Generation Misfits

by Akemi Dawn Bowman

  Rainbow’s expression was cracked in half. There was sadness there and so much fear.

  Millie touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

  Rainbow nodded once, twice, and then a breath exploded out of her. “I hate this cafeteria so much.”

  Ashley was still. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Millie said.

  Rainbow looked up meekly. “Can we go now? I—I’ll feel better once we’re rehearsing.”

  All of them stood up and hurried across the courtyard toward the theater. When they were safe inside and reunited with Zuki, they flooded the room with Generation Love and danced until their sides ached. Millie didn’t even mind that Zuki was acting even bossier than usual. It was a good distraction.

  Because Millie was struggling to push the image of Luna walking away from them out of her mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Millie’s fingers were sticky with glue. She wiped them on a paper towel; it left bits of paper stuck to her skin, but at least she could grab hold of the last Generation Love cutout without ruining the picture.

  She smeared another few lines across the back of the photo with a glue stick and then placed the picture carefully over her binder. Pressing down, she counted to five and sat back to admire her work.

  Her school binder was no longer covered in Pokémon. Instead, it was layered with stickers and magazine pictures of Generation Love (mostly Chiyo). In the center, surrounded by a rainbow heart identical to the one in Generation Love’s logo, was Millie’s name.

  Zuki will love this, she thought, and wished she could send her friend a text.

  There was a knock at the door, and Millie jumped up to turn the stereo down. It was her dad’s old one, and even though it looked ancient, it was a lifesaver when she didn’t have her phone for listening to music.

  Jane poked her head through the doorway. “Hey, sweet pea. Your dad and I were thinking about watching a movie. I’ve got popcorn and M&M’s ready to go. Want to join us?”

  Millie’s fingers felt tacky as she wove them together. “Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow your laptop? I wanted to practice a dance routine, but I need to see the music video to remember the steps.”

  Jane’s mouth turned downward. “A dance routine? Is this for school?”

  Millie shook her head. “No. It’s just for fun.” She waited for her mom to react with disapproval and to remind her that she was still grounded, but to her surprise, she didn’t.

  “Well, that sounds like good exercise. You can borrow my laptop. But make sure you bring it back downstairs when you’re done with it.” She paused, staring at the scraps of magazine pages and paper littering the carpet. “You really do love that group, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Millie said softly. “And so does Zuki. We both decided to redecorate our binders over the weekend.” She motioned to the spare rainbow heart in the corner. “I was going to ask her if she wanted me to make one with her name, too, but I forgot I didn’t have my phone. I might make it anyway and give it to her on Monday.”

  Jane leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been really good about keeping up with your homework. I think tutoring was a good idea.”

  Millie didn’t say anything, but she felt her mom watching her, like she was mulling something over. Finally, Jane spoke again.

  “Okay. You can have your phone back. But only over the weekends. And only as long as your grades stay up,” Jane said.

  Millie’s smile grew and grew. “Really? I’m not grounded anymore?”

  “You’re not not grounded,” Jane clarified. “But I think you’ve earned a few privileges back.” She smiled. “It’s in the drawer next to my laptop. And if you change your mind about the movie, we’ll be downstairs in the living room.”

  As soon as Jane left, Millie ran to the office. She didn’t bother with the laptop at all—she was too excited to have her phone back.

  When she was in her room, she plugged her charging cable in and sank onto the edge of the bed. Swiping her thumb against the screen, she immediately started to type a message to Zuki, but then she hesitated.

  It had been such a long time since she’d had the ability to communicate with her friends outside of school that she didn’t want to just text. She wanted to talk.

  So Millie hit the call button and waited for Zuki to pick up.

  There was a shuffle on the other end of the phone. “Hello?” Zuki’s voice sounded strange. It didn’t have the energy it usually did.

