It certainly wasn’t Millie’s dream.
She shuffled in her seat, no longer laughing. “I don’t really want to keep playing the flute my whole life. I’d rather do something else in college.”
Scott’s hand moved to the stereo and he turned the volume down. “What are you talking about? Flute lessons are an investment—it’s how you’ll get into college. You could get a full scholarship and go to an amazing school. And if you want to study something else, maybe you could double major. There are so many possibilities, Millie.”
She shrugged. “That all sounds like the same possibility to me.”
Scott frowned. “I know you hate practicing, but nobody really likes practicing when they’re a kid. Wait until you’re older. You’ll be so glad we made you stick with music and didn’t let you waste your potential.”
Millie made a face. Didn’t she still have potential even without music? Or did music really have to be it?
Maybe she hadn’t really settled on a dream yet. She didn’t have a plan, the way her mom and dad had when they were younger and wanted to perform in the London Philharmonic. But even their plans changed. Instead of music degrees and flying across the Atlantic Ocean, they’d had Millie.
Why was it so important for Millie to share a dream that never came true for them in the first place?
“Hey, we should stop by Chinatown. Isn’t there a store you really like that sells erasers that look like hamburgers? Maybe we could get a few of them for school,” Scott offered, oblivious to Millie’s sunken shoulders.
“Maybe another time. I have homework.” She didn’t want to go to her favorite place when she felt so frustrated.
“Okay, kiddo,” Scott said, and turned the volume back up on the stereo.
The car filled with growling timpani and whispering violins. It was tension all the way through. The complete opposite of what J-Pop felt like.
The complete opposite of what Millie wanted.
She stared out the window and counted the passing trees until her head spun.
* * *
It turned out rehearsing as a group was a bigger challenge than any of the J-Club members had expected.
Millie had never sung in front of anyone before, and her nerves got the better of her. Luna and Ashley spent more time looking embarrassed in front of each other than actually singing. And Zuki was so focused on Chiyo’s solo riffs that she barely noticed when the rest of the room had gone quiet.
The rehearsal was a disaster. Yet for some reason, it seemed to be the very thing that united the group. After enough failed attempts at the same song, everyone found themselves in an unstoppable burst of giggles.
“I’m sorry.” Luna hiccupped. “I laugh when I’m uncomfortable.”
“This is so awkward,” Millie said as her eyes began to water.
“You realize we sound terrible, right?” Ashley mused.
Zuki managed to smile and grimace at the same time. “No, we don’t! We just need to practice more. Besides, I thought it was really good for our first day of singing. Generation Love’s first recording session went so bad they were afraid they were going to get fired. So they practiced outside their normal hours and came back with a vengeance and blew the whole studio away!”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about getting fired,” Millie offered like a sad consolation prize.
Ashley rolled their eyes. “Of course not. Zuki isn’t going to fire anyone when this is basically the first time in years anybody actually turned up to J-Club. I’m surprised she didn’t make us sign contracts to keep us from leaving.”
Luna sucked in a quick breath of air, and for a moment the room fell silent. Everyone turned to Zuki.
And then the laughter exploded like a tuba.
Zuki clutched her sides. Millie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Even Luna and Ashley exchanged a humorous glance.
“Well, the point is, we have plenty of time to practice,” Zuki managed to say. “And I just know we’ll get better and better. Maybe we could even practice outside of school sometime!”
The laughter quickly dulled, and Luna shifted in her seat.
Ashley sniffed. “Yeah, I doubt that’s going to happen. What if someone sees us all together?”
Luna looked hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ashley lifted a brow. “Wasn’t that your rule? That J-Club had to be a secret?”
“Yeah, but the way you said it…” Luna shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”
Millie reacted immediately, searching for a way to smooth things over. “We really don’t mind. You told us when you joined how you felt, and it’s really not a big deal. Right, Zuki?”
Zuki waited a beat too long. “We’re just happy you’re in the band.”
