Generation Misfits

by Akemi Dawn Bowman

  “Do you get anything for it? Like extra credit?” Millie asked.

  “No, but I get to skip dance class today, which seemed like a good idea at the time,” Luna replied.

  “But I thought you loved dance,” Millie said, surprised.

  Luna widened her eyes. “Oh, I do! It’s my favorite thing in the world. But…” She looked around the quad like she was worried someone might overhear. “Ruby’s mom is a co-owner of the studio, so Ruby thinks that makes her the queen bee. And lately it just feels like more of a clique than a dance school. It’s kind of been taking the fun out of it.”

  Millie could sense her flute nearby like a ghost, haunting her. “I feel that way about music. Not the clique part, but the part about it not being fun anymore. I kind of miss the days when flute was something that was just for me.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Luna paused, thoughtful. “But do you know what helped me? Finding a way to dance outside of school and classes that was just fun again. Like rehearsing with J-Club.” Her face soured. “Though now that Zuki is acting so strangely, that’s not really the same anymore either.”

  Millie’s chest tightened. “You noticed that, too.” It wasn’t a question.

  “How could anyone not?” Luna pursed her lips. “She argues about everything these days. I have English with her, and she even started talking back to the teacher.”

  Millie frowned. That didn’t sound at all like the Zuki she knew. “I know she’s been acting a little different since we got back from the holiday break…”

  Luna’s eyes softened. “I’m pretty sure whatever is up with Zuki has been going on way before the holidays. I think she’s just getting worse at hiding it.”

  “You think Zuki’s hiding something?” Millie felt dizzy. That couldn’t be right. Zuki was her best friend. She might not have wanted to talk, but that didn’t mean she was hiding something.

  Was she?

  Luna’s eyes darted between Millie’s, searching for something. And then she sighed. “All I know for sure is that most students don’t go to the counselor’s office as many times as Zuki does unless they’re in trouble or something is going on with them personally.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Millie’s worry roiled through her. “Every time I ask if everything’s okay, she says she’s fine and changes the subject.”

  “You can’t make someone talk who doesn’t want to,” Luna replied.

  “I guess so,” Millie said quietly. And then she lifted her shoulders hopefully. “But you still like being in J-Club, right?”

  “Of course I do,” Luna said seriously. “Hanging out with you all is my favorite part of the week.” She looked back over her shoulder and made a face. “I better go. Who knows where they’ve put those banners at this point.” She flashed a warm smile toward Millie and hurried back up the stairs. “See you tomorrow! Good luck with tutoring.”

  Millie waved and carried on past the quad.

  * * *

  “This is fantastic, Millie. Well done,” Mrs. Seo said after she finished reading Millie’s essay. She handed the stapled pages over and folded her arms together, turning to Ashley, who was casually adjusting their tie. “And how’s your essay coming along?”

  Ashley scratched the back of their neck. “Technically we’re still on school hours, and since you aren’t my teacher and I’m only here as a volunteer, I don’t think I should have to answer that right now.”

  Mrs. Seo sighed, eyes full of humor. “Mm-hmm. Clever.” She turned to Rainbow. “What about you? Or are you only here as a volunteer, too?”

  Ashley snorted. “Rainbow’s going to be valedictorian one day. She doesn’t need tutoring.”

  Rainbow blushed darkly. “I—I don’t mind if you want to read my essay.”

  Mrs. Seo let out a gentle laugh. “Sounds like you’ve already got it covered.” She leaned against her desk, just as Ashley stood up to grab another cookie from the nearly empty plate. “So how are rehearsals coming along? Ashley tells me you’re all very busy preparing for Pop Showcase.”

  “Yes, very busy,” Rainbow squeaked, looking at Millie for an extra word or two.

  Millie nodded in agreement. “We’ve been trying to perfect the choreography. We thought we’d go with the official dance moves, but now…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of Zuki’s sudden changes. Not only had she convinced the group to change the choreography to one of the live-performance versions, but now she wanted them to change up the song entirely.

