Shadow

feared me, maybe even despised me. If she didn’t yet, she would soon. Not answering her texts, spending time with another girl. Yeah, I was leading a second life—one she’d hate me for.

I felt the shame, the anger, the uselessness of it all.

I folded a corner of myself and tucked it neatly away.

The price of being marked.

Chapter Eleven

Katie

Diane practiced the walk through Sunpu Park with me for an entire week before school started and I still managed to get lost on the first morning of classes.

“I decided not to send you to an International school,” she’d told me. “You’ll learn faster if you go to a regular Japanese high school.”

“You’re joking,” I’d said, my mouth agape.

She’d shaken her head. “You have it in you. I know it.”

But apparently I couldn’t even make it to school without help. The paths through Shizuoka Station wound underground and split off into unmarked pathways. I’d been seconds away from asking a frightening Buddhist monk for directions, his face hidden under his giant pointy woven hat, a bell in one hand and a bowl for alms in the other. But then I’d seen a pack of students in the same navy-and-white uniform as mine and followed them sheepishly out of the labyrinth, all the way to the Suntaba School gate.

I searched the numbers in the genkan for the cubby that was supposed to be mine. I pulled on the white school slippers and whirled through the maze of corridors.

Great. Lost again. But at least so were all the other freshmen.

“Can I help you?” a girl said in Japanese. She held a clipboard list, and had a little badge pinned to her chest. But—surprise, surprise—I didn’t know the kanji on the clasp. I’d improved a lot with cram school, both in New York and the one I’d started since I arrived in February, but fluency still lay just beyond my reach.

“Um,” I answered in Japanese. “I’m Katie Greene?”

The girl stared at her list as my cheeks blazed red. It was like some sort of test, except we both knew I was a fraud. My Japanese embarrassed both of us.

“Here we are,” she said. “1-D. Follow me.” I followed.

We passed room after room with narrow windows along the side, until I saw the little white sign that marked the classroom as mine.

“Thanks,” I said and the girl nodded, eager to get away. Funny. I’d thought making friends would be easier than that.

The rows of desks were nearly empty, students gathered in groups discussing the winter break. The homeroom fell silent as I entered.

“Um,” I said. “Hi.” I bobbed my head in a tiny bow. No one said anything. My legs felt like they’d give out, so I sat down at a desk near the back. Still nothing. I could almost hear the crickets.

O-kay. Not the reception I’d expected. It was hard to breathe then, like my chest had constricted. What was I doing here anyway? I’d been wrong—there was no life for me here. This was all a mistake. God, I hoped Nan and Gramps could pull things together quickly so this could be done with.

“Ohayo!” yelled out a girl as she entered the classroom, and the students buzzed with activity again.

“Morning!” they shouted back as she joined the group, and the chatter enveloped the silence.

I unpacked my book bag slowly, trying to look busier than I was. I dropped my pen with a clatter, and a few of the students looked over and giggled, then lowered their voices. Great. Now I was the topic of conversation. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around the pen as it rolled away.

“They’re shy because they think you’re an exchange student,” said a voice, and I looked up from the floor. A girl sat backward on the chair in front of me, her shoulder-length hair pulled up in a messy bun. “And they don’t want to get attached in case we all cry when you leave.”

“Oh,” I said.

“But I heard you’re permanent. Is that true?”

Maybe? No—I couldn’t think like that. I just had to survive until I could go home. This world was too foreign for me. Mom was right to stick to home soil.

“For now,” I said.

The girl raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She smiled. “I’m Watabe Yuki,” she said, using her last name first.

“Katie Greene,” I said. “Wait, I mean, Greene Katie? From Albany. Well, New York.”

“You can call me Yuki.” She smiled. “That’s more what you’re used to anyway, right? And I’ll call you Katie. You don’t have to reverse your name. We don’t expect you to.”

“Okay,” I said. She spoke slowly, making sure I understood her.

“Suzuki-sensei asked me to help you get settled into class,” she said, and my heart fell. So she was only being nice because she had to be. But then she waved a hand back and forth.

“Chigau yo,” she backtracked. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She switched to English. “Someday I want to be a famous designer and live in New York. So let’s be good friends, okay? Then I can speak English better and we can help each other.”

She spoke well already, but I nodded as she grinned.

“Ohayo!” yelled a boy as he entered the room. Yuki turned her head and then pushed herself upright, the chair legs squeaking against the floor.

“Tan-kun!”

“Ohhhh, Yuki-chan!” Tan-kun shouted, striding toward her. He pushed his black-rimmed glasses up with the back of his hand as he approached. His hair stuck up in short, spiky angles, and he was tall and skinny, his smile broad and confident. “So you’re in this homeroom, too? Yokatta ne! Thank god. I feel so shy on my first day!”

Somehow I doubted that was true. It was hard to follow all the slang they used, but I was pleased to understand fragments at least. They chatted and laughed for a minute before Yuki remembered my existence.

“This is Tanaka Ichirou,” she said, waving her hand up and down like he was a prize on a daytime TV show.

“Hi Tan-kun,” I said, and they exchanged a worried glance.

“Um,” Yuki said quietly, leaning toward my ear. “You don’t really know each other yet. Maybe ‘Tanaka’ for now, okay? It’s more polite.”

My face blazed red and the humiliation stung. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

“Heiki, heiki,” Tanaka smiled. “No problem.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you.” Yuki grinned. “And Tan-kun, this is Katie Greene from New York.”

“Oh!” he said, waving a hand in the air. “New York? Like with the Statue of Liberty and Central Park and everything?”

“Uh, not exactly. I’m just from the state—from Albany.”

“Ah.” His face fell.

Wow. Ten minutes in and I’m a disappointment already.

“Tanaka and I went to the same junior high,” Yuki said. “We took the entrance exam for this senior high school together.”

“And of course I scored higher.” He grinned.

Yuki smacked his arm. “You did not!”

“Jealous!”

They flailed at each other as I sat awkwardly watching them. Yuki was sweet, but Tanaka was so loud. He