Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Save Your Grace ❯ Prey ( Chapter 1 )

“Things never turn out the way you think they will.”

-Prey by Michael Crichton

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-Chapter One-

-Prey-

 

I sat upon the throne of embarrassment, wearing the crown of humiliation. It was uncomfortable, awkward, and extremely shameful. Staring straight ahead, I attempted to block out the others in the room. But attempting does not always mean succeeding.

 

In between phone calls, writing passes, and other duties, the nurse would ask how I was holding up. Honestly, I felt like I was trying to hold back the Amazon River with a pack of toothpicks. But I couldn't tell the nurse that. She would feel guilty about there being no vacant beds in the girls' room. The only space available was the chair beside her desk. In front of everyone.

 

Thus, my sitting on “the throne of embarrassment” and whatnot. The other students sitting in the waiting room with me couldn't seem to not stare at my red, puffy eyes. I guess that makes my attempt to ignore them a failure and I'll just be adding it to my list of “Things I Fail At”. It's lengthy.

 

Sighing, I deflated a bit and sagged in the chair. The restroom was beginning to look more promising than the Nurse's Office. Maybe I could weep to stalls about the evil teachers out to ruin my life. And then possibly, I could align with said restroom stalls and war against the evil teachers. Peace wouldn't be able reign the school halls until Ms. Sasaki, the math teacher and leader of the evil teachers' army, was vanquished.

 

“-are you doing?”

 

I jumped, slightly startled by the nurse's face appearing close to mine. “Sorry?” I asked tentatively.

 

The nurse laughed heartily, gaining the attention of everyone in the small waiting room. Red eyes, red cheeks, I was quite the red crayon. She graced me with a warm, motherly smile that quelled most of my embarrassment.

 

“How are you doing, sweetie?” she repeated.

 

“Fine,” I softly claimed.

 

Again, she chuckled lightly. “Your head somewhere else, huh?”

 

I nodded slowly, trying to stop the train of thought to once more depart for the “evil teachers' army”.

 

She studied my face thoughtfully, focusing on my eyes and cheeks. “You've had a rough day too apparently.”

 

I was kind of surprised. Here I was sitting in the waiting room of the Nurse's Office, having to hold back my tears after being yelled at Ms. Sasaki (again) and being thoroughly humiliated with such a personal display, and the nurse was about to give an open ear. Absolutely arbitrary if you ask me.

 

And so I spilled. I listed off all my problems one by one while she sat and listened. I expressed my worries about the final examinations looming nearer, the numerous tutors who had quit on me, the angry math teacher, the disappointed family, and the ever surprisingly triumphant track record.

 

Just as I was about to open up the next can of worms, my competition with my sister, a student approached the nurse with a yellow pass and complained of a fever. The nurse told the ailing boy to go in the boys' room and wait for her. She assured him that she would be there shortly.

 

She stood from her desk and gazed at me sincerely. Her hand found my shoulder and she gripped it gently. “Things will start to look up hun. Don't drop out of the fight yet.”

 

I mulled over her words once alone. She seemed so confident that things really would start getting better. But for the life of me, I just couldn't believe that.

 

* * *

 

“Hana Nakashima is a loooser!”

 

I grinned at my friend as she slammed her gym locker shut. How she could dress-out so fast was beyond me. I barely had my dark navy-blue blazer unbuttoned. And there were only two buttons.

 

“No,” I snorted as I shoved the poorly folded school-issued blazer into my own locker and then started unclipping my tie and slipping off my school shoes. “Masako is a `loooser'.” I imitated her.

 

In return, she imitated my snort. “Whatever Han, I'm cool and you know it,” she paused and looked over her shoulder nonchalantly. “Just like today's weather.”

 

“Today is pretty chilly,” I agreed after conquering my damned buttoned-up white blouse and shoving it in the locker with the blazer, clip-on, and shoes, again poorly folded. Up next for defeat, unzipping the blue and green tartan skirt.

 

Masako rolled her brown eyes. She fell against the lockers and crossed her arms casually. “What do you expect in February? Twenty-seven degrees*?”

 

I slipped on the polyester track pants with ease and deftly adjusted the draw-string around my hips. The jacket zipped up over my undershirt just as easily. I grabbed my track shoes and forced my feet in them. After closing my locker gentler than Masako, I turned to her. “Sarcasm is the weapon-of-choice for looosers,” I joked.

 

“Whatever Han,” she dismissed me once more. “Let's just get this practice over with. Which I know you're looking forward to, you insane freak.”

 

I laughed as we continued past fellow track-mates and out the girls' locker room. “Today has been one hell-full day.”

