Some Teacher: Second Semester!

(5.6) Contest time!

"And the winner is . . ." the announcer paused for dramatic effect, his sparkly blue suit glinting in the stage lights as he easily slid the card out of the envelope. His already bright smile doubled in size as he looked at the name and finally read it out loud. "Kida Fukara!"

Fukara stood up, his own glittery suit dazzling in the spotlight, and a cacophony of cheers and applause echoing off the great vaulted ceilings as he walked down the aisle to the stage, waving and blowing kisses at the adoring audience. "Thank you. Thank you! I'm so honored to receive this award. So touched. Thank you."

"Kidaaa!" He was jerked out of his dream by the sound of his mother hollering at him. "I thought I told you to take the garbage out last night! Now get your butt out of bed and come deal with it!" He sighed heavily and rolled out of bed reluctantly.

"Coming mom!" he called to her.

He stayed in bed a few minutes more, trying to keep his eyes open, wondering why his bed always felt most comfortable when he was supposed to get out of it, then his mother's screeching voice assaulted his ears again, and he sighed and forced himself out of bed for real. He clambered down the stairs, practically dead on his feet. Once he'd taken out the kitchen garbage, his mother had finished making breakfast, and he sat down across from her to eat it.

"Thanks for the food."

"So what time is that film thing I'm taking you to this afternoon?" she asked him.

"Hm?"

"The movie contest. That's later today, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, the film festival." As if he could have forgotten. He just didn't want to seem too overeager because then his parents might make a big, embarrassing thing out of it, and he couldn't have that. "Submitters are supposed to be there before five thirty I think, and the screening starts at six."

"That should be fun, right?" his mother said, and he nodded, but said nothing, not wanting to risk his cool act. "I wish you would let me watch your video, I'm dying of curiosity."

"You'll see it at the festival with everyone else."

"Oh! Your father's coming too. He'll get there a little later than us with commute traffic, but he promised he'd be there."

"He won't be too busy?"

"He promised he wouldn't work overtime today. I even made him call his boss to ensure that he wouldn't be asked to work overtime today. I sat there while he made the call on speakerphone." She grinned enthusiastically. It seemed that despite his best efforts, his parents still picked up on how much this meant to him. "You so rarely invite us to your things. We hardly ever get to cheer you on like we did when you were little. You're always doing things yourself now—and I'm proud of you for that, for being independent but, I still want to be there to support you sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." God, his mom was so embarrassing sometimes. "I invited you to the film festival."

"You did, and I can't wait to see what you made. I'm sure it'll be amazing."

Fukara scarfed down the rest of his food so as to faster escape his mother and her mortifying mom-ness. He climbed the stairs hurriedly and went right back to his room, back to sleep, or playing games on his laptop, or fleshing out a new script, or something, while he bided his time until the summer film festival that evening.

—

"Shoto!" Mr. Ken called to his son behind him. "You were the one who wanted to go to this culinary convention so hurry it up or we'll miss the train!"