Shadow

Chapter Eleven

Katie

Diane practiced the walk through Sunpu Park with me for an entire week before school started and I still managed to get lost on the first morning of classes.

“I decided not to send you to an International school,” she’d told me. “You’ll learn faster if you go to a regular Japanese high school.”

“You’re joking,” I’d said, my mouth agape.

She’d shaken her head. “You have it in you. I know it.”

But apparently I couldn’t even make it to school without help. The paths through Shizuoka Station wound underground and split off into unmarked pathways. I’d been seconds away from asking a frightening Buddhist monk for directions, his face hidden under his giant pointy woven hat, a bell in one hand and a bowl for alms in the other. But then I’d seen a pack of students in the same navy-and-white uniform as mine and followed them sheepishly out of the labyrinth, all the way to the Suntaba School gate.

I searched the numbers in the genkan for the cubby that was supposed to be mine. I pulled on the white school slippers and whirled through the maze of corridors.

Great. Lost again. But at least so were all the other freshmen.

“Can I help you?” a girl said in Japanese. She held a clipboard list, and had a little badge pinned to her chest. But—surprise, surprise—I didn’t know the kanji on the clasp. I’d improved a lot with cram school, both in New York and the one I’d started since I arrived in February, but fluency still lay just beyond my reach.

“Um,” I answered in Japanese. “I’m Katie Greene?”

The girl stared at her list as my cheeks blazed red. It was like some sort of test, except we both knew I was a fraud. My Japanese embarrassed both of us.

“Here we are,” she said. “1-D. Follow me.” I followed.

We passed room after room with narrow windows along the side, until I saw the little white sign that marked the classroom as mine.

“Thanks,” I said and the girl nodded, eager to get away. Funny. I’d thought making friends would be easier than that.

The rows of desks were nearly empty, students gathered in groups discussing the winter break. The homeroom fell silent as I entered.

“Um,” I said. “Hi.” I bobbed my head in a tiny bow. No one said anything. My legs felt like they’d give out, so I sat down at a desk near the back. Still nothing. I could almost hear the crickets.

O-kay. Not the reception I’d expected. It was hard to breathe then, like my chest had constricted. What was I doing here anyway? I’d been wrong—there was no life for me here. This was all a mistake. God, I hoped Nan and Gramps could pull things together quickly so this could be done with.

“Ohayo!” yelled out a girl as she entered the classroom, and the students buzzed with activity again.

“Morning!” they shouted back as she joined the group, and the chatter enveloped the silence.

I unpacked my book bag slowly, trying to look busier than I was. I dropped my pen with a clatter, and a few of the students looked over and giggled, then lowered their voices. Great. Now I was the topic of conversation. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around the pen as it rolled away.

“They’re shy because they think you’re an exchange student,” said a voice, and I looked up from the floor. A girl sat backward on the chair in front of me, her shoulder-length hair pulled up in a messy bun. “And they don’t want to get attached in case we all cry when you leave.”