Kara jumped in her seat, heart racing, staring at the feline. For a second, she feared she might be dreaming, that if she turned and looked at her classmates again, the girls would have no faces. The cat had red and copper fur, and she had seen it before . . . had seen it fall to the ground amid the remembrances left at the shrine for Akane, down by the water. It had collapsed as though struck by lightning, and she’d been sure it was dead before it had gotten up and darted off into the woods.
For several seconds, Kara and the cat just stared at each other.
It opened its jaws in a silent hiss, back arching. Kara froze rigid, breath catching in her throat.
Maiko gave a yell as she woke. Several kids in the class laughed, though most remained silent, fearing some punishment themselves. Kara turned to look at Maiko, saw the confused look on the girl’s face, and the relief—she might be in trouble, but at least she was no longer trapped in that dream.
Or maybe she is. Maybe we all are, Kara thought, turning back toward the door.
The cat was gone.
It undid her. Kara took a long, shuddering breath and brought both hands up to cover her face, rubbing at her tired eyes. She opened her hands as though playing peekaboo, and still the cat was nowhere to be seen.
She half rose, ready to rush from the room, to search out the cat, to find out who it belonged to and what the hell it was doing here, and why it haunted her dreams. But then she saw her father staring at her, brow furrowed in consternation and concern, and she sat back down.
The class dragged on forever. Kara fidgeted in her chair, not hearing a word, not able to focus at all. She watched Maiko in case she fell asleep again, studied her classmates to see if any of them looked tired, and every minute or so her gaze strayed nervously to the doorway. The frisson of fear that had prickled her skin had not receded at all.
When her father finally slid the door closed, trying to get her attention back, that only made it worse. Without being able to see into the corridor, she could easily imagine the cat still there. She knew all of this was paranoia and sleep deprivation, but knowing didn’t help. She needed to get out of school, to go home and get some rest while the sun was still up. It would be worse after dark.
When at last the class ended, her father beckoned for her to follow him out into the corridor. Today he’d worn a dark jacket and black tie, and Kara flashed to her mother’s funeral, to a vision of her father standing beside her grave in grim funeral clothes. He wore something similar every day to teach at Monju-no-Chie School, but the comparison had never occurred to her before. Now she’d never be able to erase it from her mind.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked in English. They’d agreed on no English in school, but there was less chance of being overheard this way.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Kara.” His tone said it all—she wasn’t fooling either of them. “You looked like a deer in headlights in there. You’re either scared of something or you’re on drugs, and it damn well better not be the latter.”
She looked at him, forced herself to focus on his eyes, and then she took a deep, shuddery breath and let it out in a long sigh. Her back and shoulders and neck were knotted up with tension, and she felt the muscles relax.
“I haven’t been sleeping well. I think . . . I don’t think I’m the only one. I was getting freaked out in there, but I’m all right.”
He looked dubious. Kara took his hands in hers and squeezed.
“Really, Dad. I’ll be okay. I think everyone’s on edge ’cause of what happened to Jiro. The weirdness is like a cloud around here. It’ll blow over.”
He had to get to his next class, but it was obvious he was reluctant to go. Finally he nodded.
“Okay. But you really need sleep, kiddo. I’ve got some Ambien. I know you don’t like to take that stuff—”
“Are you kidding?” Kara said quickly. “I’ll make an exception.”
Her dad smiled. “All right. I’ll see you later. If you start getting really antsy, just tell the teacher you’re sick and come find me.”
Kara would never do that. They had to fit into the culture of the school, and Japanese students at Monju-no-Chie School weren’t about to beg off class unless they were throwing up or too weak to get out of bed. Their parents weren’t going to coddle them, either. Her father would lose some of the respect of his peers if she behaved that way, and more if he seemed to condone it. She wouldn’t do that to him.
“Sure,” she lied.
Her father headed off to teach his next class and she went back into the room, glancing around first to make sure there was no sign of the cat. It made her feel a little better to know she would be able to sleep that night.
But not much. Whatever the weirdness was, it was just as contagious as the dreams. The more people had trouble sleeping, the more irritable they got. That was only natural. But that didn’t explain the cat—the same creature that she’d dreamt about—showing up just as Maiko had been having her nightmare, almost like the cat knew. Or as though it had brought the nightmares to her itself.
Calligraphy made Kara feel a thousand times better.
At first, listening to the teacher—Kaneda-sensei—she had thought it might be the most boring thing she would ever do. The gray-haired, fiftyish woman had a slow, drowsy voice, like some of the baseball commentators back home. Nothing made her fall asleep faster than when her dad would put on a Red Sox game on an August afternoon.
She’d also been on edge, wondering if the members of the calligraphy club would freeze her out the way the Noh club members had. And some of them had looked at her with disdain when they saw she was attending the meeting. But Sakura introduced her to some of the girls, and there were several kids from her homeroom in the club, including Ren and the female Sora. Ren teased her, slowly pronouncing the Japanese names for the special paper they used—hanshi—and the different brushes, but his teasing was so good-natured that Kara could shoot him a halfhearted icy stare and then laugh, which seemed to set everyone at ease.