Luna bit her lip, flustered. “It’s not what you think. I like being in J-Club. But sometimes it’s nice to keep something you love to yourself.”
“I—I know what you mean,” Millie said, her voice faltering. Everyone turned to look at her, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t really talk to my parents about Generation Love, or J-Pop at all, because I know they wouldn’t understand. They’ll think it’s silly or a waste of time. And it takes away some of the joy, when people don’t get you. I guess sometimes I feel like I love J-Pop so much that I want to protect it, even if that means keeping it to myself.”
Luna relaxed. “Yeah. Exactly.”
Ashley stared at their hands, jaw clenched, but didn’t say anything.
“That’s the whole point of J-Club,” Zuki said, gazing around the room. “We have a space just for us, where we can be ourselves.” She grinned toothily. “How about we make that our rule?”
“I don’t think we need any more rules,” Ashley mumbled dryly.
“Not a rule then,” Zuki countered. “More like a club philosophy. When we’re in J-Club, nothing else matters. We get to be the person we really want to be, and not the person anyone expects us to be.”
“I like the sound of that,” Millie admitted.
Luna smiled softly. “Me too.”
Ashley ran a hand through their hair. “Yeah, okay, whatever. But if this is some kind of club ‘moment’ you’re all having, please know in advance that I’m not hugging any of you.”
“Fine. No hugging,” Zuki said, rolling her eyes. “But let’s promise to always be there for each other, if we ever need it.”
“‘Always and forever,’” Millie added, quoting one of Generation Love’s songs.
Zuki beamed. “Exactly.”
Luna opened her mouth to reply, but Ashley stood up suddenly, frustration pooling in their eyes.
“Where are you going?” Millie asked, puzzled.
“The bell is about to ring. And I don’t want to stick around making promises none of us are going to keep,” Ashley said simply. As if on cue, the ding of the late bell sounded, and Ashley left without another word.
The others gathered their belongings in awkward silence until Luna paused near the doorway, turning sharply on her heels.
“Don’t listen to Ashley. I like your club philosophy. And—” She bit her lip. “And I don’t think you should feel bad about loving what you love. Because hiding it feels so much worse. Trust me.”
She left Millie and Zuki alone in the orchestra room, and for all the time it took to get to the school bus, Millie couldn’t stop wondering whether Luna’s message had been meant for them at all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On Saturday, Millie and her parents went to Chinatown for lunch. Their favorite ramen restaurant was right inside the mini–shopping mall, between the bakery and one of three boba tea shops scattered around the complex. And upstairs was Millie’s favorite store in the whole world—Pop Cute.
It was filled with adorable key chains and stationery, and stuffed animals that ranged from pocket size to bedroom size. But the best part was the back of the store, which housed an entire wall of J-Pop albums, posters, and fan trinkets.
&nbs
p; It was the only place in Oregon that sold the limited edition Generation Love CDs. Anyone could order them off the internet, if they were willing to pay a small fortune for shipping. But Millie had always felt like there was something special about being in a store and holding the CD in her hands. It was kind of like finding a hidden treasure out in the wild. It was memorable.
Scott and Jane were still in the restaurant, but they’d said it was okay for Millie to visit Pop Cute on her own, as long as she didn’t leave the shopping center. Millie was staring at a pack of animal-shaped highlighters when she heard the bell above the shop door ring. It didn’t occur to her to look up—not until the newcomer made a beeline for the CD shelf, and Millie caught a glimpse of coffee-colored hair.
She blinked. “Luna?”
Luna looked like a deer caught off guard. Her brown eyes were wide and alarmed until recognition set in. And then, relief. “Oh, Millie! What are you doing here?”
Millie moved away from the stationery shelves and took a few steps closer to Luna. “Just looking around, mostly. Me and my parents just finished eating lunch at the ramen place downstairs.”