 

“So I've heard.”

 

I looked at her curiously. “What did you hear?”

 

Masako shrugged, her track jacket rustling slightly. “Just that you managed to make Ms. Sasaki erupt, again. Seriously, what is this like the fourth time?”

 

“Something like that,” I mumbled noncommittally.

 

“Just get your parents to talk to her.”

 

“They already have.”

 

“And?”

 

“Sasaki doesn't care about my `disability'?” I was hesitated at the word.

 

Masako continued. “You'd think she'd learn by now.”

 

“Ms. Sasaki doesn't `learn', she `teaches'.”

 

My tall friend looked at me incredulously. “She said that to your parents?”

 

“She might as well have. She implied like no other. My dad was about punch her in the throat,” I shrugged.

 

Masako laughed. “I'd love to see someone punch her in the throat.”

 

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I think I just might do that on the last day of her class. Just a punch-and-run kind of thing you know?”

 

My friend's giggles were interrupted by our coach shouting, “NAKASHIMA!”

 

I froze in my steps, nervous that Coach had heard my claim to want to hurt a teacher. I turned around and saw him jogging towards us. I glanced at Masako who only shrugged. She didn't know what this was about either apparently.

 

He huffed once he stopped in front of us. How someone so out of shape could be our track coach was a mystery to the whole team. But we loved him all the same. Coach had originally been assigned to the boys' varsity soccer team but after a period of constant losses, the school hired an up-and-coming coach who promised an endless run of wins. Subsequently, Coach was reassigned to the girls' varsity track team and oddly enough was faring well enough. We were a big competitor at all the track meets. So here he was, a balding, upper-middle-aged man who couldn't seem to not yell when he 'talked'.

 

“Yes Coach?”

 

Coach looked at me and then glanced at Masako. “SATO! Quit eavesdropping and head out to the field!”

 

Masako glared at him lightly before turning around and walking out towards the doors that led outside to the track. “Whatever. See you outside Han,” she yelled over her shoulder.

 

Coach grumbled under his breath and scratched the back of his head. He seemed nervous. I continued staring at him, waiting. He sighed, looking downhearted. And then, he gave me a look that sent a wave of worry through me.

 

“Listen Nakashima,” Apprehension engulfed my heart at his disappointed tone. “I can't let you practice today.”

 

My brain worked overtime trying to search for his reasoning. “Why? Is it because I said I was going to punch Ms. Sasaki in the throat?”

 

“What? No!” he exclaimed.

 

“Oh,” That had been my only idea. “Then why?” Actually, never mind. I don't really want to know. It would probably only do more harm than good. But Coach isn't one to hide things from us. Unfortunate for me.

 

Coach seemed to have to get his thoughts back on track after my outburst before explaining, “I can't let you run because of your grades Nakashima. I'm sorry, but I'm benching you the rest of the season.”

 

My mouth dropped. “What? The rest of the season? But Coach, the season is almost over and the next track meet is the biggest one of the year!”

 

He nodded solemnly. “I know, I know, and I'm sorry alright kid? I hate losing my best runner but the higher-ups say so.”

 

“Can't you do anything?” I had to fight for this. Running was the only thing I had to be proud of. It was the only thing not on my “Things I Fail At” list.

 

He shook his head. “I've tried all that I can do. Even if I just ignored them and let you continue running and competing, the judges would see that you're failing one of you classes and disqualify the whole team! I'm sorry Nakashima, and I'll keep saying sorry, but I can't let the whole team down just because you want to run.”

 

A sacrifice, really?

 

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”

 

He left me standing there in the hallway. A few more girls filed out of the locker room and made their way to the track. All of them didn't even spare me a passing glance. Sometimes being the best kills a girl's popularity.

 

Ritsu, one of the few senior members, stopped in front of me. She was an introvert and didn't tend to fuss over people like Masako. But then again, she knew when to give people space. Ritsu stared down at me, trying to discern my thoughts. She was also one of the few runners taller than me.

 

Finally, she asked, “What's up Hana?”

 

I sighed. “Coach is benching me for the rest of the season.”

 

An eyebrow rose. “'Benching' you? What is that, soccer-language?”

 

I shrugged. “Once a soccer coach always a soccer coach I guess. But Ritsu, I'm sorry. I know that next week is-”

 

“Stop,” she interrupted. “Don't be sorry. I had Sasaki last year; I know how difficult she can be. It just sucks even more for you because you're unnaturally bad at math.”

 

I smiled a little at Ritsu's blunt honesty. She never was one to beat around the bush.

