by Kayla Morgan
No funny texts during her late-night work sessions. No jokes during lunch and dinner. He didn’t even speak to her during 2D Design. He kept his eyes firmly focused on his portfolio project.
He’s just busy, she told herself to make the guilt hurt less. It wasn’t working very well. Michi kept telling her to apologize to him. But Emily didn’t know how. And that wasn’t just some lame excuse. She truly had no practice until now. She tried to explain that to Michi, but she just didn’t understand.
Plus, her stressed out brain was too busy crumbling under the pressure of her schoolwork to research what to do about all of this “people-drama”.
Despite all of her nights up until two in the morning, and constant vigilance during class, Emily still couldn’t find the final piece for her portfolio. The other four pieces she had picked were some of her best works, but nothing else she had drawn was good enough for the final one. Nakamura-sensei had also informed them that they would be expected to present their favorite piece to the class on Thursday, explaining which elements of art they had been trying to depict in it.
Yet another reason why her brain was screaming. Emily had long decided that public speaking was a torture device used by teachers to beat down the already insecure into crippling piles of depression. She was an introvert in the mangaka field, for Osamu’s sake!
“Mangaka are expected to explain their ideas for their latest series, Johnson-san. This will be good practice for you,” Nakamura-sensei had promised her.
She wanted to die.
And now, it was 1:47 AM on Tuesday morning, and Emily still didn’t have her final piece. She laid out like a starfish on her bed. The white crumpled papers of defeat buried her body like a blizzard, and her opened sketchbook suffocated her face both physically and mentally. She let out a dramatic groan.
“Emily, just pick one!”’ Michi argued with her again. She was sitting at her desk still studying before one of her business finals. “What’s wrong with all those ones littered all over your body?”
“They are the worst! I need my last piece to be perfect! This is my first portfolio as an artist. I’ve got to really prove myself to Nakamura-sensei!”
“Well, you’re driving me crazy! Either draw something that works or pick something that you’ve already made! Because if you keep groaning over there, I can’t promise you’re going to wake up tomorrow. The rest of us have academic concerns too, you know.”
Emily rolled over with a sigh, and her eyes rested on her wig. She did have one picture that she was particularly proud of— the “Paper Dream” drawing she had made right before she started school. But where was it? She hadn’t seen it in a while.
Emily tore through the sketchbook again and then, when that was a bust, she started tearing up the rest of the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” Michi huffed.
“I’m looking for this picture I drew a while back. But I can’t find it.”
“Well hurry up! This is worse than the dramatic groaning!”
Emily looked through her sock-drawer sketchbook one last time, but to no avail. However, there was another picture that stood out to her— the burst of feelings that she had drawn after her not-really-a-date date with Akio.
If I don’t pick it as my piece to share with the class then no one will ever see it except Nakamura-sensei. Boom. Problem solved.
Maybe now, she could finally get some sleep.
If she actually passed her other exams, it would be by the grace of the great Osamu Tezuka himself, because she was an absolute wreck. She spent 99.9375874% of her time hyperventilating about Thursday’s presentation. She had picked the easiest illustration she had to explain to the class, hoping that would alleviate some of the fear. But it really only kept the panic to a smaller scale. The fear was still constant.
The day of the presentation, Emily’s entire body was slumped down into her chair. Her wig pulled as much in front of her face as she could manage. It gave her déjà vu of the first day of this class. Back when Akio had just been an acquaintance instead of the reason her heart twisted violently every time she chanced a glance to the right. He was currently playing some world-building game on his phone. He hadn’t even looked at her once.
Nakamura-sensei got the class’s attention and reminded them about the purpose of their presentation. The violent earthquake in Emily’s body raged even harder.
“So I think we will start with…,” she began. Her eyes landed on Emily in the back.
She tried to beg Nakamura-sensei with her mind and violent headshaking:
Pleaseletmebelast, pleaseletmebelast, please—
“Let’s start with the front row. We will start with Suo-san and end with Johnson-san.”