  “It’s me!” Millie exclaimed, and waited for the familiar sound of her friend’s voice. But it wasn’t there. “Oh. Hey.” Zuki paused, distracted. There was a lot of background noise that sounded like the television was on full blast on the other side of a wall. “You got your phone back.”

  “Only on weekends, but still,” Millie continued. Maybe Zuki was just tired. She’d probably feel loads better once Millie told her about the binder. “Guess what I’ve been working on all day?”

  Zuki shuffled again, like she was muffling the phone with her hand. It did nothing to hide the noise, but Millie didn’t mind. She was thrilled to finally have a way to reach her friend.

  When Zuki didn’t reply, Millie couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I decorated my binder! How does yours look? Did you cut out magazine photos? I used some, but a lot of the images were printed off the computer, because it’s hard to get magazine clippings of Generation Love, and a lot of the magazines I have were ones I didn’t want to ruin. And I was going to make you something, but you have to leave some room in the center of your binder, for your name!”

  The background noise grew louder, like the tremors of a bass building at a concert. A sudden thump carried through the phone.

  Millie frowned. “What was that?”

  “Um,” Zuki started, voice quivering. “It’s not really a good time. Can I call you back later?”

  Millie’s heart sank a little. She’d thought Zuki would be more excited to hear from her. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “But … is everything okay?”

  “Zuki!” someone shouted from behind a wall somewhere. “What did I tell you about locking this door?” The voice was guttural and loud. The person sounded angry. And Millie wondered if the background noise hadn’t been a television at all.

  “I gotta go. Bye,” Zuki whispered, and the call went silent.

  Millie waited for her to call back, but she didn’t. She sent a text instead, but Zuki never replied.

  After a while, Millie got back to work on the logo for Zuki’s binder and hoped that when she gave it to her on Monday, everything would feel like it was normal again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  When Zuki didn’t show up to school on Monday, Millie thought it was strange. She’d never been absent before. In fact, she was one of the only people Millie knew who missed being at school over the weekends.

  When Zuki didn’t show up to school on Tuesday either, Millie started to worry.

  On Wednesday during lunch, Luna stepped onto the theater stage with a raised eyebrow.

  “Still not here?” she asked.

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “My parents only let me have my phone back on weekends, so I can’t text her.” Millie squeezed her hands tight. “Do you think it’s something serious?”

  “I tried texting her—she hasn’t replied,” Ashley said.

  “Should we ask someone?” Rainbow looked around. “I mean, if she’s sick, maybe her teachers will know at least?”

  “Doesn’t she have, like, perfect attendance every year? She gets one every time they give out those awards at assembly. I doubt a cold would keep her away from school.” Luna frowned, dropping her bag near the others and sitting cross-legged beside Ashley. It wasn’t the first time they’d sat next to each other, but usually there was at least four feet of empty space between them.

  Judging by the way Ashley’s shoulders stiffened, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  “Luna’s right. Zuki loves being at school,”
Millie said. “Maybe it’s something more serious? Like the flu?”

  “Can’t you still text if you have the flu?” Rainbow asked.

  Luna and Ashley shrugged like they had no idea.

  “We should at least ask her teachers for her homework so she doesn’t fall behind,” Rainbow said quietly. “Maybe we could drop it off at her house. Then we’d also be able to check on her.” She turned to Millie. “Where does Zuki live?”

  “I—I’m not sure,” Millie admitted. Zuki had never invited her over before. In fact, she rarely talked about her home life at all. Was that strange?

  Ashley hadn’t told anyone their mom was a teacher, but Ashley had also made their stance on friendships and secrecy very clear. Zuki, on the other hand, was always an open book.

  Except maybe she wasn’t.

  “I’ll talk to my mom,” Ashley offered. “Maybe she’s heard something.”

  Nobody felt like rehearsing without Zuki.

  It just wasn’t the same without her.

  * * *

  Zuki didn’t show up to school on Thursday or Friday either. But on Saturday night, Millie got a text.

