The Boy Next Door

two

I wake up to the sound of dozens of birds chirping away outside. The "new house" feeling is somewhat refreshing to wake up to.

In one of my hands is a crumpled sheet of paper. I have to squint my hazy grogginess away before I can even attempt to depict the handwriting. It's Sou's message from his paper airplane yesterday. Ah, that's right. After I'd picked it up I'd gone back into my room and collapsed on the bed, staring at it, until I fell asleep.

I stand up and stretch my arms with a great yawn. My new school uniform is hanging on my closet handle. I slip it on with ease. This uniform isn't nearly as cute as the ones I wore at the public schools in Tokyo and Kyoto, but it's much more practical. Just your normal blue sailor-style school uniform. I mean, at least it doesn't make me look like a blue brick with legs.

The house is dead silent--no clanking of pots and pans, nor the smell of pancakes and eggs in the air. I should have told myself last night that it's only obvious that my mom would've left for her new job by the morning, but I didn't want to believe it. It must be in an entirely different city if she had to leave so early. She won't be back for a week or two, from my best guess. It's always lonely without her.

But she was kind enough to fill up the fridge with a couple small things before she left. I grab a yogurt and slurp it down in a few spoonfuls as I gather things to pack my lunch with. Since I fell asleep before I could make anything yesterday, I don't have many options. I pack a half-eaten sub and an apple and shove the lunchbox into my backpack. I pad towards the front door and sling my backpack into the front basket, slip on my shoes, and head off to school.

The morning air is much crisper than that of any other city I've been in. It's so easy for me to jealously inhale so much of the sweet breeze that my lungs hurt. Mt. Fuji stands proudly above the trees and bright green rice fields as I whisk along the rural dirt paths. I think I could get used to the easygoing countryside lifestyle.

I'm only a minute or so into my bike ride when I start to see students wearing the same uniform as my own. I suppose most of the students would live in my neighborhood to stay as close to the school as possible. Buildings are rather spread out in the farmlands after all. Soon enough I turn into the gates of the run-down school and lock my bike onto an old rail. Then I begin to head into school, clutching my bag tightly with anxiety. Everyone around me is walking with a friend or in a group, as if they've always been that way. Because Shizuoka is so small all of these students have probably known each other for their entire lives--which means that I'm the outsider.

I first begin to feel singled out when I start searching the halls for directions to my classroom, and several boys snicker at me as they walk by. It's not like I can help not knowing my way around this place! I suppose they haven't modernized this ancient school enough to even put floor names by the stairs. 3-B, 3-B, 3-B... I take a wild guess and climb up the stairs to the third floor, and begin to walk through the hallway. 3-D, 3-C...ah! 3-B!

When I slide the door open everyone glances to me with bright faces. But nearly every person's smile falls and heads turn away when they realize that I'm not one of their old friends that they haven't seen all summer. Several people just continue to stare at me or even whisper cruel things about me to their friends.

I quickly shuffle to the far back corner of the room where the only things to keep me company are the students' coats hanging on the rack at the back of the room. I set my back down by my seat and shrink into the seat at my old wooden desk. Back in Kyoto, Jun used to visit me in class every morning just to chat with me until class started. When the door to the classroom opens again I half-expect my bubbly ex-boyfriend to burst through the doors yelling "good morning" like he always did.