lease listen to my side too. I can’t let all the lies Yuriko wrote go uncontested. That wouldn’t be fair, would it? You don’t agree? But Yuriko’s journal is so filthy I can’t bear it. After all, I have a respectable job at the ward office. You have to let me try to explain.

I’m sure someone impersonating Yuriko wrote that journal of hers. I’ve already noted on a number of occasions that Yuriko didn’t have the cleverness to organize her thoughts or write any kind of extended composition. Her schoolwork was always sloppy. I have an essay she wrote when she was a fourth-grader. Let me show it to you.

Yesterday I went with my older sister to buy a red goldfish, but the goldfish store was closed on Sunday, so I couldn’t buy a red goldfish and that made me sad so I cried.

This is all she could manage as a fourth-grader. But just look at the handwriting. It looks like a grown-up’s, doesn’t it? I suppose you’re thinking that I wrote this and am now trying to pass it off as Yuriko’s. But that’s not the case. I found it the other day tucked in the back of my grandfather’s closet when I was cleaning out his apartment. I used to correct every single one of Yuriko’s wretched compositions, rewriting each word for her. I did everything I could to cover up the fact that my younger sister was dim-witted and morally corrupt. Now do you understand?

Well, then, shall I tell you more about Kazue in high school? I mean, since Yuriko wrote about her in her journal, I think I should. When Yuriko was admitted to the junior high division of the Q School system, even the girls in the high school went ballistic. Their excitement was only natural, I suppose, but it still posed considerable difficulty for me, as her older sister. I remember it very clearly.

Mitsuru was the first to ask about her. She came over to my desk during our lunch break carrying a large reference book. I had just finished eating the lunch I’d brought: stewed radishes with fried bean curd. It’s what I’d fixed for my grandfather the night before. How can I remember such minute details? Well, I remember because I accidentally knocked the container over and the stew spilled on my English notes. Mitsuru looked at me sympathetically as I madly blotted away at my notebook with a damp handkerchief.

“I hear your little sister has entered the junior high division.”

“So it would seem,” I said, without looking up. Mitsuru tilted her head to the side, startled by the iciness of my answer. Her eyes grew wide and lit on me with bright alacrity. Mitsuru really was just like a squirrel! I was very fond of her, but at the same time I thought her rodent ways were often just too ridiculous.

“So it would seem? What kind of answer is that? Aren’t you the least bit concerned about her? She is your sister.” Mitsuru smiled warmly at me, flashing her big front teeth.

I stopped dabbing at my notebook and said, “No, actually I’m not the least bit concerned.”

Mitsuru’s eyes grew wide again. “Why? I hear she’s very pretty.”

“Who told you that?” I shot back. “And who cares anyway?”

“I heard it from Professor Kijima. Apparently your sister’s in his group.”

Mitsuru waved the book she was holding in front of my nose. It was a biology reference book written by a Takakuni Kijima. In addition to being in charge of the junior high division, Professor Takakuni Kijima was our biology teacher. He was a nervous type who wrote on the chalk-board with letters that were so perfectly square you’d have thought he’d measured them with a ruler. I couldn’t stand the way he always looked: so proper, everything so perfect. I hated him.

“And I really respect him,” Mitsuru said, without even waiting to hear what I had to say. “He’s brilliant and he really looks out for his students. I think he’s a great teacher. He was the one who took us on our overnight field trip when I was in junior high.”

“What did he say about my sister?”

“He asked me if the older sister of a junior high transfer student was in my class. When I said I didn’t know anything about it, he said that wasn’t likely. So when I asked him for more details I finally figured out he had to be talking about you. It was such a surprise.”

“Why? Is it hard to believe?”

“Because I didn’t even know you had a younger sister.”

Mitsuru was too smart to say that she found it hard to believe that I had a sister who looked so little like me, a sister who was so incredibly beautiful she looked like a monster. Just then we heard a commotion down the hall. A great crowd of students came pressing into the corridor, clamoring to look into the classroom where we sat. They were clearly from the junior high division. There were even a few boys among them, hanging back in the rear and looking a little sheepish.

“I wonder what’s going on?”

But when I turned toward the door, a hush fell over the crowd of students. A large girl with curly hair dyed a reddish brown pushed her way through the crowd and stepped into the room. She was clearly the ring-leader. From the haughty self-assured way she carried herself it was also clear that she was an insider, and the insiders in my class called out to her familiarly. “Mokku, what’re you doing here?” This girl, Mokku, strode confidently into the classroom without answering and planted herself in front of my desk.

“Are you Yuriko’s older sister?”

“Yes, I am.”

I didn’t want any dust to get into my lunch box, so I snapped the lid down. Mitsuru clutched the biology reference book to her breast, looking uneasy. Mokku gazed down at the stain that had seeped over my English notebook.

“What did you have for lunch today?”

“Stewed radish with bean curds,” the student next to me answered. She was affiliated with the modern dance club and was a complete witch. Every day she looked over my shoulder at what I was eating and snickered, screwing her face into a smirk. Mokku paid her no attention, completely disinterested. Instead she fixed her sights on my hair.

“Are you and Yuriko really sisters?”

“Yes, we really are.”

“I’m sorry but I just don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not.”

I had no interest in talking to someone so presumptuous. I stood up and stared Mokku straight in the eye. She flinched and took a few steps back. I could hear the sound her big behind made as it bumped into the desk of the student in front of me. Everyone in the room was staring at us. Mitsuru, who was so short she barely managed to come up to Mokku’s shoulder, grabbed Mokku by the arm and admonished her in a fairly sharp tone. “Stop poking your nose in other people’s business and go back to your own classroom!”

Mokku turned back toward the corridor, still in Mitsuru’s grip. Then, with an exaggerated flourish, she shrugged her shoulders and stomped out of the room. I could hear the students behind her sigh loudly with collective disappointment.

It was a good feeling. Ever since I was young I have loved bringing Yuriko down more than anything else. When people see a beautiful woman, they expect her to be perfect; they want her to remain beyond their reach. They feel she’s safer that way, more adorable. So when they find out she’s crude and unrefined, their admiration turns to scorn and their envy turns to hatred. Maybe the only reason I was born was to quash Yuriko’s value.

“Wow, I can’t believe he showed up too.” At the sound of Mitsuru’s voice I returned to my senses.

“Who?”

“Takashi Kijima. He’s Professor Kijima’s son and he’s in his group.”

