Generation Misfits

by Akemi Dawn Bowman

  Getting a D would’ve probably been enough for her to be grounded from a flute club, if that was even possible.

  Ashley made a face. “How do you have a D in Earth Science? All you have to do is turn in the homework. The answers to the tests are basically the same thing.”

  Millie opened her mouth to explain how confusing she found school, but Zuki interrupted. “You can’t miss J-Club! You’re the vice president. Maybe you can just promise your parents you’ll get your grades back up? Or just not show them the progress report?”

  “They know that they come out this week. And I can’t lie,” Millie said. Not again. Not when J-Club was the lie.

  Ashley stood up suddenly. “I have an idea. I’ll see you both after school.”

  “But what about your—” Zuki started, but Ashley was already gone. She looked at the plate of fries Ashley had left behind before shoving a few of them in her mouth. “What?” she asked when she saw Millie staring at her. “I don’t want them to go to waste.”

  “It’s not the fries.” Millie frowned, desperately trying to find the right words. “It’s—is school hard for you?”

  Zuki picked up another fry. “No, not really. Math is hard sometimes. Or having to remember all the rules for it, anyway.” She paused. “Didn’t you have to learn the same stuff when you were homeschooled?”

  “My parents mostly wanted me to focus on music, but I had workbooks and science projects, and sometimes they’d even make me write essays.” Millie tilted her head back thoughtfully. “But even if the work was hard, I was never confused about what I was supposed to be doing.”

  “You can always ask the teacher for help,” Zuki offered.

  “But I feel like I’m the only one who needs extra help. And I feel like I’d be bugging them.”

  “That’s their job.”

  Millie squeezed her hands into nervous fists. “Then why do they always assume I’m being lazy or forgetting to do my homework? How come none of my teachers ever ask if I understand what homework to do?”

  “Well, because it’s not that hard to figure out,” Zuki said like it was the simplest answer in the world.

  “That’s what I mean,” Millie said exasperatedly. “It is hard for me. I feel confused all the time. And I’m not saying it’s because homeschooling is bad or anything like that, because my parents tried really hard to teach me stuff. But it’s different.”

  “Maybe it’s like going to school in a foreign country,” Zuki mused. “Like in Japan, the rules are different. Did you know everyone eats lunch in their classroom? And they have to clean every day. They don’t even have janitors!”

  “Is that true?” Millie asked.

  Zuki lifted her shoulders. “That’s what the internet said.”

  The internet had the answers to a lot of questions, but it didn’t know everything. It couldn’t make school easier for Millie or get her parents to stop pressuring her.

  It couldn’t change her grades.

  Millie sighed, took a fry from Ashley’s plate, and wished there was a way to make all her problems disappear.

  * * *

  At the J-Club meeting after school, Ashley stood in front of Millie with their arm outstretched, a piece of white paper stamped with the school’s logo in the top corner. It was a progress report. A blank progress report.

  “Where did you get that?” Millie asked with wide eyes.

  Ashley shrugged impatiently, like what they were handing over wasn’t a big deal at all. “You can fill this one out and change the grades. That way your parents won’t get mad at you.”

  “I knew you were a delinquent,” Zuki hissed, half playful, half serious. “Did you steal that from a teacher?”

  Luna watched Ashley curiously but didn’t say anything.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ashley grumbled. “Just take it.”

  Millie did, and felt her hands begin to shake. She may have lied to her parents about J-Club, but forging her teachers’ signatures? Changing her grades? That was a different level of lie.

  Zuki snatched the paper out of Millie’s hands before she could think. “I’ll do the signatures. I’m pretty good at copying them.”

  “And you think I’m the delinquent?” Ashley asked dryly.

  Zuki compared Millie’s real progress report, scribbling in pen like she was following a pattern. “My parents always forget to sign stuff. I’ve had practice,” she replied. Millie expected her to elaborate, but she didn’t. When Zuki was done writing, her sunshine smile returned. “There. Perfect.”

  Millie couldn’t even tell the difference.

  “Now for the grades,” Zuki began, bringing her pen back to the page.

  “Don’t do all As,” Luna said in a rushed voice. She looked at everyone in the room—even Ashley—like she was apologizing for jumping in. “It’s just, if you put in all As, it looks obvious. At least put one B.”

  “Good point,” Zuki said. “Okay, Millie, you have a B in Earth Science.”

  Millie opened her mouth and closed it again, like a confused guppy. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to lie to her parents about something so enormous?

  “All done,” Zuki said with a grin, handing the progress report to Millie for inspection.

  She looked at the new grades as if they were the truth and not a lie at all. She expected to feel guilty. She thought being part of such a big deception would crush her.

  Instead, she felt relieved.

  “Thanks,” Millie said finally.

  Zuki smiled. Luna nodded. Ashley crossed their arms like they were bored.

  They’d helped her. Maybe even saved her. And the truth was, she was happy to let them.

  “Now, about the choreography…” Zuki’s voice trailed off before erupting with ideas for J-Club.

  And since there was nothing else Millie could do but wait, she joined in with her own ideas, too.