  To say it was causing friction would be an understatement.

  Mrs. Seo hummed. “You’ve all been working so hard. I bet everyone could use a little break. Maybe you could take an afternoon off to do something fun?”

  Millie felt an ache spreading through her chest. J-Club was supposed to be fun. But it didn’t feel the same as it used to.

  “Zuki is a tyrant,” Ashley mumbled through bites of cookie. “I don’t think she knows how to have fun when it doesn’t involve bossing everyone around.”

  “That’s not true,” Millie said quickly, feeling like she had to defend Zuki.

  But Ashley was unfazed. “Yes, it is. She’s always liked being in charge, but she’s taking it to a new level. The other day she even tried to lecture Luna on her dancing.”

  “She’s probably just getting stressed out about the performance. It means a lot to her,” Millie tried.

  Ashley crossed their arms. “I’m not the only one who thinks Zuki is being too controlling.”

  Millie paused before turning to Rainbow.

  “Um—I don’t—I’d rather you left me out of it,” Rainbow managed to say through quick, terrified breaths.

  “We all feel the same way,” Ashley pointed out. “Even Luna.”

  Millie chewed her lip, glancing between them and at Mrs. Seo, who had mostly made herself busy with paperwork to give them the illusion of space. “I’ll talk to her. I know Zuki doesn’t mean it. She just wants the group to do well.”

  Millie waited for one of them to agree, but they didn’t. Ashley went back to eating their cookie. Rainbow seemed intensely preoccupied with the grooves of the desk.

  Eventually they all started talking again. But not about J-Club. And definitely not about Zuki.

  Millie hoped it was a phase that would end sooner rather than later.

  And maybe talking to Zuki herself was the only way to make things right.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Millie couldn’t stop thinking about what her friends had said. The conversation she needed to have with Zuki would be uncomfortable, but it had to be done. And Millie had to be the one to do it.

  She just wasn’t quite ready yet.

  Millie was sitting on her bed, flicking through her Instagram feed and avoiding talking to anyone at all when she spotted the newest post from Chiyo. Generation Love had its own main group page, but all the members had individual social media accounts, too. And Chiyo—even though she was arguably the most popular—only updated her account a few times a month.

  The latest photo was of Chiyo holding a violin. The caption was in Japanese, so Millie clicked the button to translate the words into English.

  It has been many years since I’ve picked up my violin. Thank you, old friend, for reminding me that music is and always will be my whole heart.

  Millie stared hard at the picture and spotted the sheet music off to the side. Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor.

  Chiyo liked classical music?

  Millie’s heart thrummed. She’d had no idea. Chiyo had never mentioned it in an interview before, and she’d certainly never seen any videos of her playing an instrument.

  Millie had so many questions she didn’t even know where to start. How old was Chiyo when she first started playing the violin? Had she loved it from the very beginning? And what made her stop playing for so many years?

  But all Millie’s wondering didn’t stop her from opening up a new browser window and searching for Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor violin so
los.

  She watched video after video, letting the sad, beautiful melody draw her in, until she felt like she was on a cloud drifting toward another world. When she ran out of videos, she hesitated, thumbs hovering over her screen. And then she typed:

  Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor flute solos.

  When the sound poured through the speaker, she closed her eyes tight and leaned against her headboard. Normally the sound of the flute made her chest tighten and her throat go dry, like her body was rejecting the noise. But none of that happened this time.

  All she heard was something wonderful.

  And it was nice to think that in her own small way, she had a connection to Chiyo. They had both grown up playing classical music. Chiyo probably took lessons and studied music in school. Maybe her parents made her practice every day.

  Maybe there was even a time when she had hated it, too.

  When the song ended, Millie opened her eyes, her gaze drifting over the room until it landed on her flute case.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what made her set her phone down and reach for her instrument. And she wasn’t entirely sure why she had such an itch to dig through her old sheet music in search of any Chopin.