One boy still lingered behind in the corridor after all the rest had left. He stood at the door to the classroom peering in at me. He looked exactly like his father: same compact little face, same slender build. His features were so nicely balanced you couldn’t help but call him pretty. And there wasn’t a hint of strength to him. Kijima’s son’s sharp eyes locked onto mine. I stared at him until he looked away.

“I’ve heard he’s a problem kid,” Mitsuri said.

She still clutched the biology book to her breast, brushing her fingers softly over the binding where Takakuni Kijima’s name was written. I could tell from her gestures that she was in love. I wanted to say something mean to her, something to shock her back to reality.

“Well, what do you expect for a deviant?”

“How do you know he’s deviant?” Mitsuru asked, startled.

“I’ve got eyes, don’t I?”

Kijima’s son and I had something in common. Kijima’s son was the blight on his father’s honor, and I was the blight to Yuriko’s beauty. We were both giant zeros. I suppose Kijima’s son had come to get a look at me because he harbored a distrust of Yuriko’s monstrous beauty. Once he saw me, he was able to despise her. But Kijima’s son was male after all, so I suppose he couldn’t help feeling sympathy for a woman like Yuriko, who was just as stupid as she was beautiful. I was sick of being put in these difficult situations. I had to continue at this school, and Yuriko’s presence was going to make my life unpleasant. I didn’t want to end my time here as a giant zero, like Kijima’s son. So from that day on I was determined to find a way to get rid of Yuriko.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I heard someone say in an overly friendly way. I turned to see Kazue Sat placing her hands on Mitsuru’s shoulders in a chummy show of friendship. Kazue was always trying to make friends with Mitsuru and was constantly starting up conversations with her. Today she was wearing a ridiculously short miniskirt that only accentuated how skinny her legs were. Kazue was knobby and angular and so thin you could feel her bones if you touched her. Her hair was thick and lackluster. And of course there was that silly red logo. I could just picture her sitting in that pathetically gloomy room of hers with needle and thread, madly embroidering Ralph Lauren logos on her socks.

“We were talking about her younger sister,” Mitsuru said, coolly brushing Kazue’s hands off her shoulders. Kazue blanched for a second, feelings hurt, and then recovered with a look of feigned indifference.

“What about her sister?”

“She’s enrolled in the junior high division. She’s in Professor Kijima’s group.”

A look of uneasiness gradually crept over Kazue’s face. I recalled her own younger sister—who was the spitting image of Kazue—and said nothing.

“That’s great. She must be really smart!”

“Not particularly. She got in under the kikokushijo category. You know, for the children of Japanese who’ve been brought up abroad.”

“So it pays to spend time abroad? It’s true that you can get into a school like this without having to really study—just on the basis of living overseas?” Kazue let out a sigh. “I wish my father’d been transferred overseas.”

“But that’s not all, Kazue. Her sister’s absolutely gorgeous on top of everything else.”

I was sure Mitsuru hated Kazue. She kept tapping her front teeth with her fingernail while she talked to her. And the way she did it was different from when she talked to me. It was more random.

“Gorgeous? How do you mean?” Kazue scowled at me. What she meant to say was, How can you possibly have a gorgeous younger sister? You’re not even remotely attractive.

“What I mean is, everyone’s saying she’s a knockout. Just a few minutes ago, all the junior high kids came running over here to get a look at the big sister.”

Kazue looked down at her hands with hollow eyes as if she’d just realized that she held nothing—nothing to put up in comparison.

“My sister’s set her sights on this school too.”

“Tell her not to bother,” I said crossly. Kazue flushed red and looked as if she were going to say something in response but bit her lip instead. “What I mean is, the insider students are so nasty they won’t let you enter the clubs you want, will they?”

Kazue made a show of clearing her throat in an effort to avoid my obvious sarcasm. She’d joined the ice-skating team. But I’d heard others gossip that she was having a hard time coming up with the rink fees. The team had to dole out a lot of money to pay the Olympic-class coach they’d hired and cover the cost of renting the rink for lessons. Because of that, they’d accept any girl who wanted to join. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t skate a lick; as long as she could help with the costs, they didn’t care. The students at this school were absolutely indifferent to the hardships their own pleasures imposed on those around them.

“Well, just so you know, I’ve joined the ice skating team. They were second on my list after the cheerleading squad, so I’m very happy with the way things turned out.”

“Have they let you skate yet?”

Kazue ran her tongue over her lips a couple of times, apparently searching for the right words.

“It’s the rich insiders who monopolize the rink, isn’t it?” I said. “Or else the really pretty girls who look cute in their little outfits. That Olympic coach probably gives them private lessons anyway, so they get all the attention. Nothing like favoritism. The only other way to get noticed around here is to actually have talent. What a crock. The very idea of those high school students out there pretending to be ice skaters is a farce. It’s just an amusement for the little princesses anyway.”

At that, Kazue’s eyes lit up and she smiled so broadly I thought she might rip her face open. Oh, yes. Kazue was nothing if not ambitious. And all she wanted—with a desire greater than anyone else’s—was to be recognized as “a little princess” who was as talented in the classroom as she was on the ice. This had been Kazue’s father’s most fervent wish.

“I bet all they let you do is clean the rink and take care of their shoes. They may call it physical training, but it’s more like hazing. And how many times did you have to run around the playing field the other day when it was over ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit? You looked like you were going to die! Is that the kind of amusement that’s fit for a princess?”

“It’s not hazing or anything of the sort!” Kazue finally regained the power to speak. “You have to train like that to build up basic strength.”

“And once you build up your basic strength, then what? Are you going to try out for the Olympics?”

I had to say it. And I wasn’t just being cruel. This dim-witted girl believed all you had to do was try your best and you could do anything. I wanted to set her straight. She knew nothing about the real world, and I wanted to explain the way things really worked. But more than that, I wanted to get my revenge on her father for having poisoned her with those stupid ideas in the first place.

When I looked up I noticed that Mitsuru was working her way over to the window where a group of girls were having a conversation. They admitted her into their

little circle and soon they were all laughing. Mitsuru and I exchanged glances. She shrugged lightly without saying anything. What’s the point? Her gesture seemed to say.

“I wasn’t planning on trying out for the Olympics. But I’m still only sixteen, you know. If I wanted to, and trained like there was no tomorrow, there’s no reason why I couldn’t go to the Olympics.”

I could hardly believe my ears.

