Tak had only just received the script three days before the first Thursday rehearsal. Although he had snickered at the very simplistic English at first, by Thursday he was rather grateful that most of the first two episodes consisted of lines like, “Hi, my name is Jimmy! Nice to meet you!” and “I’m fine, thanks! How are you?”
Thursday’s rehearsal took place in a meeting room. As Tak entered, he saw the star of the show sitting on the table, Wan-chan himself. The robot was about the size of a miniature poodle, but had long ears like a spaniel and a corkscrew tail. The oddest thing of all was his color—bright purple. On seeing Tak arrive, Professor Handa pushed a remote control and Wan-chan suddenly stood up and came walking across the table. He stopped in front of Tak and raised his right paw.
Tak jumped back when the robot said, “Hello, Tak!” Then he realized it was just Shana talking.
“Yoroshiku. Nice to meet you. But I’m not Tak, I’m Jimmy.” Everybody laughed and clapped.
Note to self: Make sure that nobody at school finds out I’m on this seriously weird show.
The first week went by in a blur for Tak. After the first rehearsal, the producer wanted a lot of changes made, and a new version of the script was faxed on Friday afternoon. On Saturday he spent the whole day in the studio, and Tak couldn’t believe how long it took to make two fifteen-minute TV shows. He ate lunch and dinner with the Wan-derful English cast at the studio, and when he finally got home at ten on Saturday night, he rolled into bed exhausted. It was hard to get up the next day for his American football. He was glad spring break was just around the corner.
Tak noticed a new character was joining the cast for the third show. The script said, “Jo, Tak’s 13-year-old cousin from the USA, who comes to stay with him in Tokyo.” This was potentially good news—having someone else his age on the show might help to dilute some of the “weird” factor for him.
When he arrived at the next rehearsal, out of breath and sweaty since he had run all the way from the subway station, he didn’t see any sign of the boy playing Jo. He took a seat at the table next to Narelle and rummaged through his bag for his script. He found it crumpled and damp at the bottom of the bag, after realizing his sports drink had leaked.
A girl’s voice called out, “Ohayo gozaimasu!” Tak knew that the TV people greeted each other with “Good morning!” as they entered the studio, even in the evening, but he kept forgetting to do it. Looking up to see who owned the voice, he groaned out loud. “Jo” was a girl? Chanto Shita Girl!
One of the producers introduced the newcomer. “Everybody, this is Rena. She will play the role of Jimmy’s cousin, ‘Joanna,’ or ‘Jo.’”
Rena bowed politely to everyone and introduced herself in Japanese and English. Trent winked suggestively from across the table, while Narelle dug Tak in the ribs with her elbow. “She’s cute!”
Rena was directed to the vacant seat on the other side of Tak. As she sat down, she wrinkled her nose and frowned slightly. Tak guessed he still smelled sweaty.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he commented.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” Rena retorted, taking out a pink plastic folder with her script nestled neatly inside. Tak snatched up his own tattered script and turned away.
Note to self: Bring a plastic bag next time. This girl makes me want to vomit.
After spring break, the new Japanese school year began in early April. Tak moved up to ninth grade, his last year of junior high school. All his teachers suddenly started talking about the high school entrance exams that Tak and his classmates would be facing in less than a year’s time. Between rehearsals and filming for the show, American football, and his homework, the days were flying by.
AJE-TV began airing the show on Tuesday afternoons in mid-April, as part of the lineup for the new school year. Tak’s mother recorded the first episode on their DVD player, and the whole family sat round to watch it after dinner that night. The show was surprisingly entertaining in a quirky way, and even Tak’s father laughed out loud in some places.
Since Tak’s friends were all busy after school with their club activities or studying at cram school, he was reasonably confident that none of them would see the show. His mother and Keina were dying to tell their friends, but he had sworn them to secrecy.
As he grew better acquainted with the other cast members, he began to enjoy hanging out with them. Trent shared his interest in hip-hop music and was friends with one of Tokyo’s leading DJs. He promised to take Tak to a show sometime. Narelle, once Tak got used to that squeaky voice, was surprisingly funny and knew a lot of good jokes. Shana had another regular role as a host on a music show and entertained Tak with stories of the singers and groups she had met.
He was even getting fond of Wan-chan. Working with a robot co-star didn’t always go as planned. Filming stopped when something malfunctioned, and Professor Handa would run on to the set and tinker with his creation until the problem was fixed.
In one scene Wan-chan was walking along the Johnson family’s dining table, but Professor Handa’s timing with the remote control was off and he didn’t stop the robot quickly enough. Wan-chan walked off the end of the table and crash-landed on the studio floor. The cast and crew watched in horrified fascination as the little robot split in half right down the middle.