 

She added, “At least you have next year though. And then you won't have Sasaki either. Any other teacher would be understanding and easier on you.”

 

I continued watching my teammates walk right by me, completely unaware that I had basically just been kicked off the team for the rest of the year.

 

“Ignore them,” Ritsu advised, noticing me watch the other girls just walk on by. “They won't understand the gravity of the situation until next week at the Meet, when we're pulling in last place. Then they'll miss you and your winning streaks.”

 

They only liked me when I won. Any other time and I wasn't even there to them. Some team.

 

I looked back at Ritsu after watching the last girl walk by. “You should probably head out to the field. No use in having two benched, right? Oh, and can you tell Masako what happened for me?”

 

Ritsu nodded and then smiled at me. “Don't worry about all these depressing letdowns. I can see a lot of amazing happy things in your future. You`ll be fine kid,” she predicted with a slap to my shoulder, just for good sport I guess.

 

When she walked away to join the others at the field, a cloud of gloom settled on me. Once again someone said they could see things getting better for me, and once again, I just couldn't believe it. Not even if my life depended on it.

 

But I closed the door on that thought and just started heading back to the locker room, alone. The foreboding that stood waiting outside that closed door scared me. It was an omen, that much I knew. But the thing about foreshadowing is that you never know what it's foreshadowing until after it's already happened. And from the feel of things, with the bad feeling temporarily locked away, after whatever happens, it'll be too late for me to connect the two.

 

* * *

 

Irritation is one of the most distinguishable emotions. Almost anyone can pinpoint an irritated person, unless of course that person happens to be the reason the person is irate to begin with. But not in this case. I could feel the annoyance rolling off my tutor in waves. He was one pissed off cookie.

 

“No,” he growled. “That. Is. Wrong.”

 

I stared at the kid somewhat in amazement, somewhat in concern. He gripped his pencil tightly and I swear I could see it bend slightly from the pressure.

 

Yasuo noticed my staring. “What?!” he snapped.

 

Jumping a little, I shook my head. There was no point in conversing with someone so hostile. The best thing for me to do was to focus and figure out the math problem.

 

From the moment the Meiou High student sat down beside me at our usual table in the library, I could tell today was going to be his breaking point. He was already suspicious of my being early but I just explained that practice had been cancelled today. What I didn't tell him was that practice had been cancelled only for me.

 

All that unexpected free time led me to the public library to attempt a head start on my math work. Naturally, I didn't get far and not even two seconds after sitting down, my tutor pointed out that I had done problems one and two wrong. Those were the only two completed but I already knew that number three was going to have to be fixed as well.

 

But back to sensing his breaking point. See, I've had so many tutors in the past that I can now predict, with impeccable accuracy, the moment when they give up on me and ask for a reassignment. This cross-school tutoring program promised results and I was the only one sullying the otherwise successful reputation. I'm sure that soon my principal will approach me in private and ask for my withdrawal. It's not like it's helping me anyways.

 

Yasuo though, was a quitter from the get-go. The second I met him he was already planning his excuse for a reassignment. I've sort of developed a notorious namesake in the program. I've been deemed unteachable, a lost cause. It was practically stamped on my permanent record after The Shuichi Minamino dropped me, and then dropped out of the program entirely. That's right, I managed to be so stupid that even The freakin' Shuichi freakin' Minamino gave up on me after not even two weeks and he didn't even want to stay around to try anyone else. Sad, I know.

 

Yasuo sighed, trying to extinguish his aggravation. “Nakashima, you need to get this problem right. You need to prove to everyone that you are not a hopeless moron who can't even solve a simple math problem,” he emphasized several words to prove his degree of seriousness. It was a ridiculously high degree too.

 

“Do you think I want to fail?” I asked. “Do you think I enjoy being stupid and irritating people with my stupidness?”

 

“Stupidity,” he replied through clenched teeth. He looked in pain.

 

“Stupidity?”

 

“Yes!” he burst. “`Stupidness' is not a word, it is `stupidity'!”

 

Well, you just proved my point Yasuo.

 

He exhaled heavily. “You cannot seriously be this dumb! You just can't!” He leaned back in his seat. “I mean, it's impossible,” he turned to me. “Do you really think you're going to get anywhere in life, that you're ever going to be successful?” His accusations hurt, they really did. But he just continued on to proclaim, “How do you even expect to marry? No normal-human-being would ever want to marry you.”

 

Ouch. That one cut a little too deep.

 

I stared at him blankly, trying to hide how truly upset I was. And I was upset. You don't tell a girl that no one will ever want to marry her. I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice from cracking, and matched his gaze with a steady one. “If you want to request a reassignment, you should do it now. I believe that we are done here. You have clearly exhausted all energy and resources meant to help me.”