“Boy, you really are an idiot. So do you think if you took up tennis and trained like crazy you could go to Wimbledon? Or if you decided to be beautiful and worked at it like nothing else you’d win the Miss Universe Pageant? Or maybe you think if you study like there’s no tomorrow you’ll be top in the class by the end of the year? You think you can beat Mitsuru? She’s been at the top of the class since she was a first-year student in junior high and has never once had to give up her spot. You know why? Because she’s a genius. You think all you have to do is try your best? You can try until you’ve worn yourself away to nothing, but there’s a limit, you know. You can spend your whole life trying—hell, you can try until there’s nothing left of you but a little stump—and you’ll still never be a genius.”

Lunch break was almost over but I was just getting started. I guess I was still irritated about being turned into a freak show by those junior high kids. Kazue’s the one who ought to have been on display, not me. She’d insinuated herself into a place where she didn’t belong and then was doing all kinds of asinine things without a care in the world. But Kazue had nerve, I’ll give her that.

She turned to me and said condescendingly, “I have sat here and listened patiently to you, and I think you’ve got the attitude of a loser. You talk like someone who has never even tried to succeed at anything. I for one am going to keep on trying my best. Sure, it’s probably foolish to think about entering the Olympics or Wimbledon, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to try to be first in the class by the end of the year. You may think Mitsuru’s a genius, but I don’t. She just tries really hard.”

I recalled the way Kazue’s family determined the pecking order in their household based on scholastic scores and laughed sarcastically. “Have you ever seen a monster?”

Kazue raised one eyebrow and looked at me with suspicion. “A monster?”

“Yeah, a person who’s not human.”

“Are you talking about geniuses?”

I paused for a minute. Genius doesn’t quite cover it. A monster is a person with something twisted inside, something that grows and grows until it looms all out of proportion. I pointed silently toward Mitsuru. A few minutes ago she’d been laughing with her friends but now she had returned to her desk in order to get ready for the next class. She was wrapped in a strange aura of solitude. There was something about Mitsuru once she knew class was ready to get under way.

“I’m going to make it to the top of the class because I’m going to do my best,” Kazue announced.

“Suit yourself.”

“You say such hateful things!” Kazue was having a hard time selecting the appropriate words to challenge me. “My father said you were weird and didn’t act like a girl. You’re probably some kind of deviant. Maybe you do have a beautiful younger sister. Maybe you are smart. But I have a normal family with a father who has a good job—who works hard.”

Kazue went back to her own desk. She could talk about her father’s opinion of me all day long; what did I care? As I watched her walk away, I decided that from now on I would make it my business to keep an eye on her efforts to “do her best.”

Quiet settled over the classroom. When I checked my watch I discovered it was already time for the next lesson. I scrambled to pick up the lunch box that I’d left on my desk and stuffed it away in my satchel. The door opened and in came Kijima in his white lab coat, a serious look on his face.

I’d completely forgotten that today was the day for our weekly biology class. First Yuriko, then the detestable Kijima Junior, and now Professor Kijima himself. What were the odds of running across all three in one day? I hurriedly searched for my biology book and put it on top of my desk. I was in such a rush that I knocked my pad off the desk and it fell to the floor with a thud. I saw Kijima briefly contract his brows in a frown.

Kijima put his hands on both sides of the lectern and looked slowly around the room. I knew he was searching for me; he had to be. I lowered my head. But before long I could feel his eyes hovering above my desk. Yes, that’s right. Here I am, beautiful Yuriko’s ugly older sister, the blight on Yuriko’s life. But you’ve got a blight on your own life too, don’t you? Your son. I raised my eyes and stared at him directly.

Like his son, Kijima’s brow was wide, the bridge of his nose thin, and his eyes piercing. The gold-rimmed glasses he wore complemented his face and gave him a studious look. And yet there was something about his person that always looked disheveled. The trace of stubble the razor missed, perhaps? The strands of hair that strayed across his brow? The stains on his white lab coat? Those small marks of dishevelment symbolized something: he had a son who didn’t live up to his expectations. Although father and son resembled each other in every other way, their eyes were different. Kijima looked at things head-on, his son in sideways glances. The father’s direct gaze would never freeze on its subject but would trace its contours, taking in the details one by one, so it was always easy to tell what he was observing. Now he observed me, my face, my figure, without saying a word. Did you discover any biological evidence to link Yuriko to me? Don’t look at me as if I’m some bizarre species of insect! I grew furious as I sat there soaking up Kijima’s study. Finally he took his eyes off of me and began to speak in slow, measured tones.

“We’ve already covered the end of the dinosaur age, haven’t we? We discussed the way the dinosaurs devoured all the conifers and other gymnosperms. Do you remember? Over time the dinosaurs’ necks grew longer and longer so they could reach the highest plants. We talked about the way plants develop in accord with their environment, right? Interesting, don’t you think? Gymnosperms got their name—naked-seed plants—because their seeds are not formed in an enclosed ovary. The angiosperms, in comparison, produce seeds in specialized reproductive organs called flowers, where the ovary or carpel is enclosed, so they are known as flowering plants. Now, because the gymnosperms depended entirely on wind dispersal for their reproduction, they were eventually eaten to the point of extinction. But in comparison, the angiosperms survived because they were in partnership with all the various insects. Are there any questions so far?”

Mitsuru kept her eyes riveted on Kijima without even shifting in her seat. I was very much aware of the electricity that ignited the air between those two. I had already suspected that Mitsuru was in love with Kijima. But even so I could hardly believe my eyes at the way the passion hovered in the air between them like a massive lump.

Earlier I told you that I cherished a kind of love for Mitsuru, didn’t I? Perhaps that’s not really accurate. Mitsuru and I were like a mountain lake formed by streams of subterranean water. The mountains are deep and lonely and the lake desolate. No travelers pass by. But in the earth beneath the surface, the waters are always flowing and always moving in unison. If I went beneath the surface, Mitsuru did as well. If I surged, so did she. For Mitsuru, Kijima must have represented an entirely different world, but for me he represented only an obstacle.

Yet there could be no doubt that Kijima was attracted to Yuriko. And the only reason he was taking notice of me now was because he was interested in her. Do you think I’m wrong? To be sure, I have never been in love. But if someone does love someone else, don’t you think it’s typical for that person to want to know all about the encumbrances his lover must contend with? And let’s not forget that Kijima was a biology teacher. Don’t you suppose he was also interested in Yuriko and me from a strictly scientific perspective as well? Kijima turned to the blackboard and wrote, Flowers and mammalia—a new partnership is born.

