Mai’s throat went dry. She ran her tongue out to moisten her lips, thoughts slowing, mind a bit numb. The keys were on the inside, which meant Wakana had to have locked the door from within.
She hadn’t left through the door.
Mai stared at the open window, one hand fluttering up to halfway cover her mouth as she shook her head, and thought of Daisuke. Of the police calling him a runaway.
It seemed Monju-no-Chie school had a second “runaway.” Only this one had left through a second-story window.
Kara sat at her desk trying desperately to stay awake over her math homework. She spoke Japanese fluently, and could read and write it fairly well, but sometimes mentally translating the instructions on a section of calculus homework made her want to scream. It ought to have been the simplest thing, but the Japanese words describing certain formulas and mathematical theorems confused her, which led to frustration, which led-this late at night-to outrageous boredom.
It didn’t help that they had walked miles tonight, both before and after their dinner at the noodle place, before taking the train back to the station near Monju-no-Chie school. It was just down the street from Kara’s house, but she had not dragged herself over the threshold until nearly ten o’clock. Her father and Miss Aritomo were out later than she had expected them to be, but this, of course, was a stroke of good luck. Her father couldn’t very well give her a hard time for staying out so late when he, himself, had not yet come home.
All night, she had been distracted by the question of whether or not to tell her father about Kyuketsuki. She had been emphatic about not doing so when talking to her friends, but inside she had been torn. If he believed her, he would be angry with her for not having told him the truth originally, and he might well pull her out of the school and pack them both back off home to Boston on the next flight. If he believed her.
Much more likely was option B, in which he didn’t believe a word of it and was either offended or assumed she had lost her mind. In either case, he would have to do something.
Kara hated not being completely honest with her father. Their relationship had always been open, especially after her mother’s death. They had drawn strength from each other, and the truth was a big part of that. But if she told him the truth, one way or another, he would have to act on it.
No, she had decided while reading from her biology textbook, attempting to study. If anything truly weird or scary happened, or if she had reason to believe Daisuke’s disappearance had anything to do with the curse, she would tell him. Otherwise, there would be no point. All the truth would bring either one of them was stress, and unhappiness.
For what felt like the thousandth time, she tried to focus on the directions for the third section of her math homework. Her eyes felt itchy and dry and exhaustion caused her chin to start to dip toward her chest. Her lids fluttered as she struggled to stay awake.
Maybe she did actually fall asleep, just for a few minutes, before voices outside her window woke her. Kara inhaled sharply, blinking, and for a moment only sat there, reacquainting herself with the waking world. Only then did she realize what had caught her half-conscious attention, and zero in on the voices.
Her father and Miss Aritomo were back from their dinner date at last.
Once again, she found herself in conflict, with new thoughts only adding to the mental turmoil. If she told her father, and he believed her, who would he tell? Miss Aritomo? The principal, Mr. Yamato? The police? Even if Kara could persuade her father that she and her friends had not imagined the wild things she would be telling him, once he spoke of it to others he would be subject to ridicule. No one would believe him, any more than they would have believed Kara, Sakura, and Miho. Perhaps he could convince Miss Aritomo, but in the end, it would mean dishonor and humiliation for him, and for what purpose?
Kara took a deep breath and rubbed grit from the corners of her eyes. No. She’d been right the first time. Talking to her father about any of this had to be kept as a final option. Right now, they had only their own fears to report. For all they knew, they were in no danger.
Sitting up straight in the chair, she focused intently on the instructions for the final section of her math homework. Half a dozen problems and she could go to sleep. This time, for whatever reason, she managed to decipher the directions in fairly short order. That’s all? She smiled. This would take twenty minutes or less to complete.
But as she took up her pencil, she heard voices again and realized her father and Miss Aritomo were still outside. If they were saying good night, they were sure taking their time about it. God, she thought, they’re probably totally making out, right there, where anyone driving by could see them.
Perhaps they had been, but now they were talking. For the first time that day, she managed to calm her thoughts and just listen.
“-tell you how much it’s meant to me, spending this time with you,” her father was saying, his voice low. Didn’t he know she could hear him? Or maybe, since the only light on in her room was the little one on her desk, and she’d been so quiet… did he think she was asleep?
“It’s been a wonderful surprise for me, too,” Miss Aritomo replied sweetly.
“Ever since Annette died, I’ve worried almost every second. Was I doing the right thing for Kara? How could we start our lives over? Would coming to Japan make that easier, or more difficult? Always doubting myself. But whenever I’m with you, I feel such a sense of peace.”
Kara smiled sadly, there in the glow of her one little lamp. If her father had really been that anxious all the time, he rarely let it show. He’d done an amazing job of keeping their world steady, and the two of them had taken care of each other. If Miss Aritomo brought him peace of mind, how could she begrudge him that?
“I’m glad,” the art teacher said, voice dropping even lower. “I feel that peace, too.”
A pause, a hesitation, and she knew they had to be kissing. Kara wanted to talk, to knock something over, click off the light, do something to let them know she was there and could hear them. They were being so quiet, but not quiet enough, and she didn’t want to hear, because the truth was, she did begrudge him the happiness Miss Aritomo gave him. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop it from hurting. Every longing glance or sweet word between them was a reminder to Kara that her mother was dead.
“Yuuka,” her father said, his voice a rasp, obviously breaking their kiss, “I believe I’m falling in love with you.”
Kara’s mouth fell open, her chest tightening with grief. The pencil fell from her hand. Fair or not, hearing the words hurt her deeply. Her ears burned, face flushing, and she reached out and turned off the light.
Outside, low voices dropped to nearly silent whispers.
Ignoring the rest of her homework, Kara crawled onto her bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, staring wide-eyed at shadows. A few minutes later, when her father rapped softly at her door and spoke her name, she remained silent and did not invite him in.
6
O n Thursday morning, Kara’s father woke her before her alarm could go off. She drew a deep breath, only vaguely aware of the conscious world, eyelids fluttering, and then she felt his grip on her shoulder, jostling her.
“Kara, get up,” he said.
Even in that blurry, not-quite-awake state, she noticed the edge in his voice. Not anger, but concern-a little fear, perhaps-and she forced herself to open her eyes. Her father sat on the edge of the bed, barely seeming to weigh the mattress down, and for the first time, she noticed that he had become even thinner since they had arrived in Japan. Local cuisine didn’t really allow for a lot of extra weight. Her mother had called her dad “the stork,” but now he looked even more like a bird than ever. Tall and thin, sometimes awkward, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared at her.