  * * *

  Millie had barely stepped through the door before her parents asked about her progress report. With the real one crumpled up somewhere in the bottom of the orchestra room trash can, Millie gave them the fake version. The version she hoped would keep her from being grounded.

  Their eyes scanned the piece of paper, and Millie searched them for doubt. But she couldn’t find any. Because Jane and Scott Nakakura weren’t expecting a lie. They trusted their daughter. They believed she’d always do the right thing.

  That was the part that stung most of all.

  She’d been so worried about disappointing her parents that she didn’t think about what it would feel like to be disappointed in herself.

  “You’re doing a great job.” Her mom smiled warmly. “Just try to work on that B, okay?”

  Her dad hummed. “You still have time to fix that before report cards come out.”

  “Okay, I will,” Millie said, burning her stare into the floor.

  It was one more lie to add to the rest.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Did you see it? Isn’t it amazing? And the poster is huge!” Zuki bounced on her toes several times before taking a seat at their usual lunch table.

  Millie slid her tray closer and picked up her fork. Macaroni and cheese, and definitely no coleslaw.

  Ashley was already there, eating a packet of chips. “How could anyone not see it?” they pointed out dully. “It’s practically the whole length of the courtyard.”

  It was true—the poster was impossible to miss. Brightside Academy wasn’t shy about advertising their school performances, and Pop Showcase was by far their biggest. It was the only performance that was open to every major and every grade in school. More than that, it was the only show where students got to have full creative control over their performance. They got to pick their song, outfits, choreography … They even got to talk to the tech majors about what kind of lighting they wanted.

  As long as the student could sing, they had a shot at being in the show.

  Millie was almost afraid to ask. “Are you thinking ab
out auditioning?”

  Zuki held up her hands like the answer was obvious. “We are auditioning!”

  A knot tightened in Millie’s stomach. More secrets. More lies. She felt queasy.

  “This school is full of choir and theater majors. Our little imitation band—if you can even call it that—doesn’t stand a chance,” Ashley pointed out.

  “So? All of us can sing,” Zuki argued. “And Luna is the best dancer in the school.”

  “But none of us can sing sing.” Ashley looked doubtful. “Not the way choir majors can.”

  Zuki was unruffled. “That doesn’t matter. Besides, Chiyo always sang most of the solos, and everyone else sang backup. We don’t need everyone to be as good as the lead.”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about yourself?” Ashley asked, and it sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  Zuki prickled, even though she kept smiling. “I mean, I am the president of J-Club.”

  Inside, Millie felt like she was prickling, too. The thought of having to keep another secret from her parents was making her panic. How could she possibly tell them she was auditioning for Pop Showcase when they had no idea J-Club even existed?

  “We’re still a member short, in case you’ve forgotten,” Ashley pointed out, and Millie felt a pang of relief.

  She wondered if it made her a traitor to want Zuki’s plan to fail before it even got off the ground.

  Zuki hardly reacted. “There’s still time. Besides, lots of groups have four members. We could make it work.”

  “Are you sure you’d even have four?” Ashley asked, eyeing Luna across the cafeteria. “We all know Luna will never agree to a public performance. It would jeopardize her popularity.”

  Zuki’s shoulders fell a little. Millie hated how much her heart felt like it was returning to safety. Zuki was her friend—she should be on her side.

  But her heart and her brain weren’t on the same page.

  “We don’t have to audition for Pop Showcase.” Millie tangled her fingers together. “We can still be an imitation band, even if the rest of the school doesn’t see us perform.”

  “You don’t know Luna would definitely say no,” Zuki countered, glaring stubbornly at Ashley. “It’s not like you two are even friends.”

  “We used to be,” Ashley said coolly. “But then she found other friends.”

  Millie could hear the rawness in their voice, but Zuki didn’t seem to notice at all. There were more important things to talk about.

  “She’ll say yes,” Zuki argued. “I’ll talk to her later. I’ll convince her to do the audition with us—you’ll see. She won’t let us down. She likes us.”

  “Kind of a big assumption to make, don’t you think?” Ashley said, unconvinced.

  “It’s not an assumption.” Zuki was unfazed. “Millie and Luna even hung out together outside of school.”

  Millie sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure Chinatown really counted as hanging out, even if they did have fun talking. It was brief. It wasn’t planned. And Ruby and Annabelle weren’t there.

  Maybe the rules were different outside of school.

  Ashley snorted. “If you’re so sure you know Luna better than me, why don’t you go and ask her right now?”

  Zuki instantly squared her shoulders, like she was ready to face any dare head-on. Millie’s eyes pleaded with her to reconsider. It didn’t feel right to put Luna on the spot. Especially when her only rule was that nobody else found out she was in J-Club.

  But Zuki ignored her.

  “Go on—ask her in front of her friends. You’ll see what I mean,” Ashley challenged.

  “Fine,” Zuki practically barked before moving across the cafeteria.

  “Wait—” Millie started, but it was too late.

  Zuki stopped in front of Luna’s table, and Ruby and Annabelle glanced up at her curiously. Luna looked positively terrified.

  “Um, do you need something?” Ruby asked, eyelashes fluttering with annoyance.

  But Zuki was confident. Maybe too confident. “Hey, Luna!”