“Open your textbooks to page seventy-eight.

The mouse eats the angiosperms, or flowering plants, and scatters the seeds in its droppings.”

As if in chorus, the sound of pencils scribbling madly over notebooks arose from the classroom. I didn’t write anything in my notebook and continued with my daydreaming. Yuriko must be a flowering plant. I am a naked-seed plant. The flowering plant attracts insects and animals with its beautiful blossoms and sweet nectar. I suppose Kijima must be an animal, then. If he’s an animal, what kind of animal would he be? Kijima turned around and stared at me.

“Well, then, let’s review. You there, do you remember why the dinosaurs became extinct?”

Kijima was pointing at me. Lost in my thoughts and completely caught off guard, I slumped down in my seat with a sour look.

“Stand up!” Kijima ordered reprovingly.

My desk creaked and my chair scraped across the floor as I pushed it back and stood up awkwardly. Mitsuru turned around and stared at me.

“Wasn’t it because of giant meteorites?”

“That’s part of it. What about the relation to plants?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Oh? Then what about you?”

Mitsuru stood up without a sound and launched effortlessly into a response.

“When they exhausted the food supply in their present location they would migrate to a new site until the plants there were gone as well. Gradually the forests that the dinosaurs depended on for sustenance were all depleted. From this example we can denote that the relationship between plant and animal is one to one. It is important to establish a cooperative partnership for survival.”

“Exactly.” Kijima nodded and then turned to the blackboard and wrote out word for word what Mitsuru had just said. Kazue looked over at me with a gloating sneer and thrust her shoulders back. What a bitch. From that moment on I harbored an intense hatred for Kazue, Mitsuru, and Kijima.

After biology we had gym class. Rhythmic exercises. We had to change into our gym clothes and gather outside, but I took my time. I still hadn’t recovered from my earlier humiliation. I was certain that Kijima had intentionally tried to embarrass me in front of the entire class, just because I was Yuriko’s older sister. No, because I was the beautiful Yuriko’s older sister. It was as if people could not forgive me for being related to her. The only exception was Kazue.

Rhythmic exercises, as you now know, is a required course for girls in the Q School system. They say that when you move your arms and legs in different directions at the same time you exercise your brain; it’s supposed to be the kind of exercise that prolongs your life. But I never practiced the steps at home, so I was never any good at it. Of course, if you were the first one to make a mistake, you attracted attention. So I tried to hang in there until others started to mess up and get disqualified. I was doing just that when Yuriko came by with Kijima Junior. I noticed them staring at the class.

I hadn’t seen Yuriko for some time, and in the interim she had grown even more beautiful. Her breasts were now so full it looked as if they would come bursting through the white blouse of her school uniform at any minute, and her hips, high and round, pressed tightly against her tiny tartan skirt. Her legs were long and straight and perfectly shaped. And then there was her face: her white skin, her brown eyes, and her expression, so soft and beautiful; she looked as though she were constantly getting ready to ask a question. Even an immaculately crafted doll could not have been as lovely.

I was so surprised by the way Yuriko had matured that I lost my concentration and missed one of the steps. Those who made a mistake had to leave the ring of dancers. My exit from the ring was earlier today than I had hoped, and it was all because of Yuriko. I hated her for sneaking up on me. I hated her more than I could stand. Get the hell out of here! I screamed at her in my heart. Then I heard my classmates’ derisive laughter.

“Look at Kazue Sat—dancing like a friggin’ octopus!”

Kazue was doing her best to keep up with the music. She didn’t want to lose to Mitsuru. Besides, she had to prove me wrong; hard work does pay off. Her face was creased with concentration while Mitsuru’s was calm and cool, her arms and legs moving lithely left and right. She was so graceful she made it look more like a ballet than a gym exercise. And then Kazue caught sight of Yuriko and stopped dead in her tracks with a look of astonishment. At last she’d seen a monster. When I saw the shock on Kazue’s face I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Sorry about earlier,” Kazue said. She had come chasing after me as soon as class was over. “Shall we let bygones be bygones and just try to get along?”

I didn’t answer. Kazue’s sudden change in attitude made me wary.

“Your younger sister…” The sweat was pouring off Kazue’s forehead in rivulets, and she didn’t even try to wipe it off. “What’s her name?”

“Yuriko.”

I couldn’t tell if Kazue was jealous or impressed or bitter. Her voice was thick with some kind of strange excitement.

“Wow, even her name is pretty, isn’t it. I can hardly believe she’s even the same species as us!”

Kazue’s words were so inflamed with feeling that she continued to repeat the same lines over and over as the pungent smell of sweat wafted from her body. It really was a pungent smell—signalling the intensity of Kazue’s feeling for Yuriko, I suppose. Without thinking I lowered my face. It was clear that Kazue’s world was changing, now that she’d caught a glimpse of the monster.

Yuriko had just left the school grounds with Kijima Junior. To see the deviant little Kijima tagging along after Yuriko led me to suspect he was up to no good. I wanted to pay the little twerp back for the humiliation I had suffered in the earlier class. I decided then and there that I wanted to drive the Kijima father-and-son team out of school along with Yuriko as soon as I could.

A few days after this, as I was leaving school, I heard Kazue come bounding after me. She pressed a small envelope into my hand. I opened it up while I was on the train. The letter was written on two sheets of girlish notepaper printed with violets. Kazue’s handwriting was pretty but lacked distinguishing characteristics.

Please forgive the informality of this letter.

Both you and I are outsiders at Q High School for Young Women. You have come to my house, you have met my parents, and so you are perhaps the person with whom I am most likely to become friends. My father told me I shouldn’t interact with you because your background is so unlike my own. But if we communicate in letters, I’m sure he won’t know. Shall we send each other letters from time to time like this? We can confide in each other and talk about our studies.

I think I have probably misunderstood you. Even though you are an outsider like me, you always seem so composed that I feel you’ve been a student at this school for a long time. And then you’re always talking to Mitsuru, so it’s hard for me to get close to you, and when I do you keep your distance.

I don’t know what the other students at Q High School for Young Women are thinking (particularly the insiders!), and I feel very out of place. But I am not ashamed of myself. I had my sights set on entering Q High School ever since first grade, and I got in on account of my hard work—and my hard work alone. So I have confidence in myself. Why shouldn’t I? I believe I am going to achieve my goals. Things are going to turn out well for me, and I will lead a happy and successful life.

