“She traded with me,” Elliot said.
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Sit down, Jenna. You’re blocking the table.”
I complied but scooted my chair away from Elliot.
Lucky for me we got busy almost instantly. We had a line of people waiting to buy Valentine’s Day treats. By an unspoken agreement, Elliot pitched and sold, and I handled the cash.
A slim hand with a perfect manicure and pale-pink-painted nails handed me a five-dollar bill. I looked up, and there was Audrey surrounded by her two new besties and three guys who hung back behind them. The girls wore matching pink sweaters.
“Jenna! How cute that you’re selling cookies,” Audrey said in what I knew was her fake-friendly voice. “Hi, Elliot!”
Elliot blinked at Audrey and her friends, and his cheeks flushed to match Audrey’s sweater. I snatched the money out of Audrey’s hand and shoved three dollars back at her.
“Too bad you’re single on Valentine’s Day,” Audrey said, flashing her eyes at Elliot meaningfully. I guess gossip traveled even from the outer rims of popularity to the inner circles. But I wanted to report the news; I didn’t want to be the news! And besides, I’d never cared about having a boyfriend the way Audrey did.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, my jaw clenched tight.
Audrey laughed. “Sure,” she said. Then she and her minions strutted away.
Fifteen minutes before the bell rang, we ran out of baked goods.
“If we can keep up sales like that, we’ll have enough to fund the paper easily,” Elliot said.
I gathered the leftover napkins.
“We make a good team, you and me,” Elliot said.
I straightened the cash and closed the box.
“I miss working with you.” Elliot moved his chair closer. “How is your scholarship article going? What were you working on again?”
“I didn’t say. What are you working on?”
Elliot smiled. “I have a lead on an interesting situation at school, but I’m still looking into it.”
I wasn’t surprised he was being vague. I wasn’t revealing anything to him, either.
“You’re going to do a great job, I’ll bet,” he said. “I can’t wait to see your story.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicion overtaking me. “I’m not showing it to you.”
“Why not? We always share our writing with each other.”
“We’re not together anymore!”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t work together. You’re the only one in the club who’s even close to being as good a writer as I am. There’s no reason we can’t help make each other’s stories better. Because one of us will win the PV Middle cash award for sure. Though, let’s face it, it will probably be me.”
Gah! Condescending. Why had I thought his confidence was an endearing trait?
“Aw, come on, Jenna, don’t be all angry.” Elliot reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a pink heart-shaped cookie. “Truce? Happy Valentine’s Day.”
What was he doing? We’d made fun of Valentine’s Day! Why give me a cookie? Why give me anything?
I bolted up and shoved the cashbox into Elliot’s arms, squishing the cookie against him. “Take this to Ms. Fontes.”
Then I spun on my heels and got out of there as fast as I could. I did not want to talk with Elliot. I did not want him to shower me with false praise. I did not want to hear his lies.
“Jenna! Wait!”
I shut out his voice as I sped up. I might have left him behind, but the anger followed me the rest of the day.
After school, Rin’s sketchbook tucked safely in my bag, I was determined to find him. I could go to the diner, but I’d been waiting all day. I wanted answers now! I headed to the front of the main building where pickup and drop-off was. I’d asked around and learned that he got a ride to and from school. That’s how he always beat me to the diner, the cheat!
Throngs of students milled around on the front lawn. I stood at the top of the steps, searching, thinking it would be impossible to find Rin in the crowd. But then I saw him—that black backpack, that confident saunter, those headphones. Rin.
I ignored the pounding of my heart and the fact that my face grew warm. I took off down the steps and speed-walked over to him, cutting him off as he approached a silver Lexus.
I stopped in front of him. He started to sidestep around me without even looking up.
“Rin,” I said loudly, just in case he was actually listening to music on his headphones.
That stopped him in his tracks. His eyes met mine, and my breath hitched.
“Did you get my email?”
“I got it,” he said in that low, arrogant voice.
“You didn’t answer.” I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out his sketchbook. “This is yours.” As Rin held out his hand, I continued. “But will you answer a few questions first?”
Rin shook his head. “You know what? I don’t want it.” He pushed past me and got into the car.
I stood there, watching the Lexus pull away, Rin’s sketchbook still in my hand.
When I got home, I went straight to my room. I pulled out Rin’s sketchbook and placed it on my desk.
If a real reporter got ahold of something that might help with an investigation, they wouldn’t hesitate. This sketchbook could reveal important information for my article. I ran my hand over the smooth black cover. I wasn’t breaking the law. Rin knew I had it. I’d told him I hadn’t looked at it, but that was then. Whatever I did with it now was fair game.
Still, my stomach did a weird dipping thing, like I was on a roller coaster. I took a deep breath and opened the book.
The first page was blank except for a date, December 17, which weirdly enough was the day Elliot and I broke up. I traced the date with my finger, recalling the anger that coursed through me as I walked home from school. But something had happened on the walk. For the first half, I was on the verge of either crying or screaming. But with every step that followed, I erased every feeling I ever had about Elliot. And by the time I got home, I felt hollowed—he was just … gone.
