Untitled- Chapter 4

Untitled- Chapter 4

My finger grazed the numbers on the phone as if it was some new, unknown technology. I skimmed all the numbers, stalling.
“Tooru, the number is right there, just dial it!” Mother barked.
Moving my finger to the 7 button sluggishly, I pushed it, the loud tone that followed ringing in my ears.
“Right, now the rest of the number?” I could hear her heel tapping against the kitchen’s floor.
I looked back down at the slip of paper with Alak’s number. The 6 tone. This is painful.
“Oh,” I took another glance at the paper, “That was wrong. I meant to push 3.”
Mother stared at me for a moment with a blank expression, then quickly tore his number from my hands. She slammed down the phone and picked it back up. She punched in the number and then shoved the phone near my ear.
“Now, when Alak answers, just apologize to him! Talk to Isshi, too!”
All I could hear was the ringing and my heartbeat quickening in pace. By the third ring, I panicked and scrambled to hang up.
“Tooru!” Mother grabbed hold of my arm, failing to keep me from putting the telephone back, “You need to say you’re sorry, that’s it.
I took her hand, attempting to ease her grip on me. Her old ring dug into my skin.
“I know, but—“ I took a deep breath, “Can I please call them later? Tomorrow, maybe?”
“Absolutely not!” Mother tore her hand away, looking terribly offended, “You’re going to do this, even if it kills you!”
That’s awfully mothering of you.
Mother took a deep breath, rubbing her head.
“Tooru, please. I really like Alak. I just want you to apologize because I don’t want to lose him.”
I don’t think you’re going to “lose someone” over that, honestly.
Tooru, are you doing all of this because you don’t want me dating? Because I’m not trying to replace your father, I’m really not. Is that what this is all about? All of this rebellion and faking sick and being a smart-ass?”
I didn’t dare say anything.
She put the phone in my hand, “Please just call them.”
My stomach turned and I swallowed hard. This time without hesitation, I pushed the “redial” button. Slowly, I moved it to my ear, holding on with both of my hands.
“Hello, this is Alak. Who is this?”
Pausing, I saw Mother make some kind of “go on” hand motion out of the corner of my eye.
“Um, hello. This is Tooru. I mean, this is our home phone number, you don’t seem to have it on Caller I.D. yet, and…” I trailed off.
“Oh,” Alak replied, sounding puzzled, “What are you calling for?”
“Uh, well, my mother— well, I wanted to apologize for last night. I’m sorry.”
Alak laughed, “No, it’s alright. It was a lovely dinner, and it was nice meeting you. Really, it’s me who should apologize to you. For my son’s behavior, I mean.”
I was surprised; he was considerably more likeable over the phone. Actually, he was being quite polite.
Before replying, I heard, “Who’s on the phone, dad?”
There was a thump, which I’m assuming was Alak clapping his hand over his telephone to drown out his response.
“It’s Tooru!” his muffled voice yelled.
“Oh! What does he want?” Isshi’s voice sounded distant; they must have been in different rooms.
“Isshi! Can you wait?”
“Can I talk to him?”
“No!” Alak took his hand off the phone, “I’m so sorry. What were you saying?”
“Actually, I do need to talk to Isshi,” I replied.
There was another conversation between the two (shouting again) before Isshi picked up.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Uh, not much?” I cleared my throat, “So, I’m sorry about last night. I was just not feeling well and—“
“Nah, it’s okay,” Isshi interrupted, “How’re you feeling?”
“Better, thank you.”
“That’s good,” Isshi said, “Why’d you get sick, anyway? Some kind of stomach bug or something?”
“Mm, maybe…”
A long, crushing silence.
“Hey!” Isshi suddenly exclaimed, causing me to jump, “So, you’re coming to orientation, right?”
High school orientation? That was weeks away, why would he ask about that?
“Y-Yes, why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, I was just wondering. Maybe we can find each other there. You know, in the bleachers where they’ll be talking about the dress code and stuff.”
I doubt it. I didn’t get a second to respond before he started talking again:
“Hey, so I have to go now. I just got two calls— three calls on my cell-phone… Oh, so, bye! Feel better!”
Immediately after, there was a loud, “Why the hell did you just call me three times, is someone dying or—” and the phone clicked off.
I smirked, hanging up. Turning around, I was startled to see Mother still there, a wide grin on her face.
“So?” She clapped her hands together.
“So… they were both fine. Alak said it was a ‘lovely dinner’.”
“And? Anything else?”
I then told her word-by-word what was said.
Unexpectedly, Mother threw her arms around me and squeezed hard. She swung me left and right, choking me. I was used to this. After releasing me, she said in a rarely heard sincere tone, “Thanks, Tooru.”