Professor Handa rushed over to his creation and sadly cradled the two halves in his arms. “I don’t think I can fix this today,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Itai! It hurts!” Shana ad-libbed in Wan-chan’s voice, and a wave of laughter eased the tension.
The producer and writer went into a huddle with Professor Handa and then declared that the schedule was too tight for delays. All of Wan-chan’s scenes would be filmed from his right side, which had sustained less damage. There would be no close-ups of the robot, and the scenes where he was supposed to move were quickly rewritten.
Note to self: I guess the show must always go on—even if the star is broken into two pieces.
The only real problem was Rena. Tak just couldn’t get along with her. She always knew her lines perfectly and rarely messed up, unlike Tak. The rest of the cast and crew knew it was his first TV show, and they were patient with him. Everyone else seemed to think his jokes and antics were hilarious but Rena usually just put on that strained, fake smile she used when she didn’t approve of something. Unfortunately for Tak, Jimmy and Jo had a lot of scenes together. In the breaks, he made a point of talking to the other cast members and ignored Rena as much as possible. On the few occasions when she tried to make conversation with him, Tak responded with one-word answers.
One Monday in early May, Tak realized that his cover was blown. He had scores of text messages from his football teammates in both Japanese and English. “Wan-derful!” “Woof, woof!” “Hi, Jimmy!” When he checked his email, it was the same thing. It didn’t take him long to work out what had happened.
One of his football friends attended the same international school as Rena and was friends with her on Facebook. She had just posted a link to the brand-new Wan-derful English home page on AJE-TV’s website: “My new TV show! Please check it out!” If you clicked on the link, it led to a big photo of the cast with Tak smack-bang in the middle, hugging Wan-chan and grinning like an idiot. Tak’s teammate had reposted this on his wall and tagged Tak.
A boy at his school used to be in the football team, and by Wednesday it was all over Tak’s school, too. Even the seventh graders were coming up to him and addressing him as “Jimmy.”
In a way, he was relieved that it was all out in the open now, and he was enjoying all the attention. He was, however, furious with Rena for starting it all. My new TV show! To top it all, he got a friend request from her on Facebook that evening.
Note to self: No WAY.
The next day was the weekly rehearsal for the show. The first episode they were filming that week only involved Tak, Rena and the robot. Trent and Narelle were coming in later, as was Shana, since she only ha
d to do voice-overs.
Tak didn’t say anything to Rena until they were taking a break while the producer and writers discussed some last-minute changes.
“I saw your Facebook post! ‘My new TV show! Please check it out! Oh, I’m such a big star!’” Tak said, mimicking Rena’s voice.
Rena put down her can of juice. “I didn’t say I was the star,” she pointed out.
“You sure act like you think you are,” Tak retorted. All the frustration he had felt since day one came tumbling out. “You always have to be so . . . chanto shita about everything! You’re just Ms. Perfect, aren’t you!”
Rena’s face suddenly crumpled up and her eyes became shiny.
Oh, geez, thought Tak. Now I’ve made her cry.
But Rena didn’t cry. She just sniffed a couple of times, as if to compose herself, and took a sip of juice. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Well, you never make mistakes. Just because you’ve had more experience! This is my first TV show.”
“It’s mine, too!” said Rena.
“Maji de? Really?” Tak was astonished. “You’re so . . . good!”
“Thanks—I think,” answered Rena with a slight smile. “I practice a lot. I’m always so afraid of messing up in front of all the other actors and the crew,” she admitted.
“Me, too,” agreed Tak. He still couldn’t believe that Chanto Shita Girl was a newcomer to TV, just like him.
“So, um, like I said, I practice a lot,” said Rena, taking another drink of juice. “If you want, I could . . .” She trailed off, unsure of Tak’s interest in what she was going to say.
“You could what?” Tak prompted.
“Well, I could, um, practice with you.” She glanced at Tak so he nodded. “I was so nervous before shooting my first episode that my Mom asked my agent for some help. She got the producer to let me talk to Narelle, and she Skyped with me and we went through my lines. It helped a lot. Maybe we could Skype or something . . . on a Friday after school?” she said tentatively. “Um, do you have Skype?”
Tak nodded. Rena’s idea wasn’t half bad. “Fridays evenings are usually good. Do you want to try for next week?”
“OK.” Rena looked a lot happier now. “That would be . . . wan-derful!”
“Sure,” Tak grinned. “But leave the jokes to me.”
Note to self: Look her up on Facebook. She’s not bad for a chanto shita girl.