But there are times when I’m not certain what to do, and I don’t know whom I can talk to. And so without really thinking, I’ve written to you. There’s something troubling me. May I please discuss it with you?

Yours,

Kazue Sat

Phrases like Please forgive the informality of this letter must have been something she copied from a letter-writing primer for adults. The very image of her sitting there copying from a manual made me laugh. I certainly had no interest in discussing her problems with her. But I was curious to know just what this troubling matter was, and I did want to know what was going on in her head. I suppose there’s nothing more interesting than other people’s problems.

That night, while I was absentmindedly turning thoughts like that over in my mind, I worked on my English homework. My grandfather, who was preparing the evening meal, stuck his head out of the kitchen and asked, “Did you say the Blue River bar is owned by the family of a kid in your class?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Mitsuru and her mother works there.”

“Well, that’s surprising. I thought we were the only ones from a place like this with a kid at the Q High School for Young Women. But then the other day I met a fella who works security at the Blue River in front of the station. He’s a graduate of the same school as the super here. They’re good friends, it seems, and the super’s always going over to his place. He called me to go by and look at some plants that were giving them trouble, and that’s how I learned the daughter of the mama-san there goes to Q High too, and it sounded like she was in your class. So I’ve been thinking I might go by for a drink, given our connections. Coincidences like that make life worth living.”

“Yes, why don’t you? Mitsuru’s mother told me to tell you to stop by sometime.”

“Did she? I was afraid I’d just be a nuisance, being such an old fogy and all.”

“I don’t think that matters. As long as you’re a customer, that’s all that counts, right? I already told her about you—that you like bonsai—so I’m sure she’ll be happy for you to come by.”

I was mostly just humoring my grandfather. But it seemed he took my words to heart. The next thing I knew I heard him in the kitchen, happily rinsing the rice and chopping vegetables.

“I bet Blue River’s pretty expensive. All the hostesses are young. I wonder if they’ll give me a bit of a discount.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. I was more interested in Kazue’s letter. I pulled it out, placed it on top of my English textbook, and read it again. I decided to ask her about it tomorrow.

“I read your letter. So what’s this problem you wrote about?”

“Let’s talk where no one else can hear us, okay?”

Acting like she was getting ready to reveal classified information, Kazue led me to an empty classroom. “It’s kind of hard to talk about it with someone else,” she said.

“But you want to talk about it, don’t you?”

“Okay, here goes. I’m ready.”

Kazue placed her hands on her cheeks shyly. She opened her mouth to speak any number of times but stopped each time to search for the words she wanted.

“Okay. It’s like this. See, I like Professor Kijima’s son, Takashi Kijima, so I want to know what’s going on between him and Yuriko. I mean, when I saw Kijima with Yuriko it made me so upset I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“He really does have an attractive face, doesn’t he?” As I said this I thought of Kijima’s reptilian body and his darting eyes.

“I really like that kind of face,” Kazue said. “He’s so delicate and pretty for a boy, and tall, and cool, and—I’m just crazy about him! The first time I saw him was just before summer vacation. I ran into him at the bookstore in front of school and thought right then that he was really cute. I was completely shocked when I learned he was Professor Kijima’s son. I’ve done a little background checking on the family, so I know that they live in Den’enchf, an upscale neighborhood. Professor Kijima’s a graduate of the Q School system, and Kijima’s younger brother is in the elementary division. I also learned that Professor Kijima always takes the family on a summer vacation and lets the children help him collect his insect specimens.”

I gasped. So that’s why Kazue lost the rhythmic exercise competition to Mitsuru! But that wasn’t all. I knew Kazue was a gymnosperm but here she was trying to find insects and animals to partner with. Could there be another woman alive who was less self-aware? And Kijima of all people, with his shifty eyes! Such delicious irony. It was all I could do not to laugh in Kazue’s face.

“Is that right? Well, I sure hope everything works out for you!”

“Do you think you could ask Yuriko about Kijima for me? I mean, she’s so pretty and all, I’m sure Kijima likes her. And the thought of it makes me so crazy I can’t even sleep. But I think there may be hope for me yet. The other day he smiled at me!”

Oh, I doubt that was a smile. We’re talking about Kijima, after all. It was more likely a smirk brought on by Kazue’s stupidity. But this information was a godsend. I’d been dreaming of a way to get rid of the Kijima father-and-son duo, and Yuriko too. I started scheming.

“I’ll see what I can learn from Yuriko. I’ll find out what her relation is with Kijima, and then I’ll find out what kind of girl Kijima likes, okay?”

Kazue held her breath and nodded.

I looked at her anxious expression and added, “Is it okay if I let her know that you like Kijima?”

Kazue looked terrified and shook both her hands back and forth. “No, no, no! Please don’t let her know. I don’t want anyone to know yet. Maybe I’ll tell her later.”

“Got it.”

“But there is one more thing I’d like you to find out, if you can do it without being too obvious.” Kazue said, she pulled up her navy-blue knee socks, which had started to bunch around her ankles. “Find out if he’d be interested in a girl who’s a year older than him.”

“What difference does it make if the girl’s a year older or not? We’re talking about Professor Kijima’s son. I’m sure he’s more interested in a girl’s intelligence than her age.”

She squealed slightly and opened her tiny eyes as wide as I’d ever seen them.

“You’re right. And Professor Kijima’s handsome too. I love his biology classes!”

“All right. I’ll call Yuriko tonight and see what she says.”

I lied. I didn’t even know the Johnsons’ telephone number. But Kazue lowered her head with a worried look.

“Please be careful. Your sister’s not the type to gossip, is she?”

“Oh we’re both very tight-lipped. Don’t even think about it.”

“Really? That’s a relief.” Kazue glanced at her watch. “Well, I’d better go show my face at the team meeting.”

“Have they let you skate yet?”

Kazue nodded uncertainly and picked up the navy-blue gym bag that all the team members carried.

“They told me when I made myself an outfit they’d let me skate. So I made one.”

“Can I see?”

Reluctantly she pulled her skating suit out of her bag. It was navy and gold, the Q School colors. The cut and design was exactly like one of the cheerleaders’ costumes.

“I put the spangles on myself,” she said, holding the costume up to her chest.