I wanted to ask why she would thank me after all I had put her through, but instead I kept my mouth shut.
Mother whipped her head around, throwing some of her black hair out of place. She took a second to squint at the clock on the wall (her eyesight had been deteriorating as she got older), and then shrieked.
“I have to get to work now, okay?” she swept all her belongings off the table into her purse and ran to the living room, her heels clicking against the wood. Opening the door and seeing the gray clouds pouring rain, she snatched her coat off the couch where it had been draped across and wriggled into it. I became concerned for her slipping and hurting herself in her thin heels as I looked at the puddles forming on the front porch and down the sidewalk.
“I’ll be home around 7, I might be working late.”
She closed the door behind her before I could even wave.
I didn’t concern myself with her safety for too long before I lost interest. I had to put away the dishes, after all, and she could take care of herself well enough not to get killed.
As I carefully placed a stack of plates in the cupboard, I glanced over at the calendar on the side of the refrigerator. Since summer started, I marked each days passing with a large, red X. About two weeks away, “High School Orientation” was scribbled on in black Sharpie, and a week from that Mother wrote, “1ST DAY OF HIGH SCHOOL!!!!!!” in bold letters. Obviously, she was more excited than I was.

As I crossed out another day on that calendar with my red Magic Marker, everything seemed too close; I couldn’t believe this was happening. I crossed off another day. I don’t want this, how am I going to handle this? Another day X’ed out. Damn it, just one more week from today. Another X.
The last couple days before orientation, I asked Mother to mark the calendar because I just couldn’t stand to do it anymore.
“Oh, Tooru, this is so exciting! High school is almost here! Can you believe it?” she would yell to me from the kitchen as she swiped the pen across the calendar, “Are you as excited as me? Because I’m just so excited!”
“Can hardly wait, Mother.” I lied every time. Luckily, she never was able to catch onto sarcasm, despite how obvious it may be. I kind of doubt she ever listened, anyhow.
“And Alak told me Isshi is going to the same school… See, you already have a friend to talk to! Nothing to be nervous about!”
As if I would ever talk to him, much less consider him a friend. I’m planning on avoiding him at all costs, I don’t need someone so obnoxious clinging to me at the beginning of year; I might develop some kind of reputation I need to uphold.
“But you’re not nervous, are you, Tooru?” Mother looked at me from the kitchen. She was cooking dinner; I could smell something burning.
I looked up from the magazine I was reading (I didn’t even know what it was), “Hmm? Well, no, not really, I suppose.”
“You’re nervous, aren’t you? There’s nothing to be nervous about, really. What are you nervous about?”
What am I nervous about? I’m questioning whether she was really more anxious than I was.
“The homework is going to be just the same, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she continued, waving her wooden spoon as she spoke, “Your teachers won’t be as nice or forgiving as me, though!” She laughed at her own joke.

To clear up any confusion, I’ve been home schooled since 2nd grade. For reasons that have not been told to me yet, my parents put me into Elementary school, but pulled me out the year after. I haven’t been in a “real school” since (despite how much Mother wishes our home was considered a real school). I think I’m being put into high school this year because Mother is finally not able to balance both my schooling and her job. When dad was still here, he made enough money for us to get by. Things got worse, however, and Mother had to find a job, but the hours were short enough for her to continue her home schooling.
She got by for a while after dad was gone, but I think she just can’t balance me and her job now that she’s gotten higher up and the work hours have gotten long and grueling. So, she’s put me in the hands of the real teachers.
“You’ll do fine,” Mother said, turning away from her stove.
I looked up from my magazine, giving her an unsure look. No amount of reassurance could stop me from dreading that first day.
“Well, orientation is tomorrow. You’ll get the feel for the school, see the principal, get your schedule… Isn’t this exciting?”
Yes, I know it is exciting, Mother.
Looking out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hunched over the stove, staring at whatever she had ruined. Her shoulders dropped.
“You’re not hungry, are you, Tooru?”
“No, not really. Did you burn dinner again?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
I saw her dump some kind of charred object into the trash, sighing again.
She looked up from her failed experiment, “It’ll all turn out okay.” She flashed a grin at me, and my immediate reaction was a small smile on the corner of my mouth.

***

Pulling up to the giant, grey building, the reassuring feeling of “It’ll all turn out okay” immediately dissolved. All of the confidence built up over the last remaining days was crushed as I stared vacantly. The locks on the car door clicked open.
“Here,” Mother tossed her sleek, black cell phone on my lap, “Call the home phone when this thing is over, and I’ll come and pick you up.”
I wrapped my fingers around the phone, clutching onto it tightly. I didn’t want to do this.
In the parking lot were rows of seemingly identical mini vans or crappy, obviously hand-me-down cars from the 80’s. The people exiting the cars looked equally identical and shoddy.