What really helped, though, was when they actually got down to work. Kaneda-sensei stopped to show her brushstrokes several times, and she encouraged Sakura and the other members of the club to help as well. It was her first time even attempting calligraphy, and though she knew she couldn’t possibly be writing the kanji characters correctly, the process alone felt therapeutic. As she practiced different characters, following the order of brushstrokes carefully, she found her anxiety slipping away with every swath of black ink.
Japanese art all seemed to combine precision with beauty, but she had not seen the value in that precision with something like Noh theater. She admired it, yes, but couldn’t imagine doing it herself. Calligraphy was different. Working with the ink and brush seemed almost like meditation.
When the meeting ended, she knew she had found her club.
Afterward, Sakura and Ren walked out with her, the two of them involved in a conversation about their favorite manga that sounded almost like a completely different language to her. They talked artists and ink thickness, and when they discussed the actual stories, they spoke about the characters and places as though they existed in the real world.
Kara had already decided she liked Ren, but seeing the way he could distract Sakura from her troubles, she liked him even more. She only hoped that his interest in Sakura didn’t extend beyond friendship, because that might break Miho’s heart. As much as she dismissed the idea of dating Japanese boys, and only wanted to talk about American guys, it was painfully obvious that Miho had a crush on Ren. Kara made a mental note to talk to Sakura about him; she wouldn’t want to hurt her roommate without even realizing it.
“Why didn’t you two join the manga club?” she asked as they went into the genkan and changed into their street shoes.
They exchanged a look and a laugh.
“Matsui-sensei guides the manga club,” Sakura said.
“So? He’s very serious, but he’s nice enou
gh.”
Ren shook his head. “Not if you don’t like baseball. He really would like to guide the baseball club, but since he had to settle for the manga club, he only wants to talk about baseball manga. We met in manga club last year and switched to calligraphy together.”
Kara couldn’t help the insinuating smile that touched her lips. “Really?”
Sakura rolled her eyes and whapped her on the arm. “It’s not like that. I’m not Ren’s type.”
The two of them shared another look and a laugh at what must have been a private joke between them. From Sakura’s tone, Kara got the implication. Miho would be very depressed if she found out that Ren was gay. Kara wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
“Let’s go,” Sakura muttered. “I need a cigarette.”
They said their good-byes to Ren and went out through the front doors. The shadows had already grown long. Kara wondered how she would feel about being in school during the worst winter months, when she would be arriving shortly after sunrise and heading home after dark. Winter would be very long. Fortunately, it was far off, and they had all of spring and summer stretching before them.
“You and Miho really have to come over for dinner one night,” she said as they headed around to Sakura’s smoking spot.
“Your father really wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
“I’m sure—,” Kara began but stopped mid-sentence.
The soccer girls were there, gathered around like some 1950s gang waiting for a rumble. She knew a lot their names, now. Chouku. Hana. Reiko. In their sailor fuku uniforms, they looked like a real-life version of something out of one of Sakura’s favorite manga.
Ume started toward Sakura. Maiko grabbed her arm, trying to hold her back. Ume shook her off. A couple of other girls murmured hesitations, glancing around, worried there would be trouble and they would be caught up in it.
“Sakura . . . ,” Kara began.
But she had no more luck than Ume’s friends. Sakura stormed toward her smoking spot. A couple of spiky-haired boys, obviously friends of Ume’s, were standing in the recessed doorway, but they did not try to help or interfere. They were there just to watch. They smiled.
To Kara, they all looked tired.
“You’re going to stop!” Ume jabbed Sakura in the chest with one long finger.
Sakura scoffed. With her jagged slash of hair and sleepless eyes, she actually looked dangerous, like she might at last be just as wild as she always tried to appear.
“Stop what? Breathing? Sorry, I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Ume said, almost snarling, stepping in close.
Kara tried to separate them.
Ume slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me, bonsai. This has nothing to do with you.”
Kara looked around at the other girls and the boys watching from that recessed doorway. They all looked ragged and on edge. She thought about her own behavior earlier, and the way Ume had sniped at Maiko that morning, and she knew, suddenly, that things could turn very ugly here. Not just ugly—violent.
“Maiko,” she said, turning to the other girl.
But Maiko looked away. None of them would meet her gaze. Some glared at Sakura expectantly, waiting for a fight, practically salivating over the possibility. Others looked like they wished they were anywhere but here, as though they thought maybe Ume was acting a little crazy but didn’t want to be the first to say it.
“You are going to stop,” Ume went on. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re putting these things in my head.” She spread her arms to indicate the others. “In all of our heads.”
A terrible smirk appeared on Sakura’s lips. “Oh, I get it now. You’re having dreams, too, aren’t you? Bad dreams.”
“See!” Ume said, triumphantly, pointing at her again and turning to the others. “I told you! She admits it.”
“She didn’t admit anything,” Kara said. “A lot of us are having bad dreams.”
Ume stepped in close to Sakura. She was taller and glared down at her. “It isn’t just in dreams anymore. Some of us . . . we’ve seen things while we’re awake, too.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Things that shouldn’t be there.”