“I love that restaurant!” Luna exclaimed, tucking a curl over her ear. She was wearing purple leggings and a loose T-shirt. Her dance school’s shiny gold logo was printed across the chest.
Millie couldn’t hide her surprise. “You like ramen?”
“My mom was stationed in Japan for a while—she was in the navy before I was born—and she still makes ramen all the time. And chicken katsu curry, which is my favorite.”
“That’s so cool,” Millie said. “My parents cook curry all the time, too. And corn chowder on rice, but that isn’t really Japanese. I think only the rice counts.” She paused. “I guess it’s half Japanese, like me.”
“Well, that’s half more than I am.” Luna laughed at first, but her smile slowly faded. She fiddled nervously with her silver charm bracelet. “Sometimes I get embarrassed about loving J-Pop so much.” Her eyes widened and she quickly added, “Not because J-Pop is embarrassing or anything! It’s just sometimes I don’t feel like I’m supposed to like it, since I’m not Japanese.”
“You don’t have to be Japanese to like J-Pop.”
Luna lifted her shoulders like she wasn’t so sure. “I used to go on the fan forums all the time to talk about new albums, and videos, and rumors. You know—all the fun stuff. But then one day someone called me a weeaboo. I know it was just one person, but after that I started to feel really self-conscious. Like maybe everyone was thinking that, and I just had no idea. So I stopped telling anybody about the kind of music I like.” Luna’s hands dropped to her sides. “It felt safer to keep it to myself.”
“That’s ridiculous for someone to call you that,” Millie said, defensive on Luna’s behalf. “Anyone is allowed to like J-Pop. Music is supposed to be a universal language. It’s about how it makes people feel. Liking it has nothing to do with how someone looks or what last name they have.”
Luna half smiled. “When you say it like that, it makes sense. But I don’t know … People on the internet can be mean, I guess.”
Millie lifted her brows. “People can be mean in real life, too.”
Luna hesitated, probably imagining Ruby and Annabelle and how they’d react if they saw her in Chinatown shopping for CDs at Pop Cute. After a moment, Luna tightened her jaw like she didn’t like imagining it at all.
Would they call her names if they knew she liked J-Pop, too? Was that why she didn’t want to tell them about J-Club?
“You know, it really shouldn’t matter what they think,” Millie said quietly.
“Maybe it shouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.” Luna looked around at the J-Pop posters and sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I just don’t fit neatly into a box. Like there are too many different pieces of me that won’t make sense to other people. But sometimes what I really want more than anything is just to feel like I fit in, you know?”
Millie had never imagined that anyone as popular as Luna could actually be lonely deep down, but maybe she was. Maybe she’d been as lonely as Millie, even if she wasn’t technically alone.
“It hasn’t always been easy making friends,” Luna admitted sadly. “I know that might seem silly to you because you and Zuki are so close.”
“It’s not silly at all,” Millie said. “I’d never even had a friend before Zuki. So I get it. I get why it’s so important for you to feel like you fit in. But you have J-Club now, and we don’t care what kind of box you come in or whether you have a box at all. We just want to be your friend.”
Luna stared at the floor. “I seem to be better at losing friends than keeping them.”
All Millie wanted was to make her feel better. “I’m sorry people are making you feel bad. But it’s not your fault. You’re amazing! And I think it’s really cool that you like J-Pop.” She offered a grin. “Everyone is so obsessed with K-Pop these days. I feel like J-Pop is kind of underappreciated.”
The tension in Luna’s face began to fade. “Generation Love is a million times better than any K-Pop group.”
“Definitely,” Millie agreed, smiling brightly.
Luna stared up at the nearby posters and brushed a strand of curls away from her face. “So,” she said, “how many of these groups have you listened to?”
They spent the next few minutes gushing about their favorite solo artists and bands and about all the rumors of Chiyo and Jake Takeshi breaking up until Scott and Jane arrived with a pink box Millie recognized from the bakery and said it was time to go home. They even said a quick hello to Luna, who, thankfully, knew better than to mention anything about J-Club.