On the next page I saw a manga-style drawing of a guy and some sort of cute alien creature. It had pointy ears and antennae and floated on a disc. In fact, there were lots of superheroes and warriors, some with alien companions. They were pretty cool but all male. Every page was dated. Rin drew almost every day.
The page marked December 30 was a completely different style. Instead of a cartoon, it was realistic, and instead of black ink, it was drawn in pencil. A dinner scene. As I peered closer, I realized it was Rin’s family. I recognized his parents and sister from my online research. The whole drawing looked soft and warm. His parents were smiling as they looked at Rin’s sister, who seemed to be telling a story. One of her hands was waving. There was food on the table. I recognized a plate of tamago, my favorite Japanese-style omelet. But the dishes were fancy with intricate flower patterns and the glassware looked like crystal. Maybe it was Christmas dinner. Or maybe that’s how they ate all the time. I felt like I was peering into the window of Rin’s house. It made my heart ache—I never got to have family meals like that anymore. I stared at that page for a long time.
Then it was back to more of Rin’s manga drawings. A few pages later, I recognized the sketches he’d shown me at the diner. But then I saw something entirely different. Rin’s drawings were usually original. But this character I recognized immediately. It was Kagome, the female hero of the manga I had told Rin I’d read. The next five pages were filled with drawings of all the different girl characters from the series. Rin had started drawing them after I’d pointed out he only drew boys. It amazed me that he’d listened. And it made me feel weirdly happy.
The next page was Rin’s attempt to draw a female manga character of his own creation. It was a rough pencil sketch and looked a little like one of Rumiko Takahashi’s characters in modern clo
thing. Jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. As I turned the pages, the sketches grew more detailed and Rin stopped using pencil and switched to ink. It was kind of cool to see his process of creating a character.
When I turned to the next page, I froze.
I stared at an image of me. Not manga me but like that scene Rin had drawn of his family at the dinner table, a realistic drawing in pencil. I was sitting in the diner booth, staring down at my newspaper club notebook, my pen in motion, spinning in my hand. I stared at the page for so long that the drawing was going to be forever seared in my brain.
I lifted the next page, not sure what to expect. In this one, I was staring toward the door of the diner, my face in a scowl. Then came a drawing of me sipping my milkshake followed by one of me actually smiling, although it was more of a smirk. These drawings were sparse with little to no background, like he’d done a quick sketch and then worked on them later.
After that, the rest of the pages were of manga me. Finally, I got about halfway through the sketchbook, where tiny pieces of paper were caught in the spiral binding. This was the page he had ripped out and given to me for my birthday.
I felt the surprising joy of getting that gift from him all over again. And I started to realize that maybe he wasn’t the arrogant jerk I’d thought he was. He’d listened. He’d taken time and effort to draw female characters. And the tips of my ears got warm as I thought of all those sketches of me.
I was slightly offended at this invasion of privacy. How dare he draw me without permission. But I had to admit I was mostly flattered. Rin saw me. And he wasn’t asking anything of me other than to just be me.
Hmmm. For all the time we had spent together in the diner, I didn’t know much about him. Sure, he didn’t really know anything about me, either, but that was okay. He didn’t need to know anything about me. I, on the other hand, prided myself on being a great reporter. And reporters ask questions. I should have done a better job of getting to know Rin. If I had, I’d have known about his parents and the foundation already. And maybe more.
A wave of something dark roiled through me.
I’m not using him, I told myself. That’s not the kind of reporter I want to be.
But I should have been more curious and asked more questions. It’s how you treated friends. And even not-quite-friends like Rin.
I closed the book. I hated to be wrong, but I also respected the truth when I saw it. I had no right to hold Rin’s personal property hostage for my own gain. I shouldn’t have gone through his sketchbook. My newspaper club notebook wasn’t a diary, but I still wouldn’t want to share the contents with anyone. The thought of prying eyes made me angry. As much as I wanted information, I couldn’t force it.
And the truth—the real truth—was that I had to genuinely apologize to Rin, with no strings attached.
Mr. Kim didn’t seem happy to see me. No smile, just a weary wave of his hand to allow me into his office the next day.
“Thank you, Mr. Kim, for the lead,” I began with a big smile. “I found the Feed Schools Foundation.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad. Now do you have what you need for your article?”
“Just one more thing,” I said, not missing how Mr. Kim pressed his lips together like he was holding in a sigh. “I couldn’t find any mention of the PV Middle donation on the site.”
“That’s because the donation didn’t quite come through the foundation.” Mr. Kim sounded resigned, like I’d beaten him down. That made me feel triumphant. I had what it took to be a great investigative journalist!
I opened my notebook. My pen poised and ready, I nodded to Mr. Kim.
This time he did sigh out loud. I could almost read the thought bubble over his head—I give up. “It was a pet project. As you know by now, renovating cafeterias is not something the foundation does. Traci Watanabe is on the school board, so she knew we were trying to raise funds to replace our old kitchen equipment. She offered to cover the renovation personally. The foundation only paid for the expanded lunch program and additional kitchen staff.”
