What the Kobe Bryant was I supposed to do here?
I went back out and hauled Gabe in to see the bizarre toilet. “Is it a floor urinal?” Because that was the best I could figure. “Where are the toilets?” I needed a toilet. I couldn’t use those airplane toilets, and it had been a very loong flight.
“I think you’re supposed to squat,” Gabe said. “They had outhouses like this in Swaziland.”
Squat? Come on.
Wally’s eyes widened with horror. “I can’t … Is this all they have?”
“I hear you, man,” I said. “This is messed up.” But I took a picture with My Precious and sent it to Kip.
Gabe and I left Wally staring at the hole and drifted back out to the luggage area. Gabe told Lukas about the toilet and they ran off, leaving me alone at the carousel. I glanced to my left and made eye contact with Grace, who glared at me and twirled her finger in her ponytail.
Yeah … she was obviously in love with me. Stupid Lukas.
Grace was standing with three Japanese girls. One of them took out a camera, and the other two pulled Grace in between them and posed, their fingers twisted into peace signs.
“Hai chizu!” the girl with the camera said.
I spied Gabe, Lukas, and Wally outside the bathroom. They were looking at Arianna, whose mouth was moving so much it looked like she was lecturing a college class on some mega-boring topic. I went over to see why the guys were still listening.
“It’s a traditional washiki toire,” Arianna was saying. “A squat toilet. It’s actually more sanitary than a Western toilet, though there’s not always toilet paper available. Most homes have a Western toilet, though, which are called yoshiki toire.”
“I shouldn’t have come,” Wally said. “I knew it would be difficult enough with my food allergies, but this I don’t think I can tolerate.”
The luggage carousel began to rotate, so I made myself useful before I had to listen to Wally break down. I pulled off any familiar luggage. My antique turtle of a suitcase came wobbling down the metal chute on its hard shell. I launched for it and knocked into someone in the process. “Sorry,” I said.
“Daijoubu.”
The voice was a low purr. I looked down into big, brown anime eyes that belonged to a slender girl who was no taller than Grace. She had long black hair and thick bangs.
I frowned and cocked my head to the side, staring. This was my dream girl. I mean, not the girl of my dreams, but the girl from my reoccurring dream, the one who was swimming in the ocean.
“Daijobu ka?” she asked me.
I snapped out of my trance. Was I all right? I didn’t have a clue. Because here was one very beautiful foreign girl. A girl I’d dreamed about already. And Mary had warned me about beautiful girls. So, what now?
“Supensa-san.” Jun appeared beside me and wrenched my suitcase out of my hand. “Is time to go.” He nodded at the Asian princess and walked away.
I trailed after him but looked back to the girl, who was now standing by Grace and Isabel. “Who was that girl?” I asked Jun.
“Keiko,” Jun said.
Cake-o? I could remember that.
Jun led me and Gabe and Wally over to a bench where his parents were sitting. He introduced them as his otosan (father) and okasan (mother). They were both short and brown and full of smiles.
“Sugoi …” Jun’s mother said, staring up at me. “Kare wa se ga takai, ne?” She slapped Jun’s arm. “Totemo takai, ne? Ne, Jun. Shinjirarenai, yo!”
Sheen gee say what? I’d caught the word “takai,” but that was it. Takai meant tall. Jun’s father also stared up at me, though he didn’t answer.
I offered Jun’s mom a smile, and she kept on talking. “Wa tashi wa akai kami o aishi te.” She slapped Jun’s arm. “Speak-u English. Eigo.”
“She says she loves red hair,” Jun said.
Then she took off again, chattering incoherently. I recognized a familiar word here and there—tall, very, wow, cute, and of course, American—but my brain couldn’t translate everything fast enough. Jun’s father appeared to be mute. His wife spoke enough for both of them.
It was dark when Jun led us outside into the sticky heat. Shouldn’t it have cooled off by now? I’d thought LA summers were hot, but this muggy tropical heat had clamped onto my skin like it was trying to suck the life out of me. We traipsed through an outdoor parking lot lit with streetlamps and up to a minivan that was so mini it looked like a toy. Jun’s mom motioned me and Gabe to get in first, so I crammed into the third row with Gabe. I had to wedge my knees against the middle seat, and my head pressed against the ceiling. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to ride in this thing much this summer.
