The Last Leaves Falling (23 page)

GuitarGirl1:
Who? Me? o:-) It’s not me, I promise, I didn’t steal your times!

Even here, in the virtual land of candy bars and kittens, I cannot escape. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face, hear his rasping voice, over and over again.

I want more time.

Except, I don’t. Not if my time will be spent like that.

TandemRide:
Oh come on guys, it’s fiiiiiiine, you just need a schedule.

ShinigamiFanBoy:
O_o

TandemRide:
It’s true. Set your week out in blocks of time, so you know what you should be doing, and if you stick to it . . . :-)

MadSkillz:
We unlock the bonus hours? :D

6 a.m.–7 a.m.: Lie in bed, wait for sunrise.

7–7:30 a.m.: Stare at ceiling.

7:30–8 a.m.: Breakfast. Fail to eat/choke.

8 a.m.–12 p.m.: Stare at ceiling.

I picture the words, stark, monotonous, arranged in neat boxes, color coded and adorned with cheerful stickers. And I want to vomit.

HEY SORA!

HOW WAS YOUR DAY?

Pretty horrible, actually, but can we please talk about something else?

SURE . . . WANNA SEE MY NEW WEBPAGE?

YES!

IT’S REALLY BASIC, AND IT PROBABLY DOESN’T LOOK LIKE MUCH, BUT I BUILT IT MYSELF!

WWW.ONEBOYSFAVOURITES.CO.JP

I click on the link.

There’s nothing much there. A red banner, with big, chunky title-text and bold headings. Things that would take two minutes on BlogThis.

It looks great! Well done.

REALLY?

Yes! I wouldn’t know where to start unless someone’d done all the actual work for me.

:) THANKS. I’LL LEARN HOW TO DO THE FANCY STUFF. BUT IT’S HARD. LIKE, LEARNING A NEW LANGUAGE—several, all at once.

And you said you don’t like studying. :p

YEAH, WELL, THIS IS DIFFERENT.

:-)

She what?

She’s back?

I want to click accept but my arm feels strange. Numb.

I want to ask her where she’s been. To throw my virtual arms around her and never let go, and to shake her, turn my back, and storm away.

And before I can work out which impulse is stronger, Kaito must have let her in, because she’s there, in front of me.

Hi guys :-/

I’m sorry I have not been around. Are you mad at me? :-/

MAI! NO, OF COURSE NOT! WHERE WERE YOU? ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

HAHAHAHA, I AM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK, WE’VE MISSED YOU!

I’ll explain everything, but not here. Can we meet? I just . . . this needs sugar. All the sugar. Bowls and bowls of it.

SURE.

 . . . Sora?

What’s happened? Are you all right?

Not here, please.

It could be good news. Maybe she’s been busy crafting a portfolio, applied for an apprenticeship with a studio, been accepted. Any news is better face to face, with treats to celebrate. But . . . As we make plans for the weekend, I read over her words again, and worry creeps into my brain. Maybe it is just my day, casting monstrous shadows over everything I see, but I can’t help feeling there’s more to it than that and something’s wrong.

48

“There she is.”

The All America Café is full, buzzing with the clink of glasses and excited conversations, and there are people everywhere, but I pick Mai easily from the crowds. She is sitting in a booth all by herself, absently stirring a drink with a straw.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yes.”

“I could stay, at another table. Just in case.”

“No, Mama. It’s fine.”

The lines across my mother’s forehead give away her feelings, but she nods, and pushes me toward the table. A waitress scoots out of the way as we approach, giving my mother the sympathetic smile. I wish that I could do this by myself, at least, but my arms don’t have the strength.

Mai looks up and waves, shyly.

“Hi,” I say as Mama parks my chair at the end of the table. “You remember my mother?”

“Abe-san.” Mai bows her head. “I trust that you are well.”

“Yes. Thank you.” My mother sidesteps, so she’s facing me, and says, “I won’t be far. If you need anything—”

“
Yes
, Mama.”

Her fingers rest against my arm, just for a second, and then she’s gone.

I grin at Mai, relieved. “Hi,” I say again, and then, because her eyes are trailing after my mother, “Sorry. She
had
to come.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice is small, and she ducks her head, looking at me over thick black eyelashes. “How are you?”

“All right, thanks. You?”

“I don’t think your mother has forgiven me for the last time we met.”

“It’s not that. She just worries about leaving me.”

Mai glances at my chair, my hands limply resting in my lap.

“How are you really?”

“It’s getting worse. But I’m managing.”

She looks away, her eyes betraying the guilt, pity. And then, “Shall I order you something?”

She can’t wait to get away. “Please.”

“What would you like? Coffee? Milk shake? Ice cream?”

I twist my head and shoulders to look at the menu that hangs over the bar.