My pen flew across the page. This wasn’t at all what I was expecting. “What do you mean ‘expanded lunch program’? I thought the foundation only did that for Title I schools.”
Mr. Kim gave me an appraising look. “You are good at research, Jenna, I have to give you that much. It’s true that we aren’t a Title I school, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have students who are part of the free meal program. If not for the donation, we might have had to close our cafeteria down until we could afford to replace the kitchen equipment. Students who rely on the program would have had to go without.”
I scribbled everything he said into my notebook, my mind spinning. “If Traci Watanabe was doing something generous, why did she make the donation anonymous?” I asked.
“Because she didn’t want anyone to misunderstand the foundation’s purpose. They’re focused strictly on access to nutrition, not construction. But this is the middle school both the Watanabes and their kids attended, so they wanted to help.”
It was my turn to sigh. I twirled my pen.
“Jenna, I appreciate your hard work here,” Mr. Kim said. “What Traci and her foundation did was admirable. Her donation helped not only the school but students, particularly those on the lunch program.”
He stood. “The bell is about to ring. I wish you luck with your entry.”
This information changed everything. If what Mr. Kim said was true, the Watanabes hadn’t done anything wrong and my story was sunk. It would be hard to write about the donation without talking about how it had helped students in need, and feel-good stories didn’t usually win awards. But a reporter couldn’t just pick and choose facts to spin an article.
Still, I had to chase down every lead. Which meant I had to talk to one more person.
* * *
After school, I waited at the curb for Rin, shielded by a big magnolia tree. I was going to apologize and return his sketchbook. I’d gotten too competitive, and it had blinded me to the truth.
But at least I knew how to apologize! Unlike Elliot, who never thought he was wrong. I still couldn’t believe he’d wanted to spend time with me at the bake sale, as if everything would be forgiven and forgotten. He’d never apologized for being pushy and condescending. Or for taking credit for work that wasn’t his. Or for abandoning me.
I waited and waited, but the Lexus never showed up. Of course, it didn’t. This day was the worst. I texted Keiko to let her know I wouldn’t be making it to the park to watch the boys’ basketball game. I’d been canceling on her a lot lately. But I’d make it up to her once I was done writing this article. If I ever wrote this article. It wasn’t looking good for me right now.
I went to the diner. My booth was empty. Disappointment filled me.
“Jenna!” Leigh hurried over, a smile on her face. “It’s good to see you. I was starting to worry about you two.”
“Worry?” I stood in the middle of the diner. “Where’s Rin?”
“He hasn’t been in since you two had your spat,” Leigh said, wringing her hands. “I hope he’s okay. Do you want your usual shake?”
“Sure, thanks. And some cheesy Fetch Fries, too?” I would wait. Maybe Rin would still show up. In the meantime, I’d write up some questions to ask him now that I had new information.
But it was hard to focus. I kept glancing over to where Rin usually sat and then remembering that I was alone.
I sipped my shake and nibbled on the cheesy fries. While they still tasted good, it wasn’t the same, eating by myself. Could it be that I missed Rin? I didn’t even know him. How could I miss someone I wasn’t friends with?
Caring about people only led to getting hurt. My parents showed me that big-time. And Elliot had reinforced it. Why did I keep thinking about him? Gah! I blamed it on the bake-sale fiasco.
I finished all my homework and even read ahead in my social studies textbook. When I was done, I left cash on the table and packed up.
<
br /> “You’ll be back, right?” Leigh asked.
“Of course.” It felt hypocritical to stop coming just because Rin wasn’t here. I’d wanted the booth to myself, and now I had it. Be careful what you wish for.
I was struck by a wave of loneliness. Being alone was good, but only when it was by choice. Could it be I was making bad choices? I was so confused.
On my walk home, I texted Keiko.
Keiko responded immediately.
Keiko didn’t ask if I was going to apologize and make up. She didn’t give me grief for wanting to interrogate him for my article. If I told her what Mr. Kim had revealed, she’d never say “I told you so.” She was always there for me. And even though I pushed her away, I didn’t want her going anywhere. She was pretty much the only person I could count on.
Keiko sent a thumbs-up and a heart emoji.
I got home and pulled out my key, but when I went to insert it into the lock, I heard something I hadn’t heard in a long time. I pressed my ear to the door. Yep. It was Mom. Shouting. Angrily.
I turned the key and opened the door a crack. Her voice blasted from the kitchen.
“It’s a school night! Do you hear me? This is rude and selfish! Why are you springing it on me now?”
Um. Okay. She used that voice with only one person. I thought I’d never have to hear her yell like that again after Dad moved out. I sighed. I might as well go inside. It wasn’t like she was going to get off the phone anytime soon.
Just as I nudged the door open a crack, I heard Dad’s voice.
“Beth, just calm down.”
I flung open the door and slammed it behind me as I kicked off my shoes. My left shoe flew off and banged into the wall. I ran into the kitchen.
There was Mom, standing at the stove, her arms crossed and her face in an angry scowl. And there was my dad. Not on speakerphone. In person.
“Jenna!”
Dad’s smile was like a million hugs, if we were a hugging kind of family.
Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Page 11
