Chapter 3
Flash forward to
ten years later and I was happily dreaming away until my pleasant sleep was
destroyed by my alarm. I cracked my eyes open to make sure it was daytime, and
flinched at the sunlight which had infiltrated my bedroom. I attempted to
muster up the energy to get out of bed, but I was dead to the world until my
snooze alarm rang.
I rolled out of bed and fell to the floor with a bang, completely
unaware that I wasn't going to live to see the end of the year. My eyes glanced
at the photo of Grandpa and I (which I had beside my bed) and I suddenly
remembered what I had dreamed about. My adopted grandfather. It was odd that
I'd dreamed about Grandpa. There was once a time when I used to think of him
everyday. Sometimes to the point where I would begin to cry, only to be consoled
by my older sister (who would often cry as well). After entering middle school
my life had become so much busier with homework, friends, and high school
entrance exams. So I hadn't stopped to dwell on the man who adopted me almost
ten years ago.
Maybe appearing in my dreams was his way to make sure I didn't
forget him, or maybe he was just wishing me luck on my first day of high
school.
I lived with my older sister
since my grandfather died. Well technically she wasn't my real sister.
She was Grandpa's only daughter, which made her my adopted sister. She was
about fifteen years older than me and already married. She quit college to
raise me which was pretty cool, considering we weren't related by blood. She
was strict and liked to tell me what to do, but she was nice sometimes too. I
think if I was going to miss anyone it would definitely be Sis, or her
five-year-old daughter Sophie.
I picked myself up and got dressed. With a yawn I made my way
downstairs to eat breakfast.
My sister's husband Steve was already sitting at the table. The best
way to describe him would be as a
shirt and tie office worker with glasses one inch
thick. He was my parental figure. Well, as much as he liked to think he was. He
and my sister both met way back when they were in college, and they married a
few years later. I liked to think of him as being more like an older brother
than a father. We often hung out and played video games together. Sometimes he
could even beat me.
Steve was sipping coffee while mulling over the morning paper. He
liked to pretend that reading the news would make him well-informed, but I knew
he just liked reading the TV guide.
"Maybe I should change jobs," he said while gazing over
the classifieds.
"Don't say that," said Sis as she dished out toast.
"But it's unlikely that I'll get a promotion. And with the
economy being the way it is, it might be better to move on to something more
stable."
"But your job is stable, you're not going to find anywhere else
which is so flexible about your family life."
Brother often complained about how much he worked, but it was less
than what my friends' fathers put in at their companies. At least Steve was
still around at breakfast. He even made it home in time for dinner most nights
of the week. I had a friend in elementary school who hadn't seen his father for
a month, even though they lived in the same house.
Apparently he worked for a trading company. I once asked about it,
only to be told an obscure French name, and it involved importing and
exporting.
With a pair of glasses resting on her brim (which made her look just
like her father) my niece Sophie came running into the room. She climbed up on
a chair, stole a piece of toast from Steve's plate, and began nibbling along
the edges.
Sophie was really cool
because it gave me the chance to feel what it was like to have a real younger
sister. She was also awesome because she'd do almost anything I told her. I
could just sit on the couch and tell her to fetch me the remote, a pillow, and
some potato chips. It was like having your own little servant.
My sister laid a small bowl of oatmeal before me. "Are you ready for
school Mikey?" She asked.
I cringed. Mikey was the ridiculous nickname that she liked
to call me at highly inappropriate times. Like in front of my friends, or a
girl I was trying to impress at the mall. I tried to convince her to stop, but
Sis was relentless with her nicknames.
"How come Mikey gets to go to school? I want to go to school too," whined
Sophie.
"That's because Mikey is a big boy," said Steve. "He
has to go to big boy school now. You go to little girl school next week."
I tried to prevent myself from choking on my oatmeal. I decided I
would have to take drastic measures that year to make sure Sis never came into
contact with my cool new high school friends. She almost ruined my reputation
on the first day of middle school when she came to collect me from the school
gate yelling "Mikey, Mikey!" For the world to hear.