“It looks like a cheerleader’s uniform,” I said.

“It does?” Kazue looked perturbed for a second. “You think I made it look like a cheerleader’s uniform because I wasn’t allowed to join the squad, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t think so, but others might.”

Kazue’s face clouded over when she heard my frank response, but then she mumbled—almost as if talking to herself—“Too late now, I’ve already made it. I made it like this because I like the Q School colors, that’s all.”

Kazue was very adept at deluding herself, I’ll give her that much. In no time at all she could warp reality into meeting her own needs. I really, really hated that tendency of hers.

“What kind of girls do you think Kijima likes? I mean, girls from which clubs? What am I going to do if he hates girls on the ice-skating team? Or what if he’s one of those frivolous types who only likes the girls on the cheerleading squad? Then what’ll I do?”

“Don’t worry. The ice skaters are just as vivacious as the cheerleaders. He’s bound to like girls on that team. At least it’s better than the basketball team! And I’ll bet he likes girls who are good in school.”

“Really? Do you think so too? Ever since I fell in love with Kijima, I’ve enjoyed my studies even more.”

Kazue spoke happily, spreading her uniform across the desk. Then she balled it and stuffed it back in her gym bag. Kazue was too impossibly clumsy to do anything neatly.

“Oops, I’ve got to run. If I’m late I’ll have to polish the senior girls’ blades. See you later!”

Kazue snatched up the bag that contained her uniform and skates and bounded noisly out of the room. After she left I sat in the classroom for some time alone. It was autumn and nightfall was early. In no time at all it had grown dark. My rear end began to hurt. I noticed a line of graffiti on the edge of the desk where I was sitting. Someone had written Love…love…I love Junji! with a felt-tip pen. Love…love…I love Takashi! Love…love…I love Kijima…. Without really thinking about it, I was led by association to imagine other lines to write, recalling the passion that had hovered in the air between Mitsuru and Kijima. I let out a long sigh.

I’ve never once in my entire life been in love with a man. Yes, I’m a human being who has gone through life just fine without ever experiencing that hovering lump of passion. And I have no regrets. Kazue was not so different from myself. Why was she not able to appreciate this?

It was past nine o’clock. I’d just gotten out of the bath and was heading to the sitting room to watch TV when the front door opened and my grandfather stepped into the apartment. He’d been out drinking. His face was bright red, and he was out of breath.

“Well, you sure are late. I went ahead and ate.”

I pointed to the dishes with my grandfather’s portion of the meal that I’d left on the little tea table: mackerel stewed in miso, boiled greens, and pickles. My grandfather had fixed it before he went out. My grandfather let out a long breath without saying anything. He was wearing a suit I’d never seen before, garish, with thick black stripes over a bright green background. His short-sleeved shirt was a pale yellow, and he wore a black string Texas tie with a strange-looking cloisonné fastener. Grandfather had small hands for a man, and as he loosened his tie strings he started to chuckle to himself, as if he’d just remembered something. No doubt he’d paid a visit to the Blue River.

“Grandpa, did you go to Mitsuru’s mom’s bar?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Was Mitsuru’s mom there?”

“Uh-huh.”

My grandfather’s reticence was odd, given his usual loquacity.

“So how was it?”

“What a wonderful person!” Grandfather mumbled in response, more to himself than to me. He turned to look at the bonsai he’d left outside and then stepped onto the veranda, obviously not interested in further conversation with me. He never left the bonsai out in the evening dew, so I found his behavior particularly disconcerting.

That night I had a bizarre dream. My grandfather and I were floating endlessly on an ancient sea. Everyone was there: my dead mother; my father, who is now living with a Turkish woman. Some of us sat on the black rocks scattered across the ocean floor while others lounged about on the gritty sand. I was wearing a green pleated skirt that I had loved as a child. I remember rubbing my hand along the pleats and thinking how wistful it made me feel. My grandfather was dressed in the same stylish outfit he’d worn to the Blue River. The ends of his string tie floated in the water. My parents were wearing what they always wore at home. They looked like they did long ago. They looked like they did when I was a child.

The sea began to fill with plankton, which looked very much like swirling flakes of snow. When I turned to gaze up at the surface of the water, I could tell that the sky above it was clear and bright, and yet for some reason my family and I were happily living our lives on the dark floor of the ocean. Such a weird and yet tranquil dream. And how telling that Yuriko was nowhere to be found. Without her I felt relaxed and peaceful, and yet I could also sense a tension as I waited, wondering when she might make her appearance.

Kazue came swimming along in her cheerleader’s uniform, her hair jet black and her eyes set with determination. She was wearing flesh-colored tights, so I realized it was her ice-skating costume, not a cheerleader’s uniform. Kazue moved with intense concentration to the tempo of the rhythmic exercise music, but because she was underwater her movements were slow and languid. I began to laugh. I wondered if Mitsuru was around too and looked around for her. Mitsuru was holed up in a wreck on the ocean’s floor, studying. Johnson and Masami were sitting on the deck of the wreck. I thought I’d head in that direction when all of a sudden everything around me grew dark. A giant figure had cast a shadow over the surface of the water, blocking out the rays of the sun. I looked up in surprise.

Yuriko had finally put in an appearance. I was the size of a child, but Yuriko, with the face and body of an adult, was dressed in the flowing white robes of a sea goddess. Her ample breasts were visible through her clothing. Yuriko swam toward us with her long arms and long legs, a radiant smile on her beautiful face. I was terrified by her eyes as she looked around underwater. They emitted no light. I hid in the shadow of a rock, but Yuriko stretched out her exquisitely formed arms and started to pull me to her.

When I woke up it was just five minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I lay in bed, thinking about my dream. Ever since Yuriko showed up, Mitsuru, Kazue, and my grandfather all changed abruptly. Love…love…everyone was tangled up with love: Mitsuru for Professor Kijima, Kazue for Kijima’s son, and my grandfather for Mitsuru’s mother. Of course, when it comes to love I have no idea what kind of chemical reaction takes over the heart, never having experienced it myself. All I knew was that I had to do something to ensure that at least Mitsuru’s and my grandfather’s attentions returned to me. Would I be able to battle Yuriko? It didn’t matter. I had no choice.

During lunch break, Kazue sauntered over to my desk, beaming with confidence. She placed her lunch box on an empty chair and dragged the chair over to my desk with a rattling screech.

“Is it okay if I eat with you?”