Jun and his mother sat in the middle row. And for some reason Wally was in the passenger’s seat.
“What’s he doing up there?” I asked Gabe.
“Wally has to ride shotgun or he gets anxiety,” Gabe said. “My dad explained it to Jun in the airport.”
Yeah, right. “Well, tell Jun’s mom that I can only eat at five-star restaurants.”
Gabe chuckled.
Jun’s mom turned and looked over the back of her seat. “Okasan speak-u English. So very very stew-rongu boee-zu, ne?” She giggled and reached over the seat to slap my knee. “Watashi wa koun desu. Okasan very very lucky. San hansamu na otokonoko. Three handu-some boee-zu. Ne? Okasan no A-me-ri-kan boee-zu.”
That was Gabe and me. A couple of handsome boyzu.
Jun’s father started the van and took off, peeling around corners NASCAR-style. I gripped the seat in front of me. People drove on the left side of the road in Japan, and it was scary. I focused on the colorful electric signs, looking for kanji I recognized. Almost every sign seemed to be animated like we were in Vegas. The people on the sidewalks were all black-haired. No wonder I stood out. Maybe that was all Mary’s dream meant: that Japanese girls would want to yank out my freakish orange hair. Of course that didn’t explain the sunglasses guys. Maybe they’d want to kick my butt because all their girlfriends would be hitting on me.
There were palm trees everywhere. We passed endless businesses and lots of tiled sloping roofs. The drive lasted about twenty minutes before the minivan veered down a narrow alley with brick walls on both sides and jerked to a stop. Otosan climbed out and came around back to unload the luggage.
I was the last to climb out, sprawling out onto the sidewalk like some kind of a snake popping out of a can. I grabbed my suitcase from Jun’s dad and approached the front door.
The house was a small one-story with a flat roof. Didn’t look all that different from a house in the Neighborhood back home. It was painted beige and had bright turquoise trim and black iron window boxes. Bamboo mats covered the windows and flapped in the breeze. Tropical plants with huge leaves shaded the exterior walls. Two little stone dog monsters stared at me from a flowerbox beside the door, their eyes scowling. A ten-inch green striped lizard scuttled out of the flowers and up the wall. I jumped, then hefted my suitcase so it would look like I hadn’t. Jun opened the door, and I followed him in.
The place wasn’t much cooler inside. We entered a one-room living room/kitchen that was filled with more clutter than Mrs. Daggett’s place. Bookshelves were filled with books, more stone dog monster statues in a variety of sizes, and a few glass boxes with fancy dolls inside. A couple of straw fans hung on the wall. The floor was grey-checked linoleum. There were two normal-looking couches in front of an entertainment console with a TV/DVD player. A grand piano claimed half the room. The top was down, and stacks of books and papers covered most of it. A metal table with six chairs sat in the crook of an L-shaped kitchen. I saw a refrigerator but no oven. All the clutter made the place look smaller than it was.
Jun led us down a short hallway and pointed through a doorway on the left. “My parents’ room.”
I peeked in and saw a full-sized mattress and box springs made up into a bed on the floor. No frame.
Jun kept moving. “Bathroom is here.” He gestured to
an open door on the right. “When ready to take bath, am show you how.”
I was relieved to see that it had a western toilet, but it also had a giant rubber trash can sitting next to the tub.
“I don’t need assistance bathing,” Wally said.
Jun snickered, and his smile lit up his face. “For the water. Must not waste.”
There was only one other door. It was at the very end of the hallway.
“This room share with my brother. You sleep here also.” Jun walked into the bedroom at the end of the hall. It was a little bigger than his parents’ room, but there were no beds. Just a few shelves with books, a stereo, a closed laptop. A lamp dangled from a chain in the center of the room, and I knew I’d be hitting my head on that thing all summer. The same grey linoleum covered the floor as in the rest of the house.
Seriously? Five dudes on the floor of this room? I might as well be on a basketball trip. But for eight weeks?