 

Yasuo pushed his chair from the table, grabbed his things, and excused himself without a word. He never gave me a second look. Oh well, no skin off my back. He could say as many mean things to me as he wanted, and he will still always be a quitter. So, in a way, I pulled one over on him. He failed to teach me, he lost, not me. I was unbeatable. No one could break my record.

 

Although, this wasn't exactly a record to be proud of. And despite Yasuo, the little nerdy-punk from Meiou, being beaten by me, I was still the loser in the end.

 

* * *

 

The girls flew by in colored blurs, executing perfect flips and jumps, landing firmly on their feet with ease and grace. Their coach on the sidelines, shouting maneuvers and stunts, clapped her hands with each order for emphasis.

 

“Keep your toes pointed! Pointed toes!”

 

She would then quickly turn her attention to a girl on the bars. “Don't bend your knees! Strong legs, strong legs!”

 

And it continued. The petite gymnast coach running around, crying out critiques and only moving on once the problem was corrected.

 

“Ayame, don't you slouch those shoulders!”

 

I searched for Ayame. She was on the balance beam currently performing her routine. Through her flourish of hand movements and fluid arm sweeps, I don't think she even knew what the word “slouching” meant. Her shoulders were straight and strong even when tumbling from the beam. Not that that was often. Ayame was easily one the best gymnasts on the team.

 

After finishing with the beam and walking to the bleachers to grab her water bottle, shoulders still straight, she finally noticed me. Even from sitting at the opposite side of the gym, I could still see her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

 

I deflated with a sigh. Ayame was going to give me hell trying to figure out why I was here waiting for her instead of the other way around. I never met up with her. She was the one to wait on me to finish with my tutoring. Sometimes I wondered how amazing it would be to be an only-child.

 

I gave my older-sister a little wave but she just looked away in return. So much for family first. I sat patiently until their practice was over, watching everyone run around and do their acrobats. When the coach told everyone to hit the showers, I grabbed my things and waited outside of the building for Ayame to join me.

 

She came out fifteen minutes later with a scowl on her face. She continued on down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, not even glancing at me. I took that to mean she didn't want to dawdle with small talk. Grabbing my things, I hurried after her.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Geeze, the girl won't even give me a second to collect my bearings before giving me the third degree.

 

“What do you mean?” I feigned ignorance.

 

Her eyes narrowed but she continued not looking at me. “Why are you here, at the Gym, instead of at the library? I'm supposed to meet up with you, not the other way around,” she clarified in a clipped tone.

 

I finally managed to match her quick pace. For a short person she sure knew how to walk.

 

“My practice was cancelled,” Technically true, my practice was cancelled. “And then Yasuo let me leave early.” I had to think about that one for a second. I guess it wasn't a bold-faced lie either, seeing as how he did let me leave early. By quitting on me of course. But Ayame didn't need to know that. Honestly, my sister was too nosey for her own good.

 

Judging by her frown, Ayame still didn't feel I was justified in meeting her for once.

 

“You should be happy,” I tried. “You don't have to walk all the way to the library and wait for me this time. We'll get home faster. Maybe we should do this everyday!”

 

Yeah, especially since I wouldn't have practice to worry about after school.

 

Ayame still didn't seem convinced. But then she appeared to be dejected about something. Maybe something else was bothering her?

 

“What's the matter?”

 

She glanced at me from the corner of her eyes.

 

Alright, so that's a good sign. At least she looked at me. I must be on the right track.

 

“Is it school?”

 

Her eyes snapped back to the front and her pace quickened a beat.

 

Okay, so that was wrong.

 

“Gymnastics?”

 

The speed again turned up a notch.

 

“Parents?”

 

She was practically speed-walking now and I had to admit it was somewhat humorous. A short girl wearing the Meiou High issued magenta uniform power-walking down the sidewalk and looking like a waddling duck, in pink, garnered the attention of several bystanders.

 

I would also imagine that I myself wasn't as serious looking as I intended. I was practically skipping every other step to keep up with the little hot-head, plus I had to hunch my back in order to lean down to hold a conversation with her.

 

Well, I was left with only one option and I would have said it first but I just couldn't pass up an opportunity to tick off Ayame after she was being a jerk. I straightened up and swung my book case behind my back to clasp my hands. I appeared to be thinking about the next guess.

 

“Is it a boy?”

 

Ayame halted right in place and glared up at me. “Why are you still talking to me?! Do you ever stop talking?!” Her face had taken on the color of her uniform.