She almost fell out of her chair in relief.
There were people out there who said that going first was the best, because then you could “get it out of the way”. Those people were terrible human beings, who probably also enjoyed throwing rocks at kittens and kicking puppies. Emily never wanted to go first. She needed all the other people to speak, so she could decompress. She needed to watch a few people fail first, so she could feel better about herself.
Maybe she wasn’t any better than the puppy-kicking people after all
The earthquake inside of her settled down into a steady, nervous quivering, which was the best she could hope for at this point, as the students went up to explain their pieces. There were some impressive pieces, and there were some that definitely made Emily feel guilty-happy about her own piece. But then, her breath hitched as she saw Akio’s long form shift up beside her, and he walked to the front of the room.
His tall, serious frame oozed a somber confidence. Osamu in heaven, she sure could use some of that.
There was no piece on the screen yet, but Akio started his presentation anyway. “My piece was taken in the light of the evening sun. It shows the contrast yet symbiotic relationship of red and black. I used my editing program to bring that out just a little bit more from the original picture. It’s the contrast of the colors in our lives. The moments of excitement and desire and wonder versus the dull moments. The moments we hide in the dark. The walls we put up to keep others out. ‘The Passion versus the Shadows’.”
On the last sentence, he clicked the button on the projector’s remote and the title of his work popped up. But something else popped up too.
A picture of her.
Emily’s hearing waned as she stared at a wall-sized picture of herself. She was looking off into the distance on their Akihabara “date”. He must have taken it while she was waiting for him outside of the 7-11. That’s why he had given her that guilty look when he came back with the food.
Emily continued staring at the picture. Did she really look like that? It had to be the editing, right? That was a strong figure staring off into the distance with the look of determination and fire that matched the red sunset streaks that were glowing in her black hair. Not the chaotic mess she actually was.
Emily felt the stares before she picked up on the hushed whispers. She tore herself away from the picture and looked at her classmates. Some of them, mostly girls, were looking back at her and whispering. She could hear snippets: “together”, “dating”, “jealous”.
She ducked her head even deeper into her hair. Akio finished his speech, but she didn’t pick up any of it. The tremors were back but for a new reason. She felt like she was trapped back in high school again with the whispering witches who made her life a living hell. She had hated the whispering most of all.
And honestly, they were being ridiculous. The word Akio had used for passion didn’t mean what they thought it meant. It was “jyonetsu”, which meant zeal or excitement. Not “renai” which could stand for passionate love. They were all just missing the point of the piece. Jumping to conclusions. If they really knew how Akio acted around her, especially right now, they’d know he wasn’t interested in her like that. Not at all.
“Johnson-san?”
Emily pe
eked through her hair. Nakamura-sensei must have called her a couple times, because she looked concerned.
“Johnson-san, are you ready to give your presentation?” she asked again.
“Only if I absolutely have to?” she replied with a fixed smile.
She chuckled. “Yes, Johnson-san, you know you have to.”
Emily took a huge breath and shakily pulled herself out of her chair. Akio sat back down in his. She took carefully calculated steps up to the front, so she wouldn’t fall on the way up. Because she had lived through that horror once before. And she did not want to live it again.
Emily picked up the remote and clicked her picture up immediately.
She rushed with a wavering voice. “The title of my piece is ‘Cosplay Princesses’. They are based off of two actual cosplay girls that I met in Akihabara. As you can probably see, I was trying to show texture in my piece with the ruffles in the girls’ skirts. And also value with the differences between the dark black and bright pink.” She froze then sent a panicked look at her teacher. “And, yeah, that’s about it. It was a lot of fun to make. I hope you enjoyed it too.”
Ugh. Nice ending. Very smooth.