Maiko took a step closer to them. But instead of menacing, she was pleading. “What did you do, Sakura? Is it some kind of drug? Or did you poison us? Please, you have to stop.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m falling apart.”
Maiko sounded so full of despair that Kara couldn’t help feeling badly for her.
“You’re haunted,” Sakura told Ume. She glanced around at the others. “You’re all haunted, as you should be. None of you should be able to sleep.”
Kara stared at her. What the hell was she talking about?
Ume laughed. Nobody else did.
“I knew your sister was crazy, but I didn’t realize you were just as bad,” Ume said.
Her mistake had been in getting so close.
Sakura slapped her, open-handed, with such force that the sound echoed off the stone wall of the school. As Ume reeled away, Sakura followed. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, she punched her in the face hard enough that blood squirted from both nostrils.
“Jesus, cut it out!” Kara shouted and grabbed Sakura by the arms, hauling her backward.
Sakura managed to launch a kick that hit Ume in the gut. The taller girl fell to her knees and vomited in the grass. As she wiped puke and blood from her lips, the two boys by the door began to cheer and the other soccer girls started for Sakura. Even the ones who had seemed unsure before looked like they had made up their minds now. They were going to take Sakura apart.
“Stop it!”
They all turned to see Miho and Hachiro coming around from the back of the school and running toward them. Hachiro had been the one to shout.
“What’s wrong with you? All of you?” Miho asked, rushing to help Kara escort Sakura away.
“Do you want to be expelled?” Hachiro shouted at the others.
He stayed there, warning them all not to follow, and nobody did. Maybe because Hachiro had been so close to Jiro, maybe because they trusted him, or perhaps just because of his size, they all listened to him.
Except for Ume.
“I’m not haunted!” she cried after them.
“Yes, you are,” Sakura whispered to herself.
Miho and Kara walked on either side of her, around the front of the school building and down the street. Kara didn’t know where Miho was leading them, but at the moment, anywhere was better than here. It was a miracle none of the teachers had come out during the scuffle. They were lucky it had been so quick. But the headmaster would hear about it soon enough.
“Are we going for candy?” Sakura asked, softly.
Miho smiled. “Yes.”
“You’re going to give me sugar after that?”
Kara glanced at Miho. “Is that a good idea?”
“For her, yes. For us, maybe not so much.”
They all laughed, just a little. But as they walked, Kara kept stealing glances at Sakura, until finally the other girl shook her head.
“You want to ask, so ask,” she said.
“Fine. What was all of that about?”
All trace of humor left Sakura’s face. “I don’t know for sure if Ume was involved in Akane’s death. But if she didn’t kill my sister, I think she knows who did. They think I’m doing something to them, but they’re wrong. I haven’t done anything.”
She stopped and looked at Miho and Kara. “It’s Akane. She’s haunting them. Her spirit’s still here at school, still lingering where she was murdered. I hope she drives them all mad.”
Sakura walked on.
For a few seconds, Kara and Miho only stared after her, wide-eyed. Then they set off after her. Someone had to stay with her.
But all the while, Kara thought about what she and Ume and Maiko had said about their bad dreams. Kara hadn’t even known Akane, but the nightmares were haunting her as
well. She thought about mentioning this, explaining to Sakura that it proved she was wrong. Even if she believed in ghosts or spirits, if Akane really was haunting Ume and the others, the spirit wouldn’t bother with a girl who’d been living halfway around the world when she was murdered.
Then she thought about the cat she’d seen in school that day, and her dreams, and how badly Sakura seemed to need to believe Akane’s spirit still hung around Monju-no-Chie School, and she decided to keep quiet.
There would be time for logic and reality-check questions another day.
For this afternoon, there would be candy.
8
Mid-morning on Thursday, while she was supposed to be paying attention in her history class, Kara couldn’t stop thinking about Ume and Sakura’s behavior the day before. Not even twenty-four hours had passed, and she was already sick of watching her back, waiting for whatever Ume might do in retribution.
At least Kara had gotten some sleep. Her father had given her Ambien. She didn’t like taking the pill—it made her feel groggy in the morning, and she didn’t want to have to rely on medication in order to get some rest—but at least she’d been able to sleep, and she hadn’t dreamed at all, which was a major bonus. This morning she felt more alert, more aware, and only now did she realize just how much her restless nights had begun to wear on her. As bad as she had looked—the dark circles under eyes, her sallow face—she’d felt even worse.
Today she found herself more able to concentrate, and that meant a focus on recent events that she hadn’t been able to manage earlier in the week. What seemed surreal and impossible just the day before now seemed vivid and credible. Others were having bad dreams—Ume and the other soccer girls, some of the boys they hung around with, Sakura, and Kara herself. But Miho claimed she hadn’t been troubled by nightmares, that only Sakura’s sleeplessness had interrupted her slumber.
So where were the connections?
Sakura claimed Ume had something to do with her sister’s death, and that Ume and her friends were being haunted. Despite the cat and the terrible dreams she’d had, Kara couldn’t bring herself to believe that. But clearly, something was troubling them all. Ume thought Sakura had drugged them, but that seemed not only improbable but ridiculous.
The Waking Page 10
