—Please contact me if anything’s wrong.
—Thank you, I said with a bow.
I left the nurse’s room and headed back to my classroom. On the second floor, I edged my way along the wall and strained my ears near the door. Satisfied that no one was there, I entered. Before heading to my desk, I tore up the slip of paper from the nurse and tossed the pieces in the trash. As I was putting my books into my bag, a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and took a look. At the top was written, “How would you feel if Puke Girl died?” Underneath were two columns, one labeled “happy” and one labeled “sad.” Not a single tick mark was under “sad,” but a couple dozen were under “happy.” I crumpled up the paper and went to throw it away, but realizing that that might lead to trouble, I shoved it into my bag and rushed from the room.
I made a detour to avoid the playground and gym, and then exited by the rear gate. I was afraid someone might be there, but luckily, no one was. On my way home, I tried to stay near crowds as much as possible, even though that made the trip longer. I passed through the shopping district and then walked along the prefectural highway. It was a little over a kilometer to my house. When I’d made it halfway without meeting any of my classmates, I prayed that my good luck would continue for the second half. About two hundred meters from my house, I reached a cream-colored apartment building.
The eight-story building had been built about ten years ago. It was the tallest building in the area, and one of my classmates lived there. I looked up and saw a young woman looking down at me from the eighth-floor landing of the outside stairway. I passed through the nearly empty parking lot. Sensing the woman’s stare, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked at the ground. The stain on the asphalt still remained, even though the custodian had scrubbed the spot for a long time. Three months earlier, a woman in her mid-twenties had jumped from the landing on the eighth floor. A passerby had witnessed her climbing over the handrail. I saw the passerby making the statement on TV and also read about the incident in the newspaper. The media agreed with the police that it was suicide. The bloodstain was now so faded that if you didn’t know about the incident, you’d assume it was dirt. As I stared at the spot, I heard someone call my name. I looked up and saw the young woman leaning over the railing, still staring down at me. I have to stop her! I thought, and dashed up the steps.
I kept running until the fifth floor, but then I got worn out and had to walk. Finally, I made it to the eighth-floor landing. But nobody was there. From the railing, I could see the ocean beyond the rows of houses. Since it was slightly cloudy, the ocean looked more gray than blue. There wasn’t any circulation in the stairwell, so I had worked up a sweat. But on the landing, I could feel a pleasant breeze. Danger! Stay Away! read a sign on the railing written in red letters. Beneath it was a bouquet of withering white chrysanthemums wrapped in a dirty plastic sheet. It looked like it had just blown there by mistake. I gingerly placed my hands on the railing and looked over. The railing came up to my chest, but if I jumped as high as I could, I could probably pull myself up. The thought made my feet tingle and goose bumps stand up on my skin. The sweat under my arms and on my back made me shiver. On the asphalt below, I could see a young woman contorted into a strange shape. After a few seconds, the shape turned into a black shadow, which then faded into the asphalt and disappeared.
—Hey! What’re you doing there?
I turned around in surprise and saw a short man of about forty standing there with a phony smile.
—It’s dangerous there, so come over here to me.
He beckoned to me, but his eyes weren’t smiling. The railing knocked against my back, preventing my escape. Looking flustered, the man held out his right hand and moved closer.
—It’s okay. Look! You got nothing to worry about.
My body went stiff, and I couldn’t move. Stay away from me! I thought, but I couldn’t speak. Slowly, the man closed in on me. When he was about a meter away, he threw open his arms as if to hug me. I instinctively jumped to the side and pushed him away. He staggered back two or three steps and then fell on his backside. I slipped past him and ran down the steps.
—What the hell are you doing, you idiot! I was trying to help you!
His howl of protest was hurled at my back. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, so I raced down the steps without stopping. When I reached the landing and turned around, I was relieved that there was no sign of him. As I was catching my breath, a lump of concrete smashed into the ground right in front of me and shattered into pieces. I looked up and saw the man with another lump of concrete held over his head. Shouting incoherently, he hurled it at me. I jumped out of the way, and the concrete shattered on the ground right next to me. A fragment struck me in the ankle. As I raced toward the exit of the parking lot, other chunks of concrete came hurling toward me. All of them missed, but with each piece that struck the asphalt, I could feel another hole opening in my heart.
I kept running, even after reaching the sidewalk. But after another hundred meters, I was