  Annabelle stifled her laughter and turned to Luna. “Is this a new friend of yours?”

  Luna looked up at Zuki, eyes registering for only a flash of a second before her face went stoic. “No. I don’t know her.”

  Even from several yards away, Millie could see Zuki’s heart break.

  The other girls muttered words Millie couldn’t hear, but the laughter in their eyes spilled into the room. It wasn’t the kind of laughter that made you feel warm and safe. It was the sticky kind, black as tar, that latched on to your heart until it smothered it whole.

  Millie got out of her seat and started to take a few steps toward Zuki when she heard her voice again, a little shakier than it was before.

  “I was just wondering if you had the page numbers for tonight’s English homework. I forgot to write them down and we’re in the same class.” Zuki’s fists were balled at her sides.

  Luna’s gaze seemed to land everywhere except on Zuki. “Oh. I—I must’ve forgotten to write it down, too.”

  “It’s fine. Sorry to have bothered you,” Zuki said, her voice clipped and quick. She spun around and marched back toward Millie, who tried to stop her.

  “Are you okay?” Millie whispered.

  “Totally fine,” Zuki said, brushing past her and sinking into her seat.

  Millie could hear the lie. She was becoming familiar with them. But she sat down beside Zuki anyway, trying to think of something to say to make her feel better.

  But she couldn’t think of anything, and when she looked at Ashley, there wasn’t any satisfaction in their eyes.

  There was only sadness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Luna stepped through the orchestra room doors, her dance bag hanging from her shoulder. She ignored Ashley, who looked surprised to see her, and took a seat beside Zuki instead. “I’m really sorry about what happened in the cafeteria.”

  Zuki forced a smile. “It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m just glad you’re here.” If it weren’t for the edge in her voice, Zuki could have convinced anyone she had recovered completely. But Millie knew her giveaway—it was like playing a note on the flute and knowing it was just a little sharp. Someone untrained might not notice, but Millie wasn’t untrained. At the flute or at being Zuki’s friend.

  “You didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t know her,” Millie said quietly. “That was really mean.”

  Even though Luna looked guilty, she kept her posture straight. “I know. But I did ask you all to keep this a secret. I thought you understood.”

  “You told us not to tell anyone about J-Club. We didn’t think you meant we were part of the secret, too,” Millie pointed out. “And you did it in public. In front of the whole cafeteria. Friends don’t treat each other like that.”

  Zuki barely reacted. If she was grateful for the support, she was hiding it well.

  “You caught me off guard, that’s all,” Luna argued. “I hadn’t even had a chance to—to—” She opened her mouth, clamped it shut, and then opened it again, like she just couldn’t find the words.

  “Had a chance to warn your friends about us?” Ashley challenged. “Are you really so ashamed of us that you need to give them a disclaimer?”

  “It’s not like that,” Luna huffed, frustrated. “It’s got nothing to do with any of you personally. But you don’t understand. Ruby and Annabelle … We do everything together. We all go to Brightside, and the same dance school, and all the same competitions. I know they can be mean sometimes, but they’re not like that all the time. They’re still my friends. And I don’t know how they’ll react if they think I’m hiding something.”

  “But you are hiding something,” Ashley pointed out forcefully. “You’re hiding the fact that you listen to J-Pop. You’re hiding the club. You’re hiding us.”

  Luna flattened her mouth and turned to look at Zuki. “I really am sorry.”

  But Zuki didn’t get a
chance to reply.

  “Why can’t you just admit you’re embarrassed of the group?” Ashley looked as if someone had dented their armor. “Then at least we’d all know where we stand.”

  Luna’s eyes blazed. “Why are you always trying to make me look bad? What did I ever do to you?”

  “You’re making yourself look bad,” Ashley replied. “You care more about your image and your popular friends than you do about your friends in J-Club. Or maybe Zuki and Millie aren’t actually your friends at all.”

  “You mean you’re not my friend,” Luna shot back. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Believe me, I know, okay? You don’t have to keep reminding me. Besides, at least I have friends, which is better than what you do, which is not have friends at all!”

  Something shifted in Zuki’s eyes, like a switch turning off all the lights. She looked … absent, somehow. At first, Millie thought it was because of what Luna had done. But then she realized it was something else.

  Zuki didn’t like the fighting.

  “Um, Luna? Ashley? I think maybe we should lower our—” Millie started.

  But Ashley was already too out of orbit to hear her. “I’d rather have no friends than fake ones!”

  Luna’s eyes glistened. The hurt was building and building and building.

  If someone didn’t do something soon, Millie was afraid they’d both explode. And there’d be no going back.

  And maybe Zuki sensed it, too, because barely half a second passed before she was on her feet with her fists balled tight. “ENOUGH!” her voice boomed.

  Ashley and Luna blinked. Millie felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

  Zuki’s shoulders shook. “You two have to stop fighting.”

  “I was sticking up for you,” Ashley grumbled.

  Luna scoffed. “More like using it as an excuse to attack me. Again.”

  Zuki began waving her hands in the air before either of them could get another word out. “I already said I was fine, and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. But the way you two act around each other is not good for J-Club.” She glanced at Millie for backup.