INK

I made it halfway across the courtyard before I realized I was still wearing my school slippers. No lie. I had to turn around and slink all the way back to the genkan, the stifled laughs from my classmates trailing me as I mustered what slippered dignity I could.

God, way to scream foreigner. You'd think after a couple of weeks I'd have the routine down, but no. I'd gone into that mode again, the one where I forgot everything for a minute, and walked dazed through the sounds of the Japanese being spoken around me, not fully comprehending that it wasn't English, that I was on the other side of the world, that Mom was…

"Katie!"

I looked up to see Yuki running toward me, breaking from a group of girls who stopped chatting, staring at us. Their stares weren't unfriendly—they just weren't exactly subtle. I guess that's expected when you're the only Amerika-jin in the school

Yuki grabbed my arms with her slender fingers. "You do not want to go in there," she said in English, motioning at the school entrance behind us.

"Um, I kind of have to," I answered in broken Japanese. Forget English, Diane had said. It's the easiest way to get fluent faster. It's easier to forget everything, I guess. Forget I ever had any other kind of life.

Yuki shook her head, so I pointed at my slippered feet. "You still shouldn't," she said, this time in Japanese. I liked that about Yuki—she knew I was trying. She didn't insist on English like some of the other kids. "There's an ugly breakup going on in the genkan. Really, really awkward."

"What am I supposed to do, wait?" I said. "I'll just be in and out, ten seconds." I held out my fingers for emphasis.

"Trust me," she said, "you don't want to get in the middle of this."

I peeked around her shoulder, but I couldn't see anything through the glass. I tapped the toe of my slipper on the ground; it felt so flimsy.

"Some big shot?" I said in English, and Yuki cocked her head to the side. "You know, a daiji na hito or something?" If Yuki was worried, it was probably gossip-worthy.

She leaned in conspiratorially. "Yuu Tomohiro," she whispered. In Japan, everyone went by their last names first. "He's fighting with Myu."

"Who?"

Yuki's friends giggled behind us. Had they been eavesdropping the whole time?

"Myu, his girlfriend," she said.

"No, I know Myu. The other one," I said.

"Yuu Tomohiro?" Yuki said, her arms waving wildly as if that would jog a memory I didn't have. "Top of the kendo team? They let him get away with almost anything. You don't want to draw his attention, trust me. He has this cold stare. I dunno…he seems dangerous."

"So what, he's going to stare me down?"

Yuki rolled her eyes. "You don't get it. He's unpredictable. You don't want to make enemies with a third year in your first two weeks, do you?"

I bit my lip, trying to peer through the glass door again. I didn't need more attention, that's for sure. I just wanted to blend in, get my homework done and drift through school until Nan and Gramps could take me in. But I also didn't want to stand in the courtyard in a pair of slippers, stuck for who knows how long. Anyway, it's not like they could make my life a living hell if I left Japan, and it would all be sorted out soon, right? This wasn't where Mom intended me to end up. I knew that.

"I'm going in," I said.

"You're crazy," Yuki said, but her eyes shone with excitement.

"They don't scare me."