Nakamura smiled patiently. “I love this piece, Johnson-san, but I am surprised that you picked it as your favorite. Personally, I really liked the piece ‘Longing for Your Embrace’. And, since it perfectly encapsulates all of our 2D design concepts together, I actually uploaded it to your presentation, so we could look at it together as a class.”
She pressed the button on her computer and up popped Emily’s nightmare.
It was the picture about Akio that she had drawn. The one that she purposely didn’t pick to show everyone.
Every curse word she knew flew through her head as she stared in horror at the piece.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell us about this piece, Johnson-san?” Nakamura-sensei asked with a smile.
She is so sweet with that little smile of hers, Emily thought under all the fear. She has no idea how close she is to ruining my life.
Emily shook her head.
That apparently wasn’t good enough. “Well, what is the vision behind this piece? What is it about?” Nakamura-sensei encouraged her.
“Um, well, you see, I—” Her eyes itched to look at Akio. But there was no way she could do that now. “I, um, I drew this picture because of some…feelings.”
Perfect. I never said it’s my feelings. Or who they were for.
“Oh! So this is an abstract representation of something tangible?”
“Yes. Um, so, the crazy swirls and explosions and all that is the feelings of nervousness and fear but also awe and wonder and just all of that jumbled-up feeling you get sometimes, you know?”
“Certainly,” she agreed. “And the circle?”
“The circle is what starts it all, but it’s also the presence that keeps it all in. Sometimes what triggers your emotions is also the thing that protects you from it. Like being on a boat in a storm or...,” she stopped. A surge of courage swept through her. Maybe this was the chance to apologize that she needed. She’d make it big and dramatic, just like the shows she watched. Her courage drove her to look straight at Akio in the back of the class. “It can also come from the safety of having an amazing best friend. Even if there are uncertainties, especially when the one person messes up so badly and is a complete idiot and says really awful, stupid things, there is still the hope that he might forgive her.”
“That’s a wonderful analogy! This piece has even more depth than I originally realized. As you can see class, Johnson-san found the perfect way to—”
But the rest of Nakamura-sensei’s lecture was lost on Emily. She was too busy staring at the boy across the room. The boy she had just poured her heart out to in front of the entire class of whispering idiots. There was no way he didn’t understand it was all for him. He may be a guy, but even he had to have picked up on what she was saying.
But instead of getting a look of forgiveness or even a friendly smile, Emily was staring at nothing. Akio had completely ignored her. Head down, shoulders shifted away, still playing on his stupid phone.
The rest of the class was like watching a blurry memory about someone else. Emily had no connection with her body as she walked to the back of the class and grabbed her stuff, Nakamura-sensei dismissing them all to leave. She didn’t feel the scorching heat of the blistering sun as she strode back to her room. It wasn’t until she heard the slam of her dorm room door behind her that Emily felt anything at all. Then all of the feelings came crashing in at once. And she fell onto her knees on her thin dorm room floor and wept.
chapter eleven
The scenery at the top of the mountain was gorgeous. The ryokan was decorated with deep auburns and dusted cherry-reds. Restaurants and quaint little boutiques looked absolutely delightful. But the only thing that Emily could pay attention to was the couples.
They were everywhere.
The girls were giggling. The guys were holding doors or shopping bags. They were dripping with a lovey-dovey aura. She needed to take a long, brooding bath just to get all these “happy feelings” off of her.
“What’s with all the couples?” she mumbled.
“The temple attached to this place is known for its love fortunes. Couples come from all over to read them! Didn’t you know that, Emily-chan?” Michi beamed back at her. She was obviously giddy to go spend an all-expenses paid vacation with her no-strings-attached guy.
Can’t I just give her a quick punch in the throat?
But instead Michi got to just bounce off, dragging lumbering Lucas behind her.
Emily couldn’t believe her luck. She was going to have to spend the week at a couple’s spa.
“Fan-freaking-tastic,” she mumbled to herself, in English. She hadn’t found anything in the Japanese language that was equivalent to that phrase yet.
