her smile. It was so calming. Everything about her was calming.

     ‘Thanks,’ said Mai. Mai was still trying to sort out these feelings. Mai was feeling this really close connection to Aiko, and they barely have known each other for two months.  What was this?

     Mai wandered around her little room and pulled out a book. The cover read “Song Book.”  Mai loved to write songs, she wasn’t particularly good in her mind, but she liked it none the less. While she may not be able to write, she can sing. She sang amazingly. Even her dad, who disregarded the arts, said she had an amazing voice. That was one of the biggest compliments she had ever gotten in her life.

     ‘Welcome.’ Mai had forgotten about Aiko. She heard her phone buzz and that was what she saw.

     “I know now,” said Mai.  Mai finally figured out this feeling she was feeling and once it finally stuck in her head she started to blush.

      Mai found another book in her room which she pulled off the shelf. There was a bit of dust on it. She blew it off and when the cloud disappeared all that was left was the word ‘Diary.’

     “Dear Diary,” she wrote. Mai paused and tapped the pencil to her chin trying to put together the words she would write.

     “Today I finally like school again. There is actually a reason to be there,” she wrote. Her pencil flowed across the page. “I have Aiko. She’s really nice to me and we have a lot in common! Any who, I think I’ve figured out these feelings I’ve been telling you about.”

     Mai paused there as if unsure of what to do next. She looked around to see if anyone was around. She sighed of relief. Her hand picked up the pencil and she went back to writing.

     “Anyway, ya. It has been confusing me for the past month, but I may have figured it out. No one can know though. Nobody, like, nobody could know before, but now nobody can know. I’ll just get hate for it and I don’t want that.”

     Mai took a quick break to text Aiko. She thought a bit longer. These feelings were something in which she could not describe, but she knew what they were. Aiko couldn’t know, nor Ayaka or anyone; especially not Kait. Mai’s fists tightened and the thought of that girl. Mai quickly turned to her diary.

     “Kait is a BITCH,” she scribbled real fast. Mai then calmed herself down.

     “Let’s not let her get to you,” she said to herself.

     After a few more minutes of texting Aiko went to bed and Mai was alone once again with her thoughts and diary.

    “So,” she started writing again. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s such a weird feeling.”

     Soon an idea popped into Mai’s head. She reached to the side of her bed and pulled out a laptop. She waited as it booted up. Mai was going to do a little research.

     “google.co.jp,” is what she typed into the url bar. For an hour she spammed the website with questions trying to figure out what these feelings were.

     Every website gave different answers. Some answers were more common at least. With yet to find a valid source Mai was about to give up when another link caught her eye. She went to it and read the article. Mai gasped.

     “Really,” she said quietly to herself. It wasn’t about the article in which she was surprised about, it was the last four words on the page. Four words that changed her life forever: ‘That feeling is love.”

     Mai shut the computer and turned to her diary. “I think I love Aiko,” wrote Mai. With that Mai closed her diary and put it away. She sat on her bed thinking. Did she really love Aiko? Mai started thinking. Was she just denying the feelings? Aiko was a girl and Mai was a girl. Mai gasped. NO ONE COULD KNOW.

     A sweat started appearing on Mai. Her anxiety was starting to kick in. Her mind raced about what would happen if someone found out. More bullying? Disowning? Mai’s mind thought of an infinite amount of possibilities. Mai hugged her pillow and cried. She liked Aiko, but she did not know what to do about it.

     “I have to tell her,” Mai thought to herself. “But what if that ruins our friendship?” Mai did not want to lose Aiko. She is the only friend Mai has. She had another, but only Aiko was left.

     Mai had a friend named Kōichi Hiroshi. He was an amazing person. He played guitar. It was a left-handed guitar. He was left-handed.  The thing that was different about it, though, was that there melodies and poems written on the back. In crisp black ink. He had put them there so he would have something to read when we was performing, but wasn’t playing at the moment. He’s dead now. You’d have liked him.