 

I blinked down at her, completely unfazed by her outburst. Seriously, I had already lived through Ms. Sasaki's volcanic eruption and lived to tell about it. Some puny little five-foot-two-for-nothing wasn't going to intimidate me. Especially if I could use her head as an armrest.

 

“So it is a boy?”

 

She roared in annoyance and took off once more down the pavement at a break-neck speed. I easily caught up with her.

 

“Which boy is it?”

 

Ayame growled out a warning but I was having too much fun. After a whole day of being kicked around I needed my moment to feel like top-dog.

 

“You know,” I sighed. “It would be much easier, not to mention less time consuming, if you would just tell me the boy's name. I don't want to have to go through the entire male student body especially if I don`t even know all the guys at your-”

 

“Alright,” she rounded on me. “It's Shuichi Minamino. Happy now?”

 

Wait, The Shuichi Minamino? As in, The freakin' Shuichi freakin' Minamino? The same genius who couldn't cure my dumbness? Wow, small world.

 

“What about him?”

 

Ayame surprisingly didn't quicken her steps. She looked down at the concrete. “Girls have been flirting with him even more than ever.”

 

Well, no surprise there. He was devastatingly handsome.

 

“Why are they flirting with him more than ever?”

 

She sighed. “Because the term is almost over and graduation is coming up. They all want to know where he's going next and what his phone number will be.”

 

I decided to go out on a limb. “Are you two dating or something?”

 

Ayame's pace gradually decreased. “No,” she heaved a sigh. “I just really like him.”

 

I thought about the situation to myself quietly for a moment. Ayame was no stranger to boy problems. She always seemed to have a new boy every now and then that would be tormenting her emotions. Not that she gets around a lot or anything but she does dabble in the dating pool often. But this was the first time hearing about The freakin' Shuichi freakin' Minamino.

 

Glancing down at her, I could tell she really had it bad for the guy. I hated seeing her so downhearted and instantly felt regret for actually enjoying angering her.

 

“You really have it bad for him, huh?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah, I really do. I mean, it`s not totally mind boggling since I`ve known the guy since first grade. It's just so hard listening to those girls talk about him in such a perverse way. Of course, he is really attractive but you don't have to talk about wanting to-to do unspeakable things to him if you had the chance. It's disgusting and I have to hear it every day,” she struggled with her words.

 

Okay, to some extent I could see where these girls were coming from. Like I said before, he was devastatingly handsome. But no normal, sane, self-respecting person would actually go through with anything like that. I brought that up, hoping to quell some of her gloominess.

 

Unfortunately, Ayame seemed to deflate even more. How can a girl be so down in the dumps because of a guy?

 

“Knowing them, and hearing what they say everyday, I think they would actually do it.”

 

After rolling that statement through my head for a while, I asked, “Are these your gymnastic-buddies?”

 

Ayame nodded sullenly. “Every damn day,” she mumbled to herself.

 

I gave her a pity-pat on the shoulder. You know, one of those soft pats on the back to express your sympathy. I really didn't know what else to say. I wish I could say that I would run back into that locker room and start taping buns together. I'm not that person though. Ayame, no matter how much she would deny it and act like she really doesn't care that much about me, she would do it if I asked her. If asked her right now to run up to Ms. Sasaki and break her arm over a desk, she'd do it. Ayame was a hero, a protector. My protector. I was the little sister who looked up to her and admired every single thing about her. Even the less than positive things. She was immortal in my eyes. Nothing could destroy her.

 

* * *

 

Opening the door to my room, I was welcomed immediately by my bed. After hastily dropping my book bag and track duffle bag on the floor beside my desk, I collapsed on top of my bed and was enveloped in warmth and security.

 

I hadn't realized how tired I was until now. I closed my eyes to revel in the feeling of relaxation. Here at home, no teachers could yell at me, no coaches could bar me from running, no tutors could give up on me, and no math problems could taunt me. I was perfectly safe within these four walls.

 

Closing my eyes, I inhaled the sweet sense of haven that my comforter offered. Silence seeped into my room from the hallway and I stilled as my breathing slowly deepened. Hello darkness my old friend.

 

Soothing seconds crept by.

 

A sharp shriek pierced the silence and my eyes flew open. A groan of annoyance slipped past my lips as I buried my head roughly in my pillow at an attempt to regain peaceful surroundings.

 

“I'm okay!” Ayame announced from the kitchen.

 

Sighing, I shouted back, “What happened?”

 

“Just dropped a pan of hot, boiling water! Nothing major!”

