Actually, I know exactly why I’m crying. It’s because now I’ve felt that, too.
“I don’t trust it,” I say abruptly.
Eliza shakes her head at me. “What?”
“This feeling,” I say, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table. “Feeling like I fit with someone this way. It’s too . . .” I give Belle and Rory a rueful smile. “You know—Team Princess. I usually feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”
I expect them all to object to that. I expect Eliza to tell me that of course I belong at the dojo. For my sisters to tell me that I belong with them, because we’re family. I expect them to say all that and then for me to instantly reject the idea—because I know they’re just saying that. I know I don’t feel that way. It cannot be denied that I stick out like a sore thumb, and that their half-hearted protests are merely to make me feel better. They can try to “claim” me all they want, but I still don’t really belong to any of them.
“I get that,” Belle says.
My head snaps up. “Excuse me, what? You get that?”
She nods and pops the last bit of cone in her mouth. “Of course I do.”
“What?!” I repeat. “No. There’s no ‘of course’ here. Belle, you’re the freakin’ Nikkei Week Queen. One of the most popular kids at school. Your dog is an influencer—”
“Well, almost,” Belle corrects. “I’m still trying to get his follows up to where they need to be.”
“And you’re so confident,” I barrel on. “You’re always so sure about what you’re doing. How do you feel like you don’t belong?”
“Rika-chan.” Belle gestures expansively to her fabulous curves. “This is not what people think of as the perfect Japanese American girl body. Remember when Auntie Och tried to order us those cheap clothes from Japanese stores online? None of them fit me. I started getting boobs when I was eleven. I’m also loud. I talk too much. I date hot people of all genders. And I bring my dog to sacred Nikkei Week rituals.” She gives me a sardonic smile. “The elders who disapprove of you so much are not holding me up as a shining example for our people—trust me.”
“But . . .” I shake my head, my thoughts a tangle. “I love all of those things about you. And I’ve always admired how proud you are of them.”
“I am proud,” Belle says, drawing herself up in her seat. “I think I’m amazing. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel out of place sometimes, or that there aren’t people trying to tell me I don’t belong.”
“Yeah, me too,” Rory says. I notice that despite her best efforts, she’s dribbled ice cream on her makeshift cape. “Everyone sees me as this math genius, right? Which, to be fair, I totally am. But I also like other stuff. Like dancing and drawing and coming up with costumes. Remember when we drew all those yokai pictures for your room, Rika? That was so fun.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say, smiling softly at her.
“I wish people would see that I’m good at that stuff, too,” Rory says, her little face screwing into a look of consternation. “But people have already kinda decided who I am. The art clique kids all make fun of me when I try to ask them stuff, and the math club kids don’t understand why I want to waste my time with anything else. It’s like no one sees all of me, exactly. Because no one wants to.”
“I see you, Rory,” Eliza says, giving Rory one of her sweet smiles.
“Thank you,” Rory says primly, adjusting her cape.
“I feel that way, too, Rika,” Eliza says, turning to me. “A lot of the kids in our class have teased me for being an ‘Asian stereotype’ because I’m good at judo. Even though I am in fact a real person, not some cartoon character. And they seem to feel extra comfortable teasing me because I’m so nice.” She bites off the last word, glaring down at her ice cream.
“Wow, both kids and old people have the capacity to be massive assholes,” Rory says.
We all laugh, needing the release. I look at each of them, taking this all in. It blows my mind that they all have felt this way. That belonging isn’t as easy for other people as I seem to think it is.
That everyone, at some point, doesn’t feel like a whole version of themselves.
I guess I’ve always seen them a certain way—like they were on one side of a fence, the side where you have exactly what you need to magically fit in. Belle’s confidence. Rory’s brilliance. Eliza’s sweetness. I was always on the other side, bad-tempered and uncomfortable in my own skin.
But as it turns out, we were actually together—there was no fence. They can understand me. We can understand each other.
I feel that door to my heart cracking open a tiny bit more.
“Hey,” I say. “I really love you all.”
“Oh, Rika-chan,” Belle says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Of course we love you, too. Now.” Her eyes narrow shrewdly. “We’ve heard your plan for trying to track down Grace tomorrow. But what about your plan with Henry? Are you going to do more stuff?”
I laugh and glance down at my phone. I have a new text from Henry.
Just practicing my throw, it says. I used a pillow. But I wish I was throwing you instead.
My face flushes again.
I feel something bubbling up in my chest, something light and free, something that’s become weirdly familiar the past few days.
I realize that it’s hope.
Once upon a time, a beautiful princess was gifted with the keys to a glittering kingdom. As the prophecy foretold, it was there that she would finally