Ichinichi on the Yamanote
by Claire Dawn
train jerks suddenly
I fall forward, into Kou
whose letter won my
Sunday with a Star contest
this day could be fun
but every second is planned
museum morning
pasta at Keio Plaza
after, Ueno Zoo
where the press can take pictures
a day more scripted
than the last movie I made
Kou holds out his hand
“you want to escape with me?”
I know I shouldn’t
I don’t know him from Goku
we step from the train
a split-second decision
security sees
they step onto the platform
quick musical notes
tell us the doors are closing
we slip back onto
the train, watch faces change
as the doors slide shut
the recognition dawning
they have lost their charge
in busy Harajuku
with salarimen
packed on the Yamanote
no one notices
two teenagers, grinning wide
a Japanese boy
holding hands with a black girl
north to Shinjuku
then Kabuki-cho exit
the red light district—
now I wonder about Kou
suddenly, I’m scared
though I’m sure he was vetted
but it’s daytime, right?
what harm can happen here now?
I let out my breath
when he pulls from his pocket
cinema tickets
for the new Ghibli movie
I use my cell phone
to text my mother—“I’m safe”
then power it off
for one whole day of freedom
there is time to kill
we find a Baskin Robbins
sakura ice cream
for me; Kou—melon soda
“why’d you come with me?”
I shrug my shoulders, don’t know
“kankei nai” he says
it really doesn’t matter
at the cinema
he buys popcorn and soft drinks
we show our tickets
elevator up four floors
poster in the hall
of my latest film, out soon
my face stares at me
can run, but not hide, from self
“you’re cute when you’re mad”
can’t help smiling, how’d he know?
we sit in silence
animations on the screen
concentration’s tough
as Kou’s knee keeps brushing mine
afterward, I ask
“what’s your favorite Ghibli?”
“Whisper of the Heart—
Mimi o sumaseba”
I laugh, he asks why
“you’re a romantic! that’s why”
Sri Lankan café
where he insists he’s treating
“why did you do this?”
I think he means escaping
he shakes his head, no
he’s talking about today
Sunday with a Star
spending the day with a fan
“talent agency
says it’s a good thing for me
“interact with fans
they will love me even more
“when I’m just a girl
when I breathe, eat, watch movies”
but what I don’t say
is that I enjoy it too
today I’m no star
I’m no idol, I’m not rich
I am just a girl
nervous, eating with a boy
his first laugh escapes
and the hairs on my arm stand
he has a great smile
teeth perfect, straight and even
a regular boy
while my face is on billboards
I stiffen, mid-thought
remember my place, and his
I’m sure he sees it
but he doesn’t say a thing
“your favorite Ghibli?”
Kou asks me my own question
Howl’s Moving Castle—
Hauru no ugoku shiro
he says, “I wonder
why foreigners love that one”
I’m stung, since to him
I’m gaijin, not nihonjin
despite the money
despite my face everywhere
despite the fact that
I’ve only ever lived here
I am still gaijin
never really Japanese
again, he feels it
the chill radiates from me
a change of subject
“what’s a typical day like?”
Kou settles the bill
“so busy” I say
“TV looks easy
but the days are eternal
“there’s always something
to be done, somewhere to be”
I ask about him
he says little of his mom
dad is a farmer
three big sisters, he’s youngest
the only boy, he
shoulders his family’s dreams
back to the station
lost in thought, with fingers linked
we take another
train back to Harajuku
scene of our jail-break
home to Gwen Stefani’s girls
sign says: hugs for free
I get one from a tall man
Kou looks on—jealous?
must wish he had a sign too
at Yoyogi Park
the costumes are amusing
’50s swing dancers,
Japanese Elvis Presleys
“like America?”
he points to the spectacle
“I wouldn’t know, I’m
Barbadian—I live here”
we sit on the grass
I describe my family
mom and dad met here
came to Japan as teachers
left the same island
a fifth the size of Tokyo
to fall in love while
fifteen hundred miles apart
dad, Okinawa
mom was in Iwate town
“honto ni?”—really?
Kou is from Iwate, too
from the prefecture
his town is Ichinohe
where I’ve never been
he says, “you should come visit”
then averts his eyes . . .
he stands, takes my hand, leads me
to the Meiji Shrine
through a giant torii gate
at the prayer box
he drops in his offering
bows his head, claps twice
to get the god’s attention
makes his brief prayer
bows once more before he turns
I ask him his wish
“if I tell, it won’t come true”
that idea’s Western
I know we don’t think that here
let him off the hook
but hope it was about me
a final train ride
to Ueno this time where
he has a ticket
for the Hayabusa Line
ritzy bullet train
back to his Iwate town
today was so fun
I felt like a normal girl
“thanks for today, Kou”
Tomo Page 22