As I drifted off, Mother elbowed me, unlocking and locking the doors several times as a “get out of the car!” hint. Tugging on the handle, it seemed unusually heavy; I strained to push open the door.
I stumbled onto the sidewalk, slamming the door behind me. Mother immediately started to make her way out of the parking lot, slowly maneuvering past the other moms who had to drop off their license-less kids.
My heavy-as-lead feet slowly inched toward the front doors of this new prison. Was I supposed to go in this way? No one else was. I waited until I saw an example. Surely enough, the first entrance you see was indeed the main entrance.
Hastily pushing the front doors open, I held it for a group of loud, older students who suffocated me against the glass as they shoved their way through. My nose was flattened against the surface and I inhaled the strong, chemical smell of Windex. I choked.
Great start.
I followed the people who nearly killed me, heart racing. I had no idea where to go, what the hell do you do at an orientation? Where is it held? Are these idiots even going the right way?
I kept a safe distance behind as they walked down the hallways, the rows and rows of tall lockers blurring as I passed by. Watching one of the oldest looking guys punch another, I heard faint voices. The group took a right turn, and what sounded like big, metal doors squealing along with an intensified sound of talking filled my head.
Forcing all my weight on the metal bars and shoving open the Gymnasium’s entrance, the size overwhelmed me. A huge, bright gym with columns of bleachers filled with students. There had to be thousands of teens.
I swiftly walked to the first row of bleachers and up the aisle in between, gripping onto the railing with both hands. I ran my eyes over the hundreds of students, some catching my gaze and glaring. Slowly, I treaded up the stairs, looking right and left for an open spot to sit, away from others. But, I had come later than everyone else, and not many open seats were in sight.
I stopped at the top of the bleachers, eyeing the other columns. With a sigh, I squeezed through the final row, bumping into everyone and getting cursed at two times. I stopped again, wanting desperately to find a place to sit and not be noticed anymore. This time at a quicker pace, I tripped down the stairs, hand gliding across the railing as my eyes darted around, searching.
About halfway down, I halted. At least five people could fit on a blindingly empty gap on the benches. But, standing out among everyone else was a spiky, blue and black head of hair, nodding and pointing at something at the ceiling. Next to him, a plain black haired kid, and then a bright pink headed girl.
Cautiously, I started down the steps again. I wanted to avoid him, but I wanted that barren area even more.
Coming closer, and pretending not to look his way, I expected to breeze past without him acknowledging me. In a way, it would be a relief.
“Tooru!”
I was spotted. I turned my head, acting as if I didn’t notice him before he had yelled my name (as if anyone could ignore that hair).
“So, you came, I’m impressed.” Isshi nudged the boy sitting next to him (the normal one) and he scooted over, bumping into the daydreaming pink girl.
“Do you want to sit it here? Well, unless you’re sitting with someone else…”
I could’ve said I was looking for a friend in the bleachers; I could have gotten out of it so easily.
“No, I don’t know anyone else here…” I found myself saying, slowly easing onto the seat that had been cleared for me. I glanced past Isshi, getting a glimpse of the people who were next to him. The black haired one looked normal, quiet, emotionless next to the pink haired girl, who was abnormally spacey. I assumed this was Jo, the girl that Isshi was grounded from seeing because of their hair.
“Look at this dress policy!” she suddenly said after a few seconds. She pointed at a large paragraph followed by a page of bulleted sections, “Page 6, look at this!”
The black haired boy leaned over her, squinting.
“It’s not that bad.”
The girl looked horrified and hiked her dress down. She put her focus back on the paper, scanning the regulations, “What does it say about hair?”
Isshi was watching, not seeming phased by the supposed horrific dress code. He then turned his attention to me.
“Oh, sorry!” He smacked his hand on the black headed boy’s shoulder, making him wince, “This is Ty.” Taking his hand off him, Isshi pointed to the girl, “That’s Jo, the one that my dad hates”.
“Hi,” she greeted blandly, skipping through the pages of the packet. Ty said nothing.
My hand went up, waving side to side, not accompanied with a hello. Not the friendliest group I’ve ever seen.
A loud burst of feedback echoed through the gym, almost seeming like an answer to the awkward greeting. Simultaneously, everyone groaned and cupped their hands over their ears. After a few seconds of metallic squealing, a man’s voice spoke over the student’s complaints.
“Hello, students. Everyone… Everyone, quiet now. Respect, please.”
Only a few hushed.
“This is your principal, Mr. Harp, and thank you for coming.”
Isshi fell forward, tucking his head into his knees and sighing melodramatically as the principal’s voice droned on. He stayed in this position for a couple minutes until Mr. Harp handed the microphone to a woman (the vice principal), when his head flew back up, hair out of place.