  Zuki: Hey! Did you hear that Chiyo is dating the lead singer from Hotaru? I’m OBSESSED!!!

  Millie: Where have you been? Are you okay?

  Zuki: Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be back on Monday! Okay, I’m sending you a photo of Chiyo and her boyfriend.

  Zuki: THEY’RE SO ADORABLE.

  Millie: But where were you all week? Were you sick? I was worried.

  Millie watched as a photo popped up, and then another, and another. It pushed their conversation out of view.

  Maybe that was the point.

  Millie didn’t want to keep asking about something Zuki clearly didn’t want to talk about, so she gushed about Chiyo’s new relationship with her and tried to forget all about it.

  Zuki returned to school on Monday, just like she’d said she would, and things went back to normal. She didn’t answer questions about where she had been or what had happened. And she didn’t explain why she had to see the school counselor three times in one week.

  But she was herself again. She seemed happy.

  So Millie didn’t push it.

  * * *

  In December, semester report cards arrived in the mail. Millie had a mix of As and Bs. She’d aced every single one of her exams.

  Her parents said there was still room for improvement, but Millie tried not to care.

  She was proud of herself. Prouder than she’d ever been when it came to flute.

  Mrs. Seo said people needed to advocate for themselves. Maybe that meant being kind to themselves, too.

  So Millie decided it didn’t matter if there was room for improvement. In that moment, she let her heart celebrate how far she’d come. She celebrated the friendships she’d built along the way. And she celebrated how, secret or not, J-Club was still alive and well.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Christmas in the Nakakura house was a big deal. Millie’s parents weren’t just festive—they were the only people she knew who actually got excited to see winter holiday decorations on sale in September.

  So by the time winter break came around, Jane and Scott were prepared.

  The house flickered with colorful lights, strings of candy canes, and paper snowflakes that twirled from the ceiling. Ornaments hung from the tree and covered every surface, lined with stretches of forest-green garlands and frosted pinecones. Rows of nutcracker soldiers sat on the mantel, and below them were three stockings. And scattered around the living room were ornaments that moved: a miniature train carrying sacks of toys, a tiny sleigh pulled by cartoon reindeer, and a doll-sized elf hammering at a toy bench. Nothing matched, but that was part of the fun. Part of the magic.

  Millie breathed in the smell of cinnamon and eggnog—another holiday staple in the Nakakura house.

  Jane lifted her head from the couch and smiled. “Merry Christmas Eve!”

  Millie smiled back and slumped onto one of the nearby chairs. “It smells good in here.”

  “Your dad is making French toast,” Jane said. “Want to watch a movie after breakfast?”

  Another Nakakura tradition was spending most of Christmas Eve watching movies. Usually old ones, too, like The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and The Witches. And of course they always watched at least one classic James Bond film, which Jane was forever arguing was not a proper holiday movie.

  Scott’s voice carried through from the kitchen. “I vote for Dr. No!”

  Jane rolled her eyes and laughed. “I vote for anything that isn’t James Bond!” She glanced back at Millie. “You can be the tie-breaker.”

  It was a weird feeling, being given a choice. It was a weird time of the year in general—her parents always eased off pressuring her to practice flute. Instead, they spent time singing along to holiday music and baking way too many sugar cookies.

  Maybe it would be too much to wish her parents would be like that all the time, but she wished there could at least be a happy middle.

  Millie’s phone buzzed. When she looked at the screen, she saw an incoming call from Zuki.

  “Hang on just a second,” Millie said before hurrying to the next room and pressing the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hey!” Zuki’s voice burst through the speaker. “I was sitting here watching music videos, and I realized that it’s been like a whole week since we had a rehearsal. Isn’t that weird? It feels like it’s been months! Anyway, what are you doing today? Want to come over for a sleepover?”

