Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai

by Debbi Michiko Florence

  Caitlin nodded. “Does this mean you want to do one with me?”

  “Maybe just one? To see how it goes?” I was doodling every day and was having a blast.

  “You got it!” Caitlin said.

  As I pulled out my newspaper club notebook, I felt warm inside. I glanced across the room at Elliot, who looked up just as my eyes landed on him. I nodded and turned back around in my seat to face my friends. No matter what happened with the scholarship or whatever assignments Ms. Fontes handed out next year, I belonged here.

  * * *

  On Tuesday, after telling Keiko what I was up to and knowing she’d be more than fine with me skipping out on the guys’ basketball game, I made my way to the burger joint’s parking lot.

  “Hey, Tate,” I said.

  He smiled at me through the open window. It was finally getting warm, and flowers were blooming everywhere. Mom’s allergies were totally acting up.

  “Waiting for Rin?” Tate asked.

  I nodded just as I saw Rin crossing the street toward the parking lot. I started walking toward him. My heart did a weird skipping thing.

  “Sakai,” he said when he reached me.

  “Rin.”

  We stood on the corner, the current of students flowing around us to get burgers after school. If they only knew about Leigh’s diner, they wouldn’t settle for mediocre fries.

  “I want to renegotiate our terms,” I said.

  “Do you now?”

  “Yep. I want to ask personal questions, and I want you to answer. And I want you to ask me questions.”

  “Cool.” Rin started walking, and I followed. When we got to the car, Rin opened the back door and waved me in.

  “So,” I said to clarify, “I can ask you anything I want to?”

  “Like I could stop you,” he said with a grin.

  When we got to the diner, Leigh brought us our chocolate-strawberry shakes and cheesy fries; then Rin took out his sketchbook and I took out mine. Our eyes met, and I could tell he wanted to ask me something. I shrugged a very Rin-like shrug.

  “They’re just doodles,” I said.

  “Can I see?”

  I passed the slim sketchbook to him. I was nervous about showing him my drawings but not because I thought he’d make fun or be critical. I knew he wouldn’t. I trusted him. But deep down, I wanted him to like them.

  He flipped the book open and found my bubble tea character. On the next page was the pat of butter dancing with a toast. I stopped looking at the pages and instead watched Rin’s face. His eyes scanned each drawing, and a smile played on his lips. Not like he was about to laugh at me or anything, but like he was entertained. My eyes traveled along the long lashes behind his glasses to the curve of his cheek to the jut of his jaw.

  Rin closed the book and looked up at me. “I love these!”

  “Really?”

  “Not quite what I expected,” Rin said. “These are sweet and funny and kawaii.”

  He used the Japanese word for “cute.” “Oh, I get it. And I’m none of those things.” I smiled to let him know I was joking.

  He smiled back. “You’re all those things.”

  My heart hammered.

  “So, Sakai,” Rin started.

  “Call me Jenna. Please.”

  “Jenna.” He said my name softly. My heart did a stupid skip. Maybe I needed to go to the doctor to get it checked out. “Do you want to go with me to open mic night?”

  “Ah, I can’t.”

  His smile faded.

  “Wait! I mean, yes, I want to go. I am going. But I’m already getting a ride there with my friend.”

  “Isabella?” Rin asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can we hang out after? Tate can give you a ride home.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “It’s a date, then.”

  “A date?”

  His eyes met mine, and he smiled. “A date.”

  A warmth spread through me and wrapped around me like a blanket. And then another thought popped into my head, and before I could smack it away, I let the words come tumbling out of my mouth. “Do you want to meet my friends?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. Adorable.

  “I was thinking of inviting them here tomorrow. If that’s okay.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Humming to himself, Rin opened his sketchbook and started drawing, and I did the same. But I couldn’t doodle any of my usual things. My pen seemed to have a mind of its own as I drew happy face after happy face. At least I didn’t draw any silly hearts. I turned to a fresh page before Rin saw what I was doing, but when I peeked up at him, he was watching me.

  And smiling.

  “Dude, this banana shake is … bananas!” Doug said, shooting a straw wrapper across the crowded booth.