I moved my legs into the aisle off the bleacher, inching off. My butt slipped off the end and I caught the side of my seat, pulling myself back up. I whipped my head around; no one seemed to have noticed.
The principal then took the mic:
“Now for our school’s rules; go to page 3 of your packets and—“
I just realized: packet? What packet? Was I supposed to pick something up? I panicked, scrambling to see if there was something under my seat.
A bony elbow poked my side.
“Forgot it? Take mine, I already know it anyway.”
Hesitantly, I took the blue, stapled book from Isshi’s hand.
“Uhh… Thank you.”
“No problem, it’s the same every year. I don’t need to hear this again. I’m going to try to sleep or something like that.” He tucked his head in his legs again.
“Well,” I skipped to the page Mr. Harp has mentioned a minute before, “I’ve never heard this, so—“
Isshi groaned and then pulled a long cord from his pocket, and a large, clunky, white iPod from the other, so I took that as a clue to stop talking. He looked surprisingly calm as he put the headphones into his ears; completely unlike how he appeared before. I watched as he flipped his thumb over the scroll wheel and clicked several times. I tried to listen for anything blaring over the headphone speakers; some heavy metal, punk, something angry. I didn’t hear a sound.
“Ty, hey,” Jo had her hair out of its bun, holding her yellow rubber band in a fist, “Hold my ponytail while I put it back up, it’s really bugging me.”
Without a word (I was beginning to wonder if he could even speak), Ty took her hair, wrapping it into a tight bun as Jo quickly tied it back up. Was this some kind of daily deal they had? It seemed to be. These people have a weird relationship.
Catching me staring at them, Jo perked up.
“So, you’re Isshi’s friend?”
My toes curled. Why is everyone under this impression? I barely know him.
I glanced over and saw Isshi bobbing his head to his music; no way could he hear me.
“No…” I answered, waiting for a teacher to walk past the aisle to the left of me before continuing, “No, our parents just know each other.”
Jo’s smile dropped as I said this, but then curled back into a grin, “Aw, that’s sad. He’s been talking about you like you’re his best friend or something.”
My first thought that almost slipped past my lips: what a nutcase, what’s his problem? Instead, I tried to replace those words with something slightly kinder.
“I’ve… I’ve only known him for a few hours… And it was a couple weeks ago when our parents had dinner together at my house.”
Jo laughed, throwing her head back. When some strands of hair came loose from her bun, Ty immediately weaved them back in. I began to wonder if they were in a demanding relationship or were just weird as hell.
“Aww!” Jo smiled, obviously enjoying herself despite the principal mumbling the dress code in the background, “And here I thought he actually made a friend.” She laughed again. I was interested in the word “actually” in that sentence.
Isshi looked forward, blinking several times before yanking out his earphones.
“That teacher over there was staring at me. I’m a little paranoid now.”
“She wasn’t even looking at us, what are you talking about?” Jo replied.
The three spoke without me for a while as I attempted to actually listen to the principal. This proved to be incredibly difficult. His monotone voice will forever be echoing through my brain.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I managed to catch a few basic rules about gum chewing, gangs and parking. Other than that, I knew nothing, and unlike Isshi, I wasn’t already informed of all this. Once I had snapped awake, I skimmed through the entire packet, desperately trying to soak up missed knowledge.
“… You will now go to the cafeteria and pick up your locker information, or remain in this room to get your schedules. We will dismiss you by rows.”
While some stayed seated as told, the majority poured out of the bleachers in a kind of mob. The aisles were full of teens pushing and shoving their way down. There were several teachers yelling, “Dismiss by rows!”
Isshi tugged on my shirt sleeve, “Just step over the benches, it doesn’t matter.”
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” I asked in a feeble voice, barely audible over the roar of the students. I could only imagine my foot getting caught in the space between the seat and the bottom of the bleachers and my ankle snapping as I tried to step forward.
Suddenly more scared of losing my group than my ability to walk, I slowly climbed over the benches below, keeping tabs on the blue and pink heads. Within a few seconds, the three had made it to the bottom, causing me to panic and scramble over two seats at a time and tripping before my feet hit the gym’s floor.
“Come on, let’s get our schedules already,” Jo urged, starting toward some tables at the other end of the gymnasium, “I need to know if you two are going to be in any of my damn classes this year…”
I’m only assuming I was not one of those two. I felt somewhat neglected even if I didn’t even know these people in the slightest bit.
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Isshi said as the four of us followed Jo obediently, “Looks like they ordered it by last name…”
I looked up: signs above long tables read “A-H”, “I-M”, “N-S”, “T-Z”.
Hesitantly, I scooted into the line of I through M’s as they others separated out.