  But she found it. A hidden gem in a book of flute arrangements. One she’d heard before, but had never practiced. Never wanted to practice.

  But this wasn’t practice. It was just for fun. For her. Maybe that was what made all the difference.

  She set the music on her stand, put her flute to her lips, and played the first note.

  * * *

  On the bus, Millie squeezed the key chain Zuki had made her between her fingers. It reminded her of the early days, when the thought of J-Club rehearsals filled her with hope rather than dread.

  The bus pulled up to the curb, and Millie slid her backpack over her shoulders to follow the trail of students outside.

  Zuki was waiting near the main gates like she always was, waving excitedly when she spotted Millie on the sidewalk. At least she seemed like she was in a good mood.

  Millie’s smile felt unnatural. “Hey. I was hoping to see you this morning.”

  “You see me every morning!” Zuki narrowed her eyes. “Oh, before I forget, we need to have a serious conversation about J-Club.”

  My thoughts exactly, Millie’s mind hissed.

  Zuki wagged her finger like she was giving a lecture. “I think it’s time we reinstate our meetings after school. We could do three days a week instead of just the one. And maybe Luna can finally ask about using the dance studio. I’m thinking Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday? Obviously we have to talk to the others, but if we’re going to do well at Pop Showcase, we have to do this.”

  Millie felt weak. “But I’m grounded, remember? I can’t stay after school.”

  “You stay after for tutoring,” Zuki said simply. “Just come to J-Club instead!”

  “What? No!” Millie’s voice was clipped. “I can’t do that. My parents would be furious if I lied again. They still don’t even know about our band.”

  Zuki pushed out her lip. “You won’t even try? This is J-Club we’re talking about. We promised to make it the best it could possibly be!”

  Millie didn’t remember promising anything like that. “I’m really sorry, Zuki, but I can’t stay after school. Not without asking, and I can’t ask without risking even our lunch rehearsals. Besides, Luna can’t get us the dance room. Ruby and Annabelle still don’t know she’s in J-Club.”

  Zuki let out a noise, frustrated. She tapped her foot against the pavement. “Well, that’s not good enough! I’m going to have to call an emergency meeting and set up some new rules.”

  Millie winced. “Please don’t do that. I think—I think everyone is kind of feeling like there are a lot of rules already.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuki challenged, and very quickly Millie realized all the joy had fizzled out of her voice. It had been replaced with hurt.

  And Millie just didn’t have it in her to keep pushing. She missed her friend and she wanted her back. Even if it meant going easy on her.

  “Nothing. I only meant we’re all practicing so hard, and I’m worried about stressing everyone out even more,” Millie said quickly.

  Zuki relaxed. “Hmm. Well, if practice goes as badly this week as it did last week, I’ll have to say something. And as vice president, you’re going to have to back me up.” She spun quickly and marched through the courtyard.

  Millie trailed close behind, watching Zuki’s matching key ring swing back and forth like a pendulum. It no longer felt like a sign of their friendship.

  It felt like a responsibility that was getting heavier and heavier to hold on to.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Zuki became more like lightning than electricity. Once she snapped at Luna for missing an intro, even though everyone knew it was Zuki who’d messed up. She seemed to talk over everyone, all the time, like she was the only person in the world who existed. And sometimes she’d start shouting about new ideas, and changing songs, and switching the dance choreography, like it was as easy as plucking a card from a deck and placing it somewhere else.

  She didn’t just make suggestions—she gave orders.

  “This isn’t working.” Zuki marched over to her phone and paused the music. “Ashley, you’re way too close to Millie, and Millie, you aren’t hitting the pose right.” She attempted to demonstrate. “It needs to be bigger! Think about how Chiyo is onstage.”

  “Now we’re supposed to be like Chiyo?” Ashley muttered under their breath. “Yesterday you told us we were upstaging you.”

