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.
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