  Millie couldn’t understand the casualness in Zuki’s voice. “It’s—it’s Christmas Eve.” Maybe Zuki celebrated a different holiday. Or maybe she didn’t do winter holidays at all.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” Zuki said with a forced laugh.

  Millie thought back to the words everyone in J-Club had exchanged before parting ways for the holiday break. Rainbow’s family didn’t celebrate any particular holiday, but they still spent the break visiting family. Luna went to Disney World every year. Ashley’s mom always had a big family dinner. But Zuki never said anything about plans.

  Now Millie wondered if it was because she didn’t have any.

  “Do you not celebrate Christmas?” Millie asked.

  “I do, usually,” Zuki said, her voice distant for a moment before snapping back. “But I think my parents got confused this year. I take turns—one year with Mom, one year with Dad—but I think they assumed it was the other person’s turn. My mom is on vacation with her boyfriend, and my dad never came to pick me up. So there’s no tree up or anything. Luna’s so lucky—I wish I could go to Disney World for Christmas!”

  “Wait. You’re home alone?” Millie asked, suddenly alarmed. How could Zuki’s parents just forget about her like that? It was terrible even on a normal day, but on Christmas?

  “It’s fine,” Zuki said lightly. “I had money for pizza, and there’s still a ton of leftovers. Plus, ramen is supereasy to make, and we have a ton. Mom always buys them in bulk from Costco.” She paused. “Besides, it’s just three days, and then she’ll be back. I like having the house to myself.”

  “But … isn’t that kind of scary? And illegal?” Millie asked.

  Zuki laughed. “No way! About the scary part, not the illegal part. It probably is illegal. But it’s not scary! I’d rather be here than at my dad’s anyway.”

  Millie frowned. “Why?”

  “Oh, a lot of reasons, I guess. I can play the music as loud as I want when it’s just me. And nobody hogs the TV,” Zuki explained.

  Millie didn’t want to ask the question, but she felt like she had to. “Has this happened before? Your parents forgetting about you?”

  “Sometimes. I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.” Zuki sighed like she wanted to hurry along the conversation. “Anyway, you’re obviously busy. Sorry I forgot about Christmas! Call me if you get bored, okay? I’ll be home all day.”

  Before
Millie could reply, Zuki hung up. When Millie returned to the living room, her mom was crouched near the TV, rummaging through their DVD collection.

  “Your breakfast is on the table,” Jane said, looking up at Millie. “Who was that on the phone?”

  Millie folded her arms around herself. It didn’t feel right to leave Zuki alone. It didn’t feel safe. “That was my friend Zuki.”

  Jane smiled softly. “Is she enjoying her break?”

  “Not really,” Millie said slowly. “I think—I think her parents kind of forgot about Christmas. She seems lonely.” It was sort of true. Maybe they hadn’t forgotten about Christmas entirely, but they’d definitely forgotten about it when it came to their daughter.

  They’d forgotten Zuki.

  But if Millie told her parents that part, they might get involved. Zuki could get in trouble. And that was the last thing Millie wanted.

  “Oh dear,” Jane said with a genuine frown.

  Millie’s parents had always told her the holidays could be hard for a lot of people and that it was especially important to be kind. Maybe it was because everyone always associated winter holidays with family. It made people without families—or with difficult families—feel like they were missing something important.

  Millie didn’t know what was worse—to have a bad family or none at all.

  “Would it be okay if she came over?” Millie asked meekly. “Maybe she could sleep over, so she’d at least have people to celebrate with tomorrow?”

  Jane paused, and Millie was certain she was going to say no.

  Except she didn’t.

  “I don’t see why not, as long as it’s okay with her parents,” Jane offered.

  Millie blinked. “Really?”

  Jane set down the DVD case. “People should try to be kind around the holidays. You never know what people are going through.” She frowned. “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “No reason,” Millie blurted out quickly. She didn’t want to give her mom any reason to change her mind. “I’m going to call Zuki back right now.” And then she hurried to her room to tell Zuki the good news.