I dropped the turtle suitcase and stretched, hitting my hand on the lamp chain. I was going to get so stiff on this floor. I’d need to find some way to keep in shape. I couldn’t risk letting Coach be right about my deciding to come to Japan over his camp.
First stop, though? Bathroom with a real toilet.
● ● ●
When I finished in the bathroom, I found the others in the living room watching TV. Okasan stood in the kitchen, cooking up something that smelled like an ashtray. I sat on the sofa beside Gabe and checked out the show. Some dude in a clown costume was running around dumping buckets of cooked noodles over people’s heads. Bizarre.
Okasan served up some hot, bitter tea. Mr. S had told us to be polite and at least try everything we were fed, so I held my breath and gulped down the tea. I wasn’t much of a tea guy. Sadly, my enthusiasm thrilled Okasan, who brought me a second cup, which I sipped very, very slowly.
A half hour later, we all piled back into the sardine-can van. I had no idea where they were taking us at 8:45 at night. The trip was so short, I didn’t know why we hadn’t walked.
When I got out, I couldn’t help but notice our surroundings had improved. Even in the dark, I could tell that this was the Snob Hill area of town. The gates and streetlamps were fancier. I could smell the flowers even if I couldn’t see them. I stood on a spacious sidewalk that ran along a narrow street with an eight-foot-high brick wall on both sides. I could see the tile roofs of multi-story homes looming above, as if to brag about how big they were. And the crickets seemed to be yelling. Tons of them, even in the city.
I followed Jun to an opening in the brick wall and up a set of mosaic steps hedged in exotic shrubs. Stone dog statues as high as my knees were spaced here and there along the steps.
“What’s with the monster dogs everywhere?” I asked.
“They are shisa,” Jun said, holding open an iron gate for us. “A lion dog from Okinawan mythology. Ancients believed they warded off evil spirits. They usually come in pairs, one with an open mouth, one with a closed mouth.”
“Why?” Gabe asked.
Jun let the gate close behind him, and we kept climbing the mosaic stairs. “The open mouth spreads good tidings. The closed mouth does not spread evil gossip.”
“Creepy,” I said.
At the top of the stairs, we came to an oversized wooden door that was carved with scrolls and flowers and reminded me of something out of Lord of the Rings. Whoever lived here had way more money than Jun’s parents did.
Jun rang the bell. The door opened, revealing Keiko, the pretty girl from the airport—and my dreams. She wore a dark red blouse and a flippy black skirt that was so short Arianna would probably start protesting if she saw it.
“Konbanwa,” Keiko said in that low, sexy voice.
I wanted to say it back, to tell her “Good evening, you gorgeous creature.” But I didn’t say anything. I always had a hard time breaking the ice with pretty girls. I usually did something dumb, like pulling Grace’s ponytail. And last fall, I’d tried things the slow way with Beth, and that had backfired too. What was it going to take to get that exotic face to smile at me?
Keiko held the door wide, and we entered an air conditioned palace that was nicer than Sammy’s mansion in LA. Fancy wall lights cast dim light over the front room. Tatami mats covered the floor. Dark wood shoji screens separated this room from the next. Shoji screens were little wooden window frames filled with white paper. Mr. S had taught us about them in class.
What little furniture existed was rich wood and of simple design. Everything was brown or beige. No clutter in this place. A flat stone hearth sat in the middle of the room and was built right into the floor like some kind of indoor campfire.
I would so live here. All it was missing was a big screen TV.
Several adults sat on their knees around the stone hearth, sipping tea. With everyone sitting and staring up at me, I felt like Gulliver walking through Lilliput. No, I’m not a fan of the book, but we’d had to read it in eighth grade.
Jun started across the room, shoes off. Gabe, Wally, and I kicked off our shoes and followed. I scanned the room for the lovely lady in red, but Keiko must have slipped away.
Someone grabbed my hand. I turned around, pleased to see that Keiko had never left. But she was now wearing a purple dress. And her hair was different. Curly, where I could have sworn it had just been straight. That was weird. What was up with the quick-change act? I felt my temperature rise at her touch—she was touching me! Holding my hand! Not glaring at me, like Grace always did.