  Conner retaliated with his own straw wrapper, nailing Doug between the eyes, making the guys burst out laughing.

  Teddy bit into his hamburger, juice running down his chin. Keiko passed him a napkin and returned to drinking her Chocolate Shake Where It Happens. Leigh had outdone herself today with songs for each of the orders. Everyone had burst into spontaneous applause without any prompting.

  Like we had every day since my friends started joining us at the diner, Rin and I sat in the middle of our corner booth, our knees pressed against each other. Keiko, Conner, and Teddy were wedged in next to me. On the opposite side, Isabella nibbled on non-cheesy Fetch Fries while Doug nursed his shake, the two of them excitedly talking about a new Battle of the Bands video game.

  “I don’t think you two will ever have this booth to yourselves again,” Keiko told me.

  “I think you’re right,” I said with a happy smile. After I’d invited everyone to hang at the diner, they’d started showing up regularly after basketball. Isabella and I walked here after newspaper club.

  I reached across Rin’s sketchbook to grab a fry, but before I could, he took my hand and wrapped his fingers around mine. I glanced at him, but he just kept drawing with his left hand. I could barely believe it when he placed our joined hands on the table between us. In front of everybody. Keiko grinned at me, waggling her eyebrows. I used my free hand to snag the last Fetch Fry from the plate we were sharing.

  It was nice to be surrounded by my friends. Rin still sketched in his book, and to everyone’s delight, he started drawing manga characters of them.

  Tomorrow he was coming over to my dad’s place. We’d decided to work on a manga together. Not for anyone else but ourselves. Sometimes it was okay to just do things for fun.

  And sometimes you needed to follow through. I’d sent my scholarship application entry to Ms. Fontes just in time to meet the deadline. It had taken me a long time to find the story I wanted to tell. It wasn’t about winning or digging up dirt or proving anything. But it was about exposing the truth. My personal truth.

  And I thought it was a pretty good story.

  Lessons from Heartbreak

  By Jenna Sakai

  Heartbreak is for suckers. That was my motto, and I swore by it. Until I didn’t.

  My family is good at building walls. Instead of talking about things that matter, we spent most of my life talking around them. Each word we didn’t say was a brick stacked between us. And we built those walls up until there was no way to get through them.

  When I was nine years old, my parents stopped loving each other. They yelled and screamed and fought. All the time. When I was eleven, they got a divorce. My dad moved halfway across the country. And my mom didn’t yell anymore, but she didn’t talk much either—at least not about anything that mattered.

  I was so angry that I did exactly what I’d seen them do a hundred times. I built a wall around myself to keep them—and everyone else in the world—from ever hurting me again. I thought I didn’t need anyone. That caring only led to pain. That facts were safer than feelings.

  That was part of the reason I want to be an investigative reporter. I love solving a puzzle, doing my research, and if I’m ho
nest, being a little nosy. I admire the journalist’s sense of objectivity and communicating the unbiased truth. But I thought being objective meant not having feelings. I’ve recently learned that I wasn’t objective at all. Not about my parents or my classmates or the exposé I was planning on entering in this competition. I had preconceived opinions about almost everything, and none of them were good. I let those judgmental opinions color my thoughts and affect the stories that I wrote. Worse, I pushed everyone in my life away.

  Lately I’ve been hiding at a diner not far from school. When I first discovered it, I thought it was just about perfect because it was mostly empty and nobody I knew went there. I could sit in my booth, alone, eat junk food, and work on all the articles I wanted to write and the truths I wanted to tell. But then, one day, someone snuck into my booth. And he had just as many walls built up as I did. The more I got to know him, the more I realized that being alone can be really lonely. And that making assumptions instead of talking about what’s really going on doesn’t help anyone.

  But my walls are starting to crumble. I’m lucky to have a lot of people in my life who care about me. My best friend is patient when I’m being stubborn. My dad—who moved back to town recently—listened when my anger at him finally blew up, and we shared the first honest conversation we’ve had, maybe ever. My mom sees how hard things have been for me and is making small changes in her attitude that make a big difference. I have teachers who want me to be the best version of myself I can be, whatever that looks like. My friends make me laugh, get me to try new things, and tell me when I’m wrong. And that guy from the diner? He’s turning into someone very special to me. All these people have been chipping away at my defenses without me even realizing it.