I decided that it was best to make my escape in case she offered to
drive me. I stuffed the remaining toast into my mouth. "OK, I'm off,” I
said before grabbing my lunch and running outside.
* * *
I live in a small
town surrounded by mountains. It was far from the sea, so it was always boiling
hot in summer and freezing cold in winter. It was still cold for April, so my
breath came out in small puffs of smoke as soon as I left the house. I wish I
had the intelligence to bring a scarf, but I was running late for school so I
decided to endure. I began jogging to keep myself warm.
I picked my high school for one reason and one reason only. It was
the closest one to my house. I worked my
butt off studying for the entrance exam, all for those extra fifteen minutes of
sleep. I now wonder if I could have
avoided death just by going to the next school down the road.
My new high school was a large three-story white building with a
gravel area at the front. Some kids were playing baseball when I arrived. It
wasn't a famous school, but it was still private and the tuition wasn't cheap.
I roamed the halls searching for my classroom, until a teacher took pity on me
and accompanied me there. There were already over thirty students loitering
around when I arrived. Some were talking in small groups and a few were playing
on their cell phones. Others, also like me, were floating around like they
didn't know what to do. Eventually the school bell rang, and a male teacher
entered who guided us towards our assigned seating. I was seated three rows
from the front, which wasn't bad because my eyesight has been failing
recently.
My home room teacher was a middle-aged man with short hair. His name
was something beginning with P, like Mr
Philips or
something. I wasn't sure. It's hard to remember all the teachers’ names. I
should have paid more attention because he'll probably be the one to break my
death to the class.
Mr P (as I called
him) gave a short speech about the importance of high school, getting good
grades, and all the other crap that teachers like to talk about. I found myself
falling asleep during the middle. I rested my head against my elbow momentarily
for a quick nap, only to find myself being nudged awake. I waved my hand to
fend off their assault, but they refused to give up. I lifted my head to come
face to face with the student on my right who was a guy with a bowl cut and
glasses.
"You're next," he hissed.
"Next for what?" I asked.
"The self introduction!"
I looked around to see thirty eyes all resting on me. Wait, thirty one if you included my new teacher. Mr. P coughed. "Matsumoto, if
you would be so kind as to introduce yourself to the class."
I wasn't good at improvisation so I just said the first thing which
came to mind. "My name is Michael Matsumoto, I like sleeping."
There was a snicker. "Yeah, I think we noticed that already,"
whispered someone from behind me. I spun around to catch them in the act, but
everyone conveniently had their mouths shut.
I proceeded to listen to the rest of the class introduce themselves,
which wasn't that exciting. Sleep threatened to overtake me once more, and I
almost hit my head against the desk when my body began to pass out.
Looking back on it now I should have put more effort into my self
introduction. It was the perfect opportunity to impress the female population
of the class. I should have told them that I was good at sports, or that I had
plenty of interesting hobbies (none of them too macho). Now I would forever be
labeled as having an attitude problem.
Mr. P pulled me aside in break time to lecture me on the importance
of getting enough sleep and paying attention in class. All I could notice was
how strongly he smelled of cigarettes. His teeth were also yellow, and I felt
tempted to lecture him back on the importance of dental hygiene.
Finally my first lunch time at high school arrived, which meant one
thing. I could finally bring my lunch to school. From kindergarten to the end
of middle school I had been subjected to eating the school lunch which could
range from tolerable to disgusting. I reached into my bag and pulled out my
plastic lunch box which had been neatly wrapped in a gray cloth. I soon noticed
that the box was pink, which should have been a warning of what was soon to
come.
I carefully opened the lid, and all my hopes and expectations were
crushed when I saw what lay before me.
It was terrifying. All the sandwiches had been carefully shaped to resemble
Hello Kitty, complete with little whiskers that had been cut from lettuce.
There were also little Hello Kitty flags poking up from my egg roll and salad.