She’d already sat down before she asked. Typical. I turned a frosty gaze on her. Dog! Fashion nightmare! Jerk! She looked even more repulsive today than usual, so repulsive I just wanted to shout abuse after abuse at her. She’d tried to curl her hair. Usually it hung limply down over her head like a helmet, but today it stuck out on both sides like a wide-brimmed hat. You could still see the lines where the curler pins had pressed down on her hair. And to make matters worse, today she’d somehow rigged her tiny drowsy-looking eyes so that she seemed to be double-lidded.

“What’d you do to your eyes?”

Kazue brought her hands up slowly to her eyelids.

“Oh. These are called Elizabeth Eyelids.”

She’d gotten hold of some beauty product that Japanese women glued to their eyelids to give them the extra fold they craved, because they thought it made their eyes look Western. She’d spied on one of the insider students attaching them to her eyes in the restroom. Just the very thought of Kazue holding that two-pronged toothpick-thin plastic wand up to her eye while she applied the device made my skin crawl. And then her skirt had shrunk so drastically that you could see halfway up her skinny thighs. She’d worked so hard at being attractive that she ended up looking more ridiculous than ever.

The other girls in the class poked one another in the ribs when they saw Kazue and made no effort to hide their laughter. It made me sick just to think that others thought we were friends. I hadn’t minded so much when she’d just been the ugly know-it-all, but this new transformation was thanks to Yuriko, which made it all the worse.

“Sat, I’ve a favor to ask you.” Two of our classmates who were also on the ice-skating team came up alongside Kazue. Both were insiders, but one was clearly subordinate to the other. They were very close. Both had fathers who served in ambassadorial positions in foreign countries. It seems that different ambassadorial assignments carried different levels of prestige, depending on the country. The two girls treated each other with the deference associated with their fathers’ positions.

“What is it?” Kazue asked, turning to look up at them cheerfully. When they saw her Elizabeth Eyelids they both broke into smiles that they struggled to conceal. Kazue, however, did not notice. Instead she twirled her fingers through her curls as if to say, Look at my new hairstyle. When the two shifted their gaze to her hair, they could no longer stifle their laughter. Kazue watched them blankly.

“The team has designated a midterm review committee, and we’ve been put in charge. I hate to ask, but would you let us copy your English and Classics notes? You’re the best student on the team.”

“Of course,” Kazue responded, beaming with pride.

“In that case, would you mind if we also had your social studies and geography notes? Everyone will be really grateful.”

“No problem.”

They hurried out of the room. I was certain they were in the hall laughing hysterically.

“You’re such an idiot!” I said. “There’s no such thing as a midterm review committee.”

I knew it was none of my business, but I just couldn’t help myself. Not that it mattered. Kazue was still luxuriating in hearing them call her “the best student in the club.”

“We all need to help one another out.”

“Oh, that’s just terrific. And how are they going to help you?”

“Well, I don’t know how to skate, so they can teach me what I need to know.”

“Wait a minute. You joined the skating team and you can’t skate?”

Kazue started to unwrap the handkerchief around her lunch box with a troubled look. She pulled out a squished rice ball and a piece of tomato. That was it. I had brought along the mackerel my grandfather had left uneaten and was enjoying my meal. But when I saw Kazue’s meager fare I was too startled to continue. Kazue started to eat the rice ball with apparent distaste. It was just a plain rice ball, lightly salted, with nothing stuffed inside.

“It’s not that I can’t skate at all. I’ve been skating with my father any number of times at Krakuen Park.”

“So what happened with your costume? Did they let you skate?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Kazue turned away.

“The cost of the costume and the rink charges are probably really high,” I persisted. “Didn’t your father complain?”

“Why should he?” Kazue pursed her lips angrily. “We’ve got the money.”

They most certainly did not have the money. I bitterly recalled the gloom of Kazue’s house and the way her father had dunned me for the international phone call I’d made.

“Let’s not talk about my team anymore. I’m interested in hearing about Yuriko. Did you ask her?”

“I called her right away. Listen, you have nothing to worry about. Yuriko said Kijima was just giving her a tour of the school. She also said it doesn’t seem that Kijima is going out with anyone else right now.”

“That’s great!” Kazue clapped her hands with joy. I found the thrill of lying even more entertaining than I had imagined.

“Oh, and one more thing. This is just Yuriko’s opinion, of course, and it may have no significance, but it seems that Kijima likes older actresses and such.”

“Who? Who?”

“Actresses like Reiko Hara.”

I was on a roll and couldn’t stop. At the time, Reiko hara was one of the most adored actresses, or so I’d heard. “Reiko hara!” Kazue wailed, and stared blankly ahead in frustration. How will I ever replace Reiko hara? she seemed to be thinking. For a minute I remembered all the pleasure I’d had at tricking Yuriko with my lies when we were little, and my heart fluttered excitedly. But Yuriko had never believed me completely. There was always a part of her that resisted. If a kid knows she’s not bright, she’s always somewhat suspicious. But not Kazue. She swallowed my lies hook, line, and sinker.

“Oh, no! What do you think? What can I do to compete with her?”

Kazue peered over at me expectantly. In the end her narcissism had won out. Kazue was quickly regaining her self-confidence.

“Well,” I declared convincingly, “you’re good in school, for starters, and you know Kijima likes smart girls. But then he did mention Mitsuru. Maybe he’s interested in her.”

“Mitsuru?” Kazue wheeled around to stare at her. Mitsuru was sitting at her desk reading a book. It was covered with a book wrapper so I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like an English-language novel. As Kazue scrutinized Mitsuru, I could sense the heat of the jealousy rising off her cheeks.

Mitsuru must have sensed Kazue’s stare because she turned around and looked at us. She didn’t reveal any interest in us. I thought it odd that Mitsuru hadn’t even mentioned my grandfather’s visit last night to her mother’s bar. Maybe her mother hadn’t told her he’d stopped by.

“Hey? Hey!” Kazue began to pester me. “Did she say anything about the kind of girl Kijima likes?”

“Well, I think we can assume he likes a pretty girl—he’s male, after all.”

“A pretty girl, right…”

Kazue took a few more nibbles of her rice ball and sighed. “I wish I looked like Yuriko! If I’d been born with a face like that…I can’t even imagine how much better my life would be. A whole new world would open for me. Really, to have a face like that—and brains—what more could you want?”

“That’s because she’s a monster.”