  If Zuki heard them, she pretended not to. “And Luna, you’re a little pitchy. It’s making it hard for me to concentrate.”

  Luna looked genuinely embarrassed.

  Zuki turned to Rainbow. “You too, Rainbow. The harmonies need to be perfect, and they’re just not there yet.”

  Rainbow’s face turned bright red.

  Ashley crossed their arms, defensive on behalf of the group. “Are you kidding me? You think Rainbow is pitchy? She’s the best singer in the room by a long shot.”

  Zuki tensed. “I’m the lead singer. Your voices are supposed to be complementing mine.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Ashley bit back. “If you let Rainbow sing lead, we might actually have a chance at not embarrassing ourselves onstage.”

  “This is my group,” Zuki barked, eyes flashing. “I make the rules.”

  Ashley narrowed their eyes, and Rainbow shrank even farther into herself. All Millie wanted was for Zuki to go back to normal. The Zuki who yelled at her friends and bossed people around and was taking all the fun out of J-Club was a stranger.

  Luna crossed her arms. “Nobody here signed up to follow anyone’s ‘rules,’ Zuki. This is supposed to be fun.”

  “It is fun,” Zuki argued. “But none of you are listening to me. We need to be amazing, and what we’re doing isn’t working.”

  “It’s you who isn’t working,” Ashley said. “You just don’t want to see it.” Zuki’s nostrils flared, but Ashley didn’t stop. “Pop Showcase is mostly full of choir and theater majors. We’re already the odd group out, and we’re going to stand out even more if we don’t have a strong lead singer. And I’m not saying you’re a terrible singer, but Rainbow is clearly better. Don’t we want the best shot at not getting laughed off the stage?”

  “I—I never said—” Rainbow sputtered, too frantic to finish her sentence.

  Zuki’s entire body seemed to shake. “There wouldn’t even be a band if it wasn’t for me! If you don’t like it, go start your own!”

  Millie’s ears burned. “I—I thought we were all in this together.”

  Zuki looked at Millie like she didn’t fully understand what she was talking about. But instead of trying to, she turned on Luna next. “This is your fault. You’ve been hurting the group because you keep missing rehearsals. Because you still won’t tell Ruby and Annabelle about J-Club. You’re making it impossi
ble for us to improve.”

  Luna opened her mouth to argue, but Ashley jumped to her defense.

  “This isn’t Luna’s fault. You’ve been treating us like garbage for weeks, ever since we came back from winter break. And I know you might be going through something, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a bad friend.”

  Luna looked surprised. Ashley was usually the one arguing with her, not defending her.

  Zuki balled her fists. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to fix J-Club. I’m trying to do what’s best for all of us.”

  “No, you’re not.” Ashley shook their head stubbornly. “All you care about is controlling everybody. If you really wanted what’s best for the band, you’d do the right thing and let Rainbow sing lead.”

  “But this is my—” Zuki sputtered.

  “This isn’t the Zuki Showcase,” Ashley interjected.

  Zuki’s eyes began to well up, but when Millie reached for her, she pulled away. Her voice was nearly inaudible. “I need this.”

  “What do you mean?” Millie asked, desperate to put her friends back together. Back to how they were.

  But Zuki’s eyes flashed too suddenly. “If you’re going to take my spot, then you can do the whole show without me. I don’t care anymore—I quit.”

  She stormed out of the auditorium without another word.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Millie waited for Zuki after class, but she never showed up. She couldn’t find her near the bus stop either, or during lunch the next day. And Zuki wasn’t the only one involved in a disappearing act; Rainbow and Luna had been avoiding everyone since the fight, too.

  It didn’t make sense. Everything was falling apart. And Millie knew why Zuki was mad, but Luna? Rainbow? Millie had seen Ashley at lunch, but they’d hardly said a word to each other.

  Had Millie done something wrong? Is that why so many of her friends were avoiding her?

  She had to find out. Because the not knowing was torture.