She was a wreck just watching everyone around her. On the outside, she was the picture-perfect poster girl for utter disdain. She looked like she was 17 again and her mom was trying to convince her to be in those damn debutante balls. But on the inside, her heart was broken and bleeding. Ever since Akio publicly ignored her, Emily felt like all she ever did was cry, get snot everywhere, or sweat any time she was forced to go outside. Every morning that she woke up and hadn’t died yet from a complete loss of fluids still surprised her.
Mentally, she knew she was being ridiculous. She didn’t have a reason to be this upset. The couples surrounding her shouldn’t bother her the way they did, because she wasn’t with Akio. Never was. And never could be. She just wished her heart would get its shit together.
She wished he had forgiven her.
Hamada had started up the hill. When he realized Emily hadn’t followed, he walked back down and bent down to her level. “Um, Johnson-san? Are you ready?”
She let out a pitiful sigh. “I guess so. I’m so sorry you got dragged to a couple’s retreat, Hamada-kun. I had no idea. Or I never would have asked you to go through this. I don’t know what my grandma was thinking.”
Hamada chuckled. “It’s all good. A free vacation is still a free vacation, right?”
“I guess so.” But her heart still hung with dread. “Let’s get this torture started then.”
She tried not to be such an American about things. She really did.
But the thing was an onsen is that you have to be naked. In front of a bunch of strangers. Emily was the type of girl who felt the most comfortable when she was drowning in all her loose layers. But she told herself she could get past it. She wasn’t going to be one of those tourists.
But then she realized another important fact— she was wearing a wig, which she obviously couldn’t wear in the onsen. It wasn’t because she thought people would think it was a wig. She had gone through the whole trimester without anyone figuring it out. No, the problem was that she already had to do her best to not pass out with her wig in the trips outside in the summer heat. These hot springs could g
et up to 40 degrees Celsius, or 105 degrees Fahrenheit. You weren’t supposed to spend long periods of time in it anyway, because people passed out if they weren’t careful. Her wig was only going to make things worse.
She snuck down to the female onsen with a towel wrapped around her natural hair, in case Lucas or Hamada came down to head to the male side. Thank Osamu, they didn’t. She quickly undressed, shaking like a leaf from nerves, and then headed to the shower room to get cleaned before entering the onsen. She pulled off the towel wrapped around her head.
And that’s when the staring started.
She tried to ignore it the best she could. But the flashbacks started— not only of her miserable high school days, but of this past Thursday, when the whole class whispered about her “model” picture. She heard one phrase whispered by one of the little girls to her mother: “purple hair”.
Her hand shot up to the fading purple streak in her hair. She heard the mom shush her daughter, but it was the final prick to her frazzled self-confidence. With that final pop, she hopped up and ran back to the changing area, threw her clothes and hair towel back on, and flew back up to her room.
The futon beds hadn’t been put out by the staff yet, considering it was only three in the afternoon. She had been hoping this vacation would help her heart heal some. Instead, she flopped into one of the low, legless chairs and sighed. A couple tears even fell down her cheeks, which irritated her even more.
Frustrated with herself, she got up and reapplied her makeup so that no one would be wiser of the tears. Just like Grandma Margaret had taught her to do. Her breakdown in front of Akio when she originally came to Tokyo was something that she had never done before. Even when the other kids at school ridiculed her, she never let them see her cry. Because Johnsons do not let others see their weak side.
She refocused on the trip and picked up the beautiful yukata, a light cotton kimono, that was provided for each guest. This one was spun with green trails of delicate leaves with light blue flowers blooming softly across it. She had been forced into a lot of “beautiful” dresses in her life by her mother, but nothing was as lovely as this piece. She slipped on the special socks and geta, the wooden sandals that went with the outfit. She fitted her wig back over her hair and felt herself instantly become lighter. A soft smile fluttered across her lips. She was safe again, and she actually looked pretty damn good.