She pulled me across the room—in the direction Jun and the others had gone. I would have followed her anywhere. We stepped past an open shoji screen and walked down a long, plain hallway, passed a dozen closed shoji screen doors.
The farther we traipsed into this mansion, the louder the sounds of laughter and Japanese chatter became. Keiko let go of my hand and pulled open a screen, which revealed a girls’ bedroom packed with bodies. Arianna, Isabel, and Grace sat on a bed covered in a purple blanket. Three Japanese girls sat on a second, identical bed.
My host brother, Jun, sat on the floor in front of the second bed with his arm draped around Keiko—the girl in the red blouse who had answered the door.
Wait … what? I looked at the girl holding back the screen door.
Two Asian princesses? No way, no way!
Jun burst into laughter and clapped his hands, hysterical at my reaction. I looked from one girl to the other. They were identical—more so than Mary and Martha. I guess when God makes something that perfect, one just isn’t enough.
“Keiko and Kozue are identical twins, Spencer,” Arianna said.
Ko-say? I coughed up an airy laugh, trying to be cool. “You think?”
“They’re our host sisters, high-tower, so we already knew.”
Grace’s hostility instantly chilled me. “Yeah, well, congratulations, Butterscotch. I’m sure you were confused at first, but don’t blame yourself: Blondes are born dumb.”
“Spencer!” Gabe said from behind me.
I winced. Yeah … I’d gone too far with the blonde joke.
“What’s black and blue and orange and lying in a ditch?”
Grace asked me.
Uh-oh. I had a feeling I was about to get burned. “The Philadelphia Flyers after playing the Kings?”
“A ginger who’s told too many blonde jokes.”
“So, you want to take me on, is that it?” I said. “You do know that I could beat you with one hand behind my back, Tinkerbell.”
“You probably beat up girls for fun.”
“What’s your prob—?”
“Spencer.” Arianna scooted forward on the bed, blocking my view of Grace. “How is your house and your family? What’s it like?”
Jun coughed and looked at the floor.
“It’s great,” I said, hoping to avoid having to compare the mansion to the shack and embarrassing my new host bro. “Jun’s mom makes this awesome tea.”
Jun wrinkled his nose. “You like her tea?�
�
“It was wonderful,” Wally said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Arianna. “Green tea contains polyphenol antioxidants, which fight against free radicals. It slows the aging process and promotes longevity.”
The three Japanese girls on the other bed giggled, hands over their mouths as if showing one’s teeth was bad form. I doubted they had a clue what Wally had just said. I didn’t, and I spoke English.
I looked over the room. There was a computer, drawers draped with clothing that must not have made the cut for tonight, and posters on the wall. I did a double take at one with an American girl dressed in black lingerie with a beast hunting belt slung around her hips. Big, bloody Japanese katakana symbols stretched across the top. It was a poster for Jolt III: Return of the Daysman. I so needed to get me one of those.
“Dude!” I pointed. “You guys like Brittany Holmes?”
Every Japanese girl in the room squealed.
The twin who was standing beside me, the one wearing purple, looked up, her eyes sleepy. “Light Goddess. We love.”
I nodded, impressed at how Brittany’s popularity stretched from Moscow to Okinawa. The girl was all over the planet.
“I’ve seen all but the new movie.” Jolt III had hit theaters the day before we’d left, and Grandma had made me stay home and pack. So unfair.
“We’ll take you,” Jun said. “Is playing in Naha.”
“Seriously?” Because that would be amazing.
“We go,” Jun said. “Soon.”
I’m going to see Br-it-tany. I’m going to see Br-it-tany.
But what if the movie was in Japanese?
Keiko pulled me inside the room and closed the shoji screen. The Japanese girls moved over so Gabe and I could sit on the bed. I sat between Gabe and the acne girl from the airport. Wally sat across from us, between Arianna and Isabel. Keiko sat on Isabel’s other side.
I looked from Keiko to Kozue and back and forth. Which twin had I seen in my dreams? Were both visions the same girl? One of each? Could I ever know for certain?
“You have girlfriend?” a Japanese girl in a Keroppi Frog shirt asked Gabe.
Project Gemini (Mission 2 Page 8