On the drive home, Millie ate a coconut bun in the back seat while her parents chatted about work, and thought about how she and Luna had more in common than she’d ever imagined. More than simply a love of J-Pop.
It turned out they were both afraid of losing their friends. And maybe what they wanted most of all was just to feel like they belonged.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When the bell rang, everyone grabbed their backpacks and hurried for the door. Mr. Holland had just finished wiping away the notes from the whiteboard and set the magnetic eraser in the far corner. “Millie, could we talk for a moment?” he asked.
She paused, immediately worried. One of her classmates started to push past her, so she stepped out of the way and ended up right in front of Mr. Holland.
He waited until the other students left before he spoke. “I want to talk to you about your grades.”
Millie dropped her eyes. “Oh,” was all she could think to say.
“You’re barely hanging on to a D. And it might be too late to change that before progress reports come out, but you still have time to bring your percentage up before final report cards.” Mr. Holland waited for Millie to reply, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
She felt like a statue, unable to move.
Mr. Holland looked serious. He was usually full of jokes, so that wasn’t a good sign. “I expect every student to spend at least fifteen minutes reviewing the material when they get home each night. That’s really not asking a lot.”
Millie frowned. She easily spent twice that amount of time studying. Not to mention her other classes and flute practice.
He continued. “I’d like to see you start making more of an effort—and not just with homework. Class participation is also part of your grade, you know. You haven’t raised your hand once so far.”
Millie’s heart was shriveling up like a prune. Now she had to worry about public speaking, too?
When Millie still didn’t say anything, Mr. Holland sighed. “I give every student the grades they earn. And yours aren’t going to improve unless you start trying harder.”
Millie managed to nod twice and mumble something that sounded a lot like okay, before making her way out of the Science room and toward the cafeteria.
* * *
The fizz of Zuki’s soda bottle caught Millie’s at
tention, and she watched as Zuki quickly screwed the cap back on to keep it from bubbling over.
“Ugh, seriously? Why does this always happen to me?” Zuki said with a comical groan. She snatched up a napkin from the lunch table and wiped her hand.
Ashley’s gaze stretched across the cafeteria. “Does it not bother you two that she basically pretends she doesn’t know us?” they asked, oblivious to the mess Zuki had made.
Luna was sitting at her usual table, surrounded by her dance-major friends. Their table always seemed to be laughing over a never-ending inside joke.
Zuki tossed her napkin on her tray. “We should find a choir major to join J-Club. Do either of you know any choir majors? Haley Corral is in Choir II, and she’s in my Science class. But she says she hates pop music, so I don’t think that’s going to work. I don’t know how anyone can hate pop music. In a way, almost everything was pop music at some point, right? Even Mozart!”
Ashley didn’t seem to hear her. “I mean, it’s like we don’t even exist outside of J-Club. It’s rude.”
“It doesn’t have to be a choir major. A theater major could be good, too,” Zuki said from far away, her thoughts dancing in her eyes. “But someone who’s a strong singer. You know, to help with the harmonies. Maybe we could even sing ‘Lost Star’ a capella, the way Generation Love did on that radio show last month!”
Zuki and Ashley clearly weren’t listening to each other. Millie wanted to respond, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Discussing Luna seemed unfair when she wasn’t there to defend herself, and finding a fifth member for J-Club seemed like too big a problem for Millie to solve alone—especially since she didn’t know any choir or theater majors.
So instead, she changed the subject altogether.
“Today might be my last J-Club meeting for a while,” Millie said in a hollow voice.
Ashley snapped their mouth shut immediately.
Zuki looked panicked. “What do you mean?”
“My progress report has a lot of Cs,” Millie admitted. “And a D in Earth Science. There’s no way my parents won’t ground me.” It didn’t matter if they didn’t know about J-Club. Staying after school at all, for any kind of club, would be out of the question.
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