her forehead, and held her close. Kara wanted to pull away-the two of them still had things to work out-but now wasn’t the time.
“That’s why you needed a ride home?”
She nodded.
“Did Miho get a look at the person chasing her?”
“Not a good one,” Kara replied.
Her father took a deep breath and went to his window. From there he could see the pagoda shape of the school in the distance.
“Miho’s in the Noh club,” she went on. “So were Daisuke and Wakana.”
“You’re suggesting they didn’t run away.”
Kara stared at his back. “Do you think they did?”
“Not anymore.”
Even as he turned toward her, he picked up the phone and began to dial.
For three days in the middle of August, the spirits of the dead returned to Japanese households to spend time with their ancestors-at least, according to the Buddhist festival of Obon. Kara didn’t pretend to understand the significance of this, but she tried. Some Buddhists-mostly older people-seemed truly to believe that the spirits of their ancestors came to visit them, but for the most part Obon seemed to have taken on a more secular presence in local culture. In other words, to a lot of people, it was all about the pretty lights.
Not that she was making any judgments. The idea of ghosts hanging out in the house for a few days seemed creepy enough to her even before factoring in the family reunion element. Granted, she would have loved to believe that her mother’s spirit could be there with her, sharing space, watching over her. It warmed her heart to think of it. But her father’s mother had been a cranky, hateful old woman who complained all the time, bossed people around, and had clammy hands. She’d smelled weird, too. No way did Kara want her ghost hanging around.
On the last day of Obon, tradition required that paper lanterns be lit and floated on water, usually down a river or stream. This was called toro nagashi. Similar rituals were performed at other times-in Hiroshima, for instance, on the anniversary of the day the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the city. But despite the ghosts that were involved, the lantern festival was usually not such a grim affair.
Miyazu City was widely acknowledged to have the greatest toro nagashi festival in the country, complete with spectacular fireworks. For the most part, it seemed like a big party to her. Ten thousand paper lanterns in varying colors would be set adrift in the bay, floating gently out to sea as the sun set. The lanterns represented the ghosts of dead ancestors, returning to the spirit world after their three-day visit. People gathered all up and down the beach on Ama-no-Hashidate to watch. Musicians played. Kids splashed in the water. Under normal circumstances, Kara would have been happy and excited. But after what she and her friends had been through, an undercurrent of unease flowed just beneath the surface of every moment.
Her father hated the idea of her being out after dark, but just for this night, he had made an exception. For the most part, she would be on the beach with thousands of other people, and on the way home, she’d be walking with her friends, and she’d promised to be home no later than ten p.m., and earlier if possible.
But all that was for later. Right now, she sat on a straw mat on the beach, drinking flavored water and listening to the thunderous boom of the five guys who had set up taiko drums and were performing kumi-daiko, drumming as an ensemble. The sound got deep into her brain, thundered off the inside of her chest, and it made her feel remarkably there, in the moment, swallowed by Japan. Kara loved the drums, but was glad they weren’t any closer. The kumi-daiko guys would have drummed her right off the beach, they were so loud.
Vendors sold sweet cakes, drinks, all kinds of noodles, fried squid, and octopus dumplings. The fried squid were a bit chewy, but the octopus dumplings were astonishingly tasty, like the best sushi.
“Maybe we should talk about the plan,” Hachiro suggested as he plopped a dumpling into his mouth. A bit of something stuck to his lip and he licked it off, looking lovably silly.
Kara smiled. “Let’s wait for the others. Talk to me.”
“About what?” he asked, chewing.
“Anything,” she said, frowning. You’re my boyfriend, she wanted to say. We’re supposed to be able to talk. But that would be unfair. She and Hachiro could talk about anything and nothing with equal enthusiasm, and she never felt awkward with him. Well, almost never-whenever questions arose about where their relationship would lead, things got uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s sort of hard to think about anything else right now. When your girlfriend has a curse hanging over her head, other things don’t mean very much.”
Kara felt a warm happiness blossom in her chest. “Well done. Most guys can’t come up with that kind of spin so quickly.”
“I mean it,” Hachiro protested.
“I know you do. I’m teasing. Seriously, though. Talk about baseball. How are the Red Sox doing?”
Hachiro stared at her. “You’re from Boston. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be telling me?”
It was Kara’s turn to shrug. “I don’t care about baseball. You do.”
He couldn’t deny it, especially not with the Boston Red Sox cap perched firmly on his head. Hachiro seemed to think it over a moment, but then he warmed to the subject.
“They’re in a slump, actually. But that happens every year after the All-Star break. People lose faith in them, and then they come back. If we’re lucky, they don’t let it all fall apart in the end.”
Kara laughed. “Choke,” she said in English.
“What?”
“In English, we would say we hope they don’t ‘choke.’” Then she repeated the word in Japanese.
Hachiro nodded. “Choke.”
“There you go,” she said, reverting to Japanese. “Now you’re ready to live in Boston.”
His smile vanished, confusing her a moment before she realized where her words had led his thoughts. Kara would go back to Boston eventually. Without him. That knowledge hung over them always.
Her cell phone jangled. Saved by the bell, she thought as she slid it open. Sakura was calling.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
Kara glanced around. “Exactly where we agreed. More or less.”
The day they had gone to the beach together, they had sat on the seaside of Ama-no-Hashidate. Today, they needed to be on the bay side so they would be able to see the lanterns and the fireworks after it got dark, and they had decided to meet at a halfway point along the sandbar.
“No, you’re not. We’re here.”
Kara glanced around. “They’re here,” she said in response to Hachiro’s curious look, and he started to glance about as well. Both of them stood up, Kara turning in a circle, scanning the beach. A sea of faces looked back.
“I don’t see you,” she started. But then she caught a glimmer of bronze in the sun. “Oh, wait. Ren’s hair!”
Smiling, she waved, and a few seconds later, Miho, Sakura, and Ren weaved their way through the crowd and began to make camp with them. Towels and mats were spread out, Miho hid under the umbrella Hachiro had already set up, and Ren opened a greasy paper bag and pulled out a wooden stick skewered with a fried piece of unidentifiable fish. He grinned happily.
Sakura laid down on her belly, feet poking up, legs crossed at the ankles. Kara thought she looked beautiful, a modern, post-Goth version of the classic 1950s beach bunny. If only she would smile.
But there was little chance of that.
“Okay, we’re all here,” Sakura said, glancing at Miho. Then she focused on Kara. “What do we do now?”
Kara took a breath, preparing to speak. Why were they all looking at her? How had she become the one who made decisions like this? She didn’t know the answer, but it was obvious that they all needed a purpose-something to make them feel like they were doing something, instead of just waiting for the darkness to swallow them-and if she had to give them that purpose, she would.
“Step one went smoothly, as far as I can tell,” she said.
Miho nodded. “I think the police believed me.”
“Of course they believed you. It isn’t like you were pretending to be terrified,” Ren said.
Miho gave him a glance that was part grateful and part bemused. All of the awkwardness she had once