  Now it’s up to me to do the hardest work. I’m trying my best to demolish the walls, brick by brick, word by word. It’s going to take time, but I’m learning. And I’m going to start by letting myself feel every sad, angry, joyful, anxious, scary feeling I have. It’s the only way I’ll ever become the person I want to be—a good daughter, a good friend, and hopefully a good writer.

  Heartbreak isn’t for suckers. It only means that I have a heart to break. I thought I needed walls to protect mine because it was fragile. But my heart is way sturdier than I ever thought.

  I don’t need walls. Yes, letting people in means risking heartbreak. It takes courage. But I’m strong enough to handle it.

  As someone who had a long road to publication, I am familiar with heartbreak. Fortunately, I am blessed with an amazing community.

  This book would not have been possible without my awesome editor, Jenne Abramowitz—thank you for asking for a sequel to Keep It Together, Keiko Carter and for being excited about a companion novel. Thank you also for your guidance in making this a much better book. You took my words and helped me blend them into a delicious shake of a story. You get me. You really get me!

  To Tricia Lawrence, thank you for believing in my work and in me. You are a superb agent, fabulous NYC travel companion, and wonderful friend. Let’s keep making dreams come true!

  To trusted readers for insightful feedback, thank you Andrea Wang, Kristy Boyce, Jasmine Perry, Cindy Faughnan, and Jo Knowles—you all make me a better writer. Much gratitude to cheerleaders Josie Cameron, Jason June, Daphne Benedis-Grab, and Susan Tan for talking me off ledges. Big hugs to my EMLA family. Special thanks to Leigh Bauer for sharing her knowledge of Broadway shows and all things teen.

  I am overjoyed to be part of the Scholastic family. A warm thank-you to the Sakai squad, including Shelly Romero, Abby McAden, Jordana Kulak, Rachel Feld, Julia Eisler, Josh Berlowitz, Janell Harris, Nikki Mutch, and the whole sales team—your support and assistance mean the world to me. For the fabulous cover and book design, thank you Stephanie Yang, Yaffa Jaskoll, photographer Michael Frost, and cover model Zoe Manarel.

  To everyone who loved Keiko Carter, thank you for reading and sharing. Thank you, Alexandra Devlin at RightsPeople for foreign sales. Big thanks to Dennis Stephens, bon vivant at EMLA, for all you do. Much appreciation to my friends and the kidlit community, with a special shout-out to the Asian community for letting me know how much it means to see yourselves/your readers reflected in my stories. Gratitude to the Highlights Foundation and SCBWI, and to Sara Zarr and Jenn Laughran for friendship and encouragement when I was starting out. To teachers, librarians, and booksellers everywhere, thank you for putting books into readers’ hands.

  While Jenna wasn’t willing to admit that her love for Japanese curry was in part sentimental, I am. Japanese curry reminds me of my late father, Denta Hirokane. Now I share the love of this dish with my daughter.

  And always, a big thank-you to my family: my husband, Bob Florence; my daughter, Caitlin Masako Schumacher; my stepson, Jason Florence; my parents, Bob and Yasuko Fordiani; my sister and her family, Gail Hirokane, John Parkison, and Laurel Parkison; and the rest of my relatives and the Florence family for all the enthusiastic support. I love you all!

  Debbi Michiko Florence is the author of Keep It Together, Keiko Carter, a Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection and New England Book Award finalist, and the Jasmine Toguchi chapter books. A third-generation Japanese American and native Californian, Debbi lives in Connecticut with her husband, rescue dog, rabbit, and duck. Visit her online at debbimichikoflorence.com.

  ALSO BY DEBBI MICHIKO FLORENCE

  Keep It Together, Keiko Carter

  Read on for a sneak peek at Debbi Michiko Florence’s next novel, Sweet and Sour

  Memories are funny things. They have a life of their own, bubbling up when you least expect them. And once they unfurl before your eyes, there’s almost nothing you can do to stop them.