 

I groaned again. Ayame was amazing when it came to gymnastics, and pretty much everything else in life. But as soon as she entered a kitchen it was like everything became a death-weapon lathered in butter that pinned her directly as a target. And being the oldest, Ayame took up the responsibility of getting dinner started for our parents.

 

It was easier this way I guess. Mom and Dad always came home at a time that would be too late to begin preparing dinner. So, Ayame would do the preparation and then when the parents got home, one of them would take over and finish. Usually it was Mom. Dad and I were left cleaning up afterwards but it was more fair that way.

 

“Are you hurt?” I asked, even though truthfully I wasn't that worried.

 

“Nope, not really, not terribly. Nothing a band-aid can't cover-”

 

“Keep saying those things and I'll start believing you really are hurt,” I interrupted.

 

A pause, and then, “Where did Mom put the bandages?”

 

I had to think for a moment. You know, most mothers put those sorts of supplies in the bathroom or kitchen or something like that but not our Mom. She's always putting things in strange places. Ayame and I had to convince her not to place the phone and answering machine in the bathroom. It took some heavy persuasion to get her to put it in the living room.

 

Bingo.

 

“It's in the drawer in the living room,” I answered.

 

I heard her mutter something darkly but I couldn't make it out. Probably something about crazy mothers putting things in weird places. A second later my sister replied with a loud “thanks” and left me to return to my silence.

 

But woe is me. Silence never revisited me. In its place, my sister barged in my room carrying a swirling energy of fury with her. She began shouting and demanding an explanation on how I could be such a deceiver.

 

My body screamed how it didn't want to do this right now but I ignored it and pushed myself up, turning to Ayame.

 

“What are you shouting about now?”

 

A bandage wound itself around her ankle and up to her calf. Her shoes and socks were also missing. Her face was red again like her uniform. “Guess who left a message on the machine?”

 

I shrugged. “I don't know, who?”

 

My simple shoulder-shrug seemed to have ticked her off even more. Fine, next time I'll remember not to move.

 

“Ms. Sasaki.”

 

That name. There was that name again. Damn that blasted woman. She just would not leave my life alone.

 

“What'd she say?” This time I remembered to stay completely still when talking.

 

My immobility seemed to have pleased Ayame since she brought her volume down several hundred decibels. Crossing her arms she answered, “She said that you were causing a disruption in class today. This is your math teacher correct?”

 

Nod.

 

“She described, in great detail, how you simply refused to answer a simple math problem and even after giving you several more chances to cooperate and participate in the day's lesson, you continued your `ignorance act'. Then, she said that you had to be sent to the Nurse's Office since you were too much of an interruption in the studious flow of the class.”

 

Ignoring the urge to raise my eyebrows, because I still haven't mastered the single-eyebrow-raise, I stared at Ayame for a few moments. I had to gather my thoughts before I released my side of the story that had actually happened. Seriously, did Ms. Sasaki think that by using descriptive words she could make her little tale true?

 

“How do you respond to such allegations?”

 

Ayame is such a Meiou nerd.

 

I licked my lips, still somewhat pulling thoughts together. “Well,” I started slowly. “First off, she's lying.”

 

Ayame bobbed her head in a “I got some attitude” way. “Oh, so then the other messages are lies as well?”

 

This time I couldn't stop my eyebrows from raising before they had already disappeared up into my bangs. “Other messages?”

 

She nodded spasmodically. See, I can be a Meiou nerd too with my vocabulary. “Yeah, your track coach left a message about having to 'bench' you for the rest of the term because of failing grades. And then your tutors-program-director called to inform Mom and Dad of you not taking the program seriously. And also that Yasuo asked for a transfer.” Pause to let it sink in, and then, “Are those lies too? Exaggerated stories fabricated because they're 'out to get ya'?”

 

Okay, sarcasm was not needed. But oh no, she didn't stop there. She couldn't just let this one go.

 

“Wait till Mom and Dad hear about this.”

 

That threat motivated me enough to jump off my so called safety-bed in alarm. “You can't tell them Ayame,” I explained loudly. Maybe shouting will really get my point across? “They'll freak out! They'll have a-”

 

“Cow,” she interrupted calmly. “Yeah, I get it.

 

“No!” I shouted back. “They'll have an aneurism! You can't tell them!”

 

“They have to know Hana.”

 

Well, aren't you just perfect little angel. Taking the side claiming that it's what's best for the parents.

 

I sputtered for a comeback. Really, anything would do right about now. “Well,” I struggled for a moment before I could finally latch on to a thought. “You haven't told them about being in love with Shuichi!”