But the worst part was that Sis had written Mikey in tomato sauce across
everything. It would have been cute and all, if I were a five year old girl.
I didn't know what Sis was thinking. This was high school, not Sophie's
kindergarten. I reached for my lunchbox lid so I could hide it from
the world, but I had already been exposed.
"Wow Hello kitty, it's so cute!"
I looked up to see a girl standing before my desk. She was cute with
short black hair which she'd fashioned into two pig tails. Her skirt was
average length, and she had the right mix of cute, yet sensible, which might
get past Sis. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the class, but I wasn't that
fussy.
I reached for my cloth to quickly throw it over my lunch and save my
dignity, but it was then that I realized my Hello Kitty lunch box was a
potential chick magnet. I lent back on my chair and attempted to appear suave,
despite my abomination of a lunch being exposed for the world to see.
"Yeah you bet it is, some guys think Hello Kitty is too girly,
but I," I paused to think of the right words. "Like to get in touch
with my more feminine side."
"I see," she leaned in closer for a better look. "Do
you think that maybe I could have one of the little flags when you're finished
with it?"
"Yeah, sure," I reached forward and ripped it out of my
lunch and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she smiled.
"No problem,” I
said with a wink. “Any time."
She twirled the flag between her
fingers. "If you don't mind me asking, your name is Michael Matsumoto
right?"
I was surprised she could remember my name after hearing everyone's
self introduction. I assumed that she'd heard of my amazing reputation from
middle school. Most of my friends had gone to different schools (some even
leaving the town) but there were still a few of my old classmates roaming the halls.
Surely the rumors had begun to spread already. I was a real chick magnet back
then. During the course of two
years I had a total of four girlfriends. One even
threatened to jump out the classroom window after we broke up.
I couldn't believe my high school love life was beginning already. I
thought I'd have to put some effort into this whole girl thing, but they were
already lining up.
I put on the Michael Matsumoto charms, and turned my face so that it
showed off my good side. "Yes it sure is, and what might your name
be?"
"Song, Annie Song."
And that was how I first met Annie. Back then she was a vision of
perfect health with no blood pouring from her forehead. She was always kind and
never hesitated to defend me in front of the others. If I'd known the future, I
would have done more to repay her kindness, but instead I just saw her as
another cute girl that I could play around with.
"Annie," I repeated. Then I went in for the kill.
"That's such a cute name, just like the girl it belongs to."
"Annie!" Said a voice
behind me. "You shouldn't waste your time on guys like that."
I turned to face my nemesis who had ruined my chances at love. He
was seated behind me at the far right. He was pale; almost sickly so, with
short blonde hair and average build. What looked like a math textbook was laid
out in front of him. He'd obviously been studying until he made the decision to
ruin my life.
Annie looked nervous. "But, I thought it might be good to know
some of our new classmates."
"I know what you're thinking," said nemesis (as I decided
to call him). "We can talk about it
later."
Annie looked like she wanted to stay, like any sensible girl would
(because I'm awesome) but she gave in and went back to her desk.
"Bye, it was nice to meet you, Michael Matsumoto."
"It was nice to meet you as well, Annie Song."
During the course of the day I paid extra attention to my nemesis.
Until lunch time he'd been just another blob in a sea of students, but now he
was on my radar. I quickly discovered his name was Isaac and he was good at
school, almost frightening so. Every time a teacher called on him, he would
stand up, answer the question correctly, sit down, and then stare at his
textbook intensely like he was attempting to burn a hole in it.
Annie was also very cute during class time. She would often lose her
place in the textbook, only to be reminded by the girl sitting behind her.
Sadly the rest of my day was lacking in girl action, or even friend
action. There were a few classmates who looked like they'd make good friend
material, but I hadn't come to any final decisions on which group I should
target. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally make friends with the
uncool people, and spend the remaining four years of high school regretting it.
But when faced with death, my high school worries suddenly seem
ridiculous now. If I had known what was
to come, I would have spent less time worrying about friends, and more time
building my own personal fortress.
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