“Root beer float, please?”

Mai’s nose wrinkles.

“What?”

“Root beer? It tastes like medicine.”

“As someone who takes rather a lot of medications, I can promise that it doesn’t.”

Shock passes across her face as she tries to work out whether I am serious. I smile wider, and she visibly deflates, then grins at me. “Be right back.”

I let the hubbub reenter my consciousness and relax me; the twang of American guitars playing through the jukebox, the laughter, the whir of milk shake blenders. I inhale the smell of fabricated joy; sugared, greasy, leather-seated joy.

“Heeeeey, man.” Kaito slips into the seat beside me, and slinks down so low that his head is level with the table.

“Hi. Mai has just gone to the bar. She won’t be long.”

“Yeah. I saw her on the way over. So how are things?”

“Okay, thanks. You?”

“Yeah. We should meet like this more often. I mean, the chat room’s great, but there’s
milk shake
here!”

“It
is
nice.”

He picks up a coaster and taps out a rhythm against the table’s edge. He’s staring into nothing, completely at ease. My foot joins in—nothing moves, but I can feel the muscles dancing underneath my skin.

“Have you been in here before?”

“No. You?”

“No. I like it though.”

“Me too. It smells like fun.” I hear the words leaving my mouth, and they sound so stupid. As though I have never been anywhere, or spoken to another human being before. “I mean—”

“Yeah. The Americans get some things really right. Not all things, but this,
this
is brilliant.”

“What’s brilliant?” Mai asks, returning with two glasses in hand. “Root beer for you”—she places it in front of me—“and a strawberry-mint milk shake.” She slides it across the table, and Kaito catches it, raising the straw to his lips.

“Wait wait wait!” she squeals. He stops dead. “A toast! To us, the—what did you call us? The Gleesome Threesome.”

“To us!”

Kaito slurps loudly. “You know, I think our name could use some work.”

Mai giggles. “I am SO glad you’re both here. Now, Sora, tell me alllll about your holiday!”

I recount the tale of the bakeneko and Cat Twenty-three, and Mai gasps and giggles in all the right places while Kaito spurs her on. It’s perfect. And for five beautiful minutes, I feel like me again.

And then I remember.

“Mai . . .”

“Yes?”

“Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell us?”

The laughter drains away immediately, leaving a thin nervousness hanging in the air.

“Ye-es.” She sighs.

Kaito sets down his drink and leans toward her, fingers steepled in anticipation.

“Go on?”

“I . . .”

I watch her chest flutter as she inhales, and I feel like someone’s scooped out my insides and left me empty. What
is
it Mai?

“Oh, guys, it’s
terrible
!”

What?

She looks at each of us in turn, and when she speaks again she’s calm, but her voice carries a weight that does not fit her appearance. “My mother, she . . . we had this big argument and she took away my Internet. She says you’re all a bad influence.”

Kaito grins. “I mean, she isn’t
entirely
wrong there, Mai.”

“Yes she is!” Mai huffs, cheeks red. “And it gets worse. Wait till you hear why we argued . . . She wrote university applications in my name, to Harvard and Oxford. Without telling me. She wants a fancy-schooled lawyer for a daughter, and nothing I can do will stop her
getting
one.”

“She can’t! You can’t! What about your
art
?”

“Yeah! Can’t you stand up to her?”

Mai shakes her head sadly. “I tried. My mother is determined. Once she has made up her mind, that’s it. And she’s already sent the applications. But I
can’t
be a lawyer. I can’t!”

I imagine Mai sitting at the back of an old Oxford classroom filled with wooden chairs that glow warm in the sun and air so thick with knowledge that it wraps itself around you like a woolen blanket. But Mai is not comforted by this place. Chained to her desk, she glances up at the high windows, watches the dust motes, and the clouds scudding by on the other side of the glass. She needs to be free.

“No.” I shake my head defiantly. “You won’t have to. We will think of something. Won’t we, Kai?”

“Yes!” He sits up straight. “The Gleesome never turn down a fight. And with all our superhero supersleuthing powers, we will find a way to fix this.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, but she does not look too sure.

“It’ll be okay, Mai.”

She’s facing Kaito, but her eyes slide sideward to me and her shoulders sink. “Yeah, maybe.”

49

Are you sure you’re all right, Mai? Is something else wrong?

It just seemed like there was something you weren’t saying.

No, I’m fine.

You forget, I am the High Emperor of Secrets.

Ha!

I just . . . I can’t do it, Sora. I can’t sit in a stuffy office all day, looking at hundred-year-old laws and fixing disputes between angry neighbors. But I can’t tell her, either. The disappointment would destroy her.

I don’t know that I buy it. There was more. But I can’t exactly call my friend a liar.