“I suppose. But if I could get where she is without having to study, I’d be glad to become a monster too.”

Kazue was absolutely serious. And, in the end she did become a full-fledged monster. Of course, at that moment I couldn’t have imagined how things would turn out. What? You think Kazue turned out the way she did in response to what I did back then? You’re saying I’m responsible for her eccentricity? I don’t believe that for a minute. No. What I believe is that there is something implicit in everyone, which forms that person’s character and is responsible for everything else. There was something inside Kazue herself that was accountable for the change in her appearance. I’m sure of that.

“You really eat like a bird. You must overeat at breakfast,” I said maliciously.

Kazue shook her head vigorously. “No way. I only drink a bottle of milk.”

“Really? The other day when I was visiting you ate everything on your plate. You even gulped down the dipping sauce.”

Offended, Kazue glared at me. “Well, I don’t do that anymore. I’m watching what I eat. After all, I want to be as beautiful as a model.”

Just then I thought of something very cruel. If she were to be any thinner than she already was, she would look so horrible there’s no way anyone could be attracted to her.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. If you lost just a little bit more weight you’d be perfect,” I said.

“I know. That’s what I think too.” Kazue lifted her skirt bashfully. “My legs are so fat. They’ve told me at practice that the thinner you are the lighter, which makes it easier to skate.”

“All you need to do is try just a little bit more. Kijima is thin too, you know.”

Kazue nodded with conviction when she heard what I said. Then she noted happily, “If I were a little thinner, I’d be pretty, and Kijima and I would look really good together.”

She wrapped her empty lunch box in a tomato-stained handkerchief. Mitsuru appeared, her book tucked under her arm. She tapped me on the shoulder, “Yuriko’s here. She said she has something to tell you.”

Yuriko? How many times had I told her never, ever to come looking for me? Surprised, I turned toward the hallway. She was standing in the doorway with Kijima Junior, looking in at me. Kazue still hadn’t noticed them, so I gave her a quick shove.

“It’s Kijima.”

Kazue’s cheeks turned beet red and she became completely flustered. What’ll I do? What’ll I do? I’m not ready for him to see me yet! What’ll I do? This was written all over her face.

I stood up. “Don’t worry. They’ve come to talk to me.”

“But you told Yuriko that I like Kijima, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t tell her.”

I left her to her panic and headed toward my two visitors. Yuriko stared at me as I approached her. She stood straight as a ramrod and was now more than four inches taller than I was. The arms that hung from her short-sleeved blouse were long and slender and beautifully shaped. Even her fingers were gorgeous.

“What do you want?”

I noticed Kijima Junior flinch in surprise at the rudeness of my tone.

“Professor Kijima’s my supervising instructor; I think you already know that. Anyway, he’s asked me to fill out an information sheet about my family, and I don’t know what I should write. I think it’ll be weird if you and I don’t have the same answers.”

“Why don’t you fill it in with information about Johnson and Masami?”

“But Johnson’s not really family. Unless he’s more than family?”

Kijima Junior smiled slyly and stared at Yuriko’s face. At that moment I saw Yuriko blush. A light glimmered in her eyes. Anger gives birth to determination—and in Yuriko’s eyes I saw the glimmer of determination. Yuriko had no business possessing determination. I would have to trample out whatever it was that had given birth to it.

“I filled the blanks in with information about you and Father. But if Professor Kijima asks me about it, I’ll just tell him to come talk to you.”

“Fine.”

I looked at Kijima Junior. “Aren’t you Professor Kijima’s son?”

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” He glared back at me. Clearly he hated nothing more than being asked about his father.

“It’s just that Professor Kijima’s such a great teacher, that’s all.”

“Well, at home he’s a great dad too.” Kijima parried.

“You and Yuriko are always together. You must be really good friends.”

“Well, that’s because I’m her manager,” Takashi responded playfully. He stuffed both hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. Those two were up to something. And I was so eager to find out what it was, I could hardly contain myself.

“What kind of manager would that be?”

“I do a little of this and a little of that. Oh, and by the way, Yuriko has decided she’ll join the cheerleading squad.”

Now isn’t that ironic, I thought, as I turned to look back at Kazue. She was looking down, pretending she wasn’t the least bit interested. But I knew every fiber in her body was trained on us.

“Kijima, what do you think of that girl there?”

Takashi glanced over at Kazue and shrugged without the slightest interest. Yuriko looked annoyed and tugged on his arm.

“Kijima, let’s go.”

When Yuriko turned to walk away, it suddenly dawned on me. She was no longer the little girl who had chased after me along the snowy road that night. Just six months ago, when she set off for Switzerland, she hardly ever spoke out, but now that she’d been separated from me she seemed much more assertive.

“Yuriko?” I asked, as I grabbed her arm. “What happened to you in Switzerland?”

Was her body temperature low? Yuriko’s arm was icy cold. What was the point of my question? It was obvious, I suppose, and also extremely ill-tempered. But I wanted to induce her to tell me what I had already discerned—she’d had sex with a man. She was no longer a virgin.

But Yuriko surprised me.

“I lost the person I loved the most.”

“Who?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.” The glimmer in Yuriko’s eye intensified momentarily, as if it were a flame. “Our mother, of course.”

She looked down at me with contempt. Her face twisted, the light in her eyes flickered, and her expression turned to one of sorrow. I longed to make that face of hers even more hideous than it was right then.

“And you don’t look even one bit like her!”

“Resemblance is meaningless.” With that as her parting shot, Yuriko latched onto Takashi’s shoulder. “Kijima, I’ve had enough. Let’s get out of here.”

Kijima barely had time to turn around before Yuriko dragged him off. But he did manage to gaze back at me with a curious stare. Yes, that’s right. I was completely taken with the question of resemblance, and I would continue to be. I am even now. I don’t know why.

Before I could return to my seat, Kazue dashed over to me and began her grilling.

“Hey, what were you talking about with them? You were out there a long time.”

“Oh, a lot of things. You didn’t come up in the conversation, though.”

Kazue lowered her unnaturally double-lidded lids and thought about it for a moment before asking, “What should I do to get Kijima to notice me?”

“Why don’t you write him a letter?”

Kazue’s face lit up at my suggestion. “What a great idea! I’ll write a letter. But before I send it could I show it to you? It would help to get an impartial opinion.”

Impartial? My lips twisted into a smile. I noticed that the smile was an imitation of the one Yuriko had used earlier.