 

Ayame gaped at my obviously stupid comparison. Yeah, I know, you don't have to tell me how terrible it was. “That-that's none of their business!”

 

Oh, surprise, surprise. It actually did throw her for a little loop. Maybe I should mention Shuichi more often. “Exactly. And this too, is none of their business,” she opened her mouth to say something. “I can handle it Ayame. Just give me a little time.”

 

“How can you handle it Han? We were all planning to go to your track meet next weekend. You'll have to tell them that you can't run because of your grades. And then they'll learn about your failing grades and you'll have to tell them about Ms. Sasaki. And then, they'll speak with the tutors director about a more qualified tutor and learn about how you've managed to make countless quit on you already.”

 

A domino effect. Once I tell them one thing, they'll just immediately find out about the rest. She was right, there really was no hiding all of this.

 

“Can I at least be the one to tell them and explain my side?”

 

Ayame shrugged. “Sure, if that's all you really want.”

 

“Yeah, it really is,” I nodded.

 

“You have the next twenty-four hours to break it to them Hana. Do it soon,” she advised on her way out.

 

I collapsed on my bed in exhaustion. It was a weird feeling. I was tired yet full of energy. Maybe because I subconsciously realized that my life was slowly drowning away in stress?

 

The gym bag captured my gaze. It began to call out to me to unzip it and change into the clothes waiting for me inside. No, I can't run now. My parents were going to be home soon and I had twenty-four hours to plan out my confession and possibly even my will. Running would have to wait. It would be irresponsible of me to go out. I can't run. I can't run. I can't run, run, run, run, run, run, run-

 

I growled in annoyance. This was agonizing. I couldn't even go a whole day without running. Was I just going to sit the rest of this season out? I'd lose my spot next year. It was understandable. The other girls still have practice but I don't; so, I'm more inclined to sit around and get out of shape while they continued improving. There was no way I was going to just sit around and let some other girl take my spot.

 

Except for maybe Masako. But she doesn't run the same events as me so it wouldn't matter that much anyways. Besides, she secretly hates running so it wouldn't mean anything to her. Her real passion is for animals. She aspires to be a zoologist or a veterinarian or something to that effect.

 

Run.

 

I glared back at the gym bag. It was so darn relentless. I stood with a defeated groan. I had been overpowered by a clothed inanimate object. Pathetic.

 

The change from school clothes to gym clothes happened in a flurry. One minute I was staring indecisively at my gym bag and then the next I was sneaking out the front door in all running garb.

 

The park was virtually empty. No surprise there. The temperature had dropped to ten degrees and would only continue to steadily fall throughout the night. Regardless of the chill, after the third lap I had to discard my jacket. My body was cranking up the heat well enough on its own.

 

After that, things started running together. No pun intended. The laps seemed continuous and never-ending. I guess I blanked out or something and just fell into a mechanical motion.

 

Somewhere among all those laps I began to tire. I stopped, got a drink of water from a fountain, and began the walk home.

 

Halfway through my way back I ran into someone.

 

“Hana, what are you doing out here after dark?”

 

I suppose I was surprised but I couldn't quite remember how to identify emotions because standing right in front of me, out of all the people in this entire world, was The freakin' Shuichi freakin' Minamino.

 

I struggled to form a sentence for a couple of moments before stringing a few words together. How I managed that I have no idea.

 

“Hey, Shuichi.”

 

Alright, so it was more like a “couple” of words instead of a “few”. But even those two words were hard enough to spit out as it is.

 

He stared at me quizzically, waiting for an explanation.

 

“I just got finished running!” I sealed my awkward declaration with an awkward laugh. My eyes roamed over everything else but the gorgeous man in front of me. “At the park,” I added, again awkwardly.

 

He nodded slowly, not quite getting over the strangeness of our run-in.

 

“Aren't you cold?”

 

My jacket. I left it at the park!

 

“Oh, I guess I forgot my jacket at the park.”

 

Smooth.

 

Shuichi didn't seem all that surprised. He did have to spend everyday with me after school and, at that time, practice for two weeks. Ten whole days. And with his insanely-high level of observation, he basically knew all of my mannerisms.

 

Before I could register what he was doing he already had his coat off and extended towards me.

 

“Here,” he offered. “I'll walk you home.”

 

Stunned, I accepted the coat and slipped it on with a small “thanks”. I really wasn't going to turn down an offer like that! Who in their right mind would turn The freakin' Shuichi freakin' Minamino? I may be stupid, but I'm not crazy.