  Some memories are sweet, the kind you are happy to replay in your mind. They make you smile and your heart skip. You want to curl up with those memories and snuggle them. But there are sour memories, too. Sharp, painful ones that make you flinch and your heart curdle. Like I said, you can’t control the kind of memories that appeared. So it was better not to remember them at all.

  Sometimes, though, it just happened. Like when the plane touched down on the runway, and I jolted awake. We were back in Mystic, Connecticut where I’d spent every summer for the first eleven years of my life. Two years had passed since the last time we’d come, and as I blinked at the familiar sight of TF Green Airport, I shoved the memories of previous summers down deep inside myself. I held them there as we disembarked, grabbed our luggage from one of the four baggage carousels, and climbed into the waiting car. My parents laughed at how disoriented I seemed—I never fell asleep on our cross-country summer flights. But this summer was different.

  I tried to look on the bright side, at how excited Mom was to see Holly, her best friend since college. Not long after graduating, Holly had married Wes Koyama and moved from California to Fairfield, Connecticut, and she and my mom had made a pact to see each other at least once a year. Fortunately, the Koyama family had a vacation house in Mystic for all of us to use in the summer. Mom and Holly had kept their promise to each other until Wes’s job had taken the family to Japan for two years. Last summer was the first they’d ever missed. But now they would be reunited. I grinned, thinking of my best friend back home, Lila Tan, and how our friendship would last forever like Mom and Holly’s had.

  “It’s nice to see you smile, finally,” Mom said as we drove over the border from Rhode Island into Connecticut.

  “Hmmm.” I didn’t bother explaining to her that my smile had nothing to do with being here for the summer. Mom would get to hang out with her best friend while I would be apart from mine. I’d had to leave Lila behind in California, and that thought vaporized all my good feelings.

  “Oh, Mai,” Mom said, putting her arm around my shoulders and hugging me toward her. “Don’t look so sad. I know you’re going to miss hanging out with Lila this summer, but she’ll be visiting in a few weeks. You’ll see her then.”

  Mom was right. I blew out a breath and pasted on a smil
e. I knew my parents loved me, but I also knew that they didn’t know how to handle it when I was sad. A memory surfaced from when I was in the third grade. A friend—or at least I’d thought she was a friend—had disinvited me from her birthday party, and I’d cried uncontrollably. When I couldn’t stop, Mom had gotten frustrated with me, brushing off my sadness. To be fair she had been in the middle of a conference call, but still.

  “And,” Dad said from the front passenger seat, smiling at me, “you get to spend the summer with Zach!”

  Both of my parents still thought that Zach Koyama was my best friend. Because of course they did. We used to be inseparable. We’d spend every waking moment of our summers playing and talking and laughing. During the rest of the year, I’d count the days until we’d be reunited.

  But all that had changed. Two summers ago, he’d humiliated me, and our friendship had shattered. Something my parents and, probably his, didn’t know. If the Koyamas had come back to the States last summer instead of staying in Japan, maybe Zach and I could have fixed what had broken. But too much time had passed, and my anger had grown. All I wanted now was to punish Zach. What was that saying? Revenge was sweet, and I was definitely going to get my revenge!

  As always, Dad asked the driver to take exit 90—the scenic route—even though it meant fighting the aquarium and museum traffic. But traditions were important, and I was especially glad for this one because it would delay our arrival.

  We passed motels and a gas station, a mill, and quaint (as Mom called them) New England houses totally unlike the stucco homes and townhouse communities back in Silicon Valley. I pressed my face against the window as we drove along the river, watching cormorants dive into the water.

  Gradually, all the anger I had for Zach was replaced by the hum of low-level excitement. I had mostly great memories of Mystic, and I’d get to spend the next six weeks doing all the things I loved – birdwatching, hiking, collecting rocks and feathers, and being in nature. But when the car made the right turn to leave the river behind, my heart squeezed in my chest. Anger battled with excitement. In the end anger won.