 

I don't remember any feelings of uncomfort during the walk. We conversed lightly and easily enough. He was the one who mostly directed the conversation though. He would ask me a string of questions and after giving my answers I would ask him the same ones in return. It's what some would call “pleasant conversation”.

 

Before long we came upon my house and he left me with his coat, promising to come back for it another day. I walked to the door alone and was flooded with exhaustion. I needed to sit down for a second to collect myself.

 

Once my back hit the wall, my eyes closed and I was out.

 

I jumped awake when the front door opened. My dad peered down at me curiously.

 

“What are you doing down there? Don't you know it's freezing out here? Come on inside, your mother has dinner ready on the table. Your sister told us you went out running, why would you do that?”

 

I sluggishly pulled myself up and just ignored my father's comments and questions. I was too tired to acknowledge him. And now I had to sit through a dinner with parents and sister.

 

Wasn't there something I was supposed to tell my parents?

 

My dad followed me into the dining room and I took my place across from Ayame while he sat next to me, across from our mom.

 

My mom greeted me with a warm smile while Ayame stared. I returned the gestures accordingly. After the food and plates had been passed around, she was still staring. I quickly found that I couldn't focus on our parents' discussion with her looking at me like that.

 

“What?” I asked quietly, trying not to interrupt the adults.

 

“You look terrible,” she answered bluntly.

 

“Be nice Ayame,” Mom scolded.

 

She shrugged and responded, “It's true. She's sweaty-”

 

“I was running.”

 

“She smells like dirt and even has some on her face-”

 

That one was a little more difficult to explain. I didn't even know I had dirt on my face. “The trail through the woods is dirt,” I mumbled to myself.

 

“And,” she continued. “She has scratches on her neck and a couple on her cheeks.”

 

The table turned silent as everyone stared at me, waiting for an explanation. But how could I clarify something that I don't even remember happening. It didn't happen.

 

Right?

 

I paused for a moment. I could have really used a mirror since I apparently didn't know what shape I was in at the moment.

 

“I'm clumsy.” It was better than nothing I suppose.

 

Mom and Dad found it amusing and even cracked a chuckle or two. But Ayame's intense stare still remained. I smiled sheepishly.

 

It's not like I was purposely trying to hide anything. I didn't even know there was something to hide.

 

After calming down, we all resumed dinner. Dad talked about the new hired employee and how frustrating it was to have to keep fixing his mistakes over and over again. Then Mom would comment on whatever adorable puppy she had to neuter or spade that day.

 

Ayame just stared at me. It was really starting to get annoying.

 

“Oh, and Hana,” my mother addressed me. I looked up politely. “About your track meet next weekend, do you want us to bring you anything to drink or eat? Maybe some oranges?”

 

Oh right, that's what I was supposed to tell them.

 

“About that,” I paused, not really knowing how to explain everything to them. I scratched the back of my neck and felt something sticky. Drawing back my hand I found it covered in blood. I stared at it in disbelief.

 

“Oh my God, Hana, what happened?” my mother asked, worried.

 

“I don't know.” How could I have not noticed a gash on the back of my neck?

 

My father took my hand and gently turned my head down so that he could check it out. He whistled. “That's a pretty nasty cut there kid-o. We need to get it cleaned up.”

 

“But where did it come from?” Ayame pondered darkly. I knew she was out to get me.

 

“I'm clumsy remember.” I reminded through clenched teeth. I seriously had no clue where the scratches and now gash had come from. I had no recollection of ever being cut so this was all news to me.

 

“What are you hiding?” Ayame mouthed from across the table.

 

Good thing I couldn't read lips. I'd probably end up pounding the life out of her or something. I shook my head at her, signaling that I didn't understand. My dad lifted me form my seat and led me to the bathroom where my mom joined us. They cleaned out the wound and wrapped a bandage around my neck. Looking up in the mirror I glared. Great, I looked like I tried to slit my throat.

 

“Don't be so upset honey, we can have it taken off in the morning,” Dad assured.

 

“Do you think she'll need stitches?”

 

My dad shook his head and answered, “No, it's not bleeding anymore. I think it should be fine.”

 

I didn't feel fine. I had a freakin' gash on the back of my neck and no recollection of how it got there. Not to mention I still had to be the bearer of bad news and break it to my parents about school, the meet, and the tutor. I tried once more to tell them but they just shrugged me off, telling me to go on to bed, that I've had a long day. I did indeed have a long day and so I happily obeyed their orders, retiring to my warm bed once more for some much needed sleep. I also wanted to think about whatever it was I couldn't remember.

 

But no matter how hard I tried, it was like a cloud had settled over and it wouldn't allow me to recall a thing.