So while Mr. Yamato glared at her through his small, square glasses, she kept the bonsai foremost in her mind, trying her best to keep her poise, both inside and outside. Otherwise, she knew she would never be able to lie convincingly… especially in front of her father.
“Kara,” Rob Harper said, his voice tight, “Yamato-sensei asked you a question.”
Pushing aside her guilt, she drew a breath and made a small bow to Mr. Yamato. The principal sat behind his desk, and her father in a chair to her right, beneath the window, but Kara had been left to stand.
“I’m sorry, Yamato-sensei. I was surprised by the question. I don’t really know how to respond to it, except to say that I have never had even a single conversation with Daisuke or…”
Kara frowned. She couldn’t think of the girl’s name.
“Wakana,” her father supplied.
“Right,” she said, with a quick nod. “Sakura and I have been helping out with Aritomo-sensei’s Noh play after our calligraphy club meetings because we’re kind of interested, and Aritomo-sensei has been so nice to us, advising us on our manga projects, and our friend Miho is in Noh club. I might have said hello to them, but no more than that.”
Mr. Yamato studied her intently over the top of his glasses like a prissy librarian who took the rule of silence in the stacks much too seriously. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Long seconds ticked by before he altered his facial expression, and that was limited to a slight raising of the eyebrows. At last he shifted in his chair.
“You can think of no reason at all why Miss Genji would suggest that you might know where our two runaway students have gone?” the principal asked, his voice dry as sandpaper.
Kara blinked. Was the guy a robot? She had just answered the same question, but apparently not directly enough for the principal.
“None,” she said flatly. “Except that she doesn’t like me.”
“Why do you say that?” Kara’s father asked.
Mr. Yamato shot him a stern look, then seemed disappointed when Mr. Harper did not look duly chastened. Kara stared at her father, hoping that her patented death-glance could make him more cautious with his words, even if the principal’s obvious displeasure hadn’t. They had some things to sort out between them, no question, but for now, they needed to back each other up while still staying out of trouble.
“Mai and her friends have never liked me, not since my first day of school here,” Kara explained. “Maybe it’s because I’m a gaijin. Or it might just be that I don’t like the things that they like.”
The principal nodded slowly. “They bully you, this group of girls?”
Kara shook her head. “Not bullying, exactly. But they do tease. They call me bonsai, because I’ve been…” She couldn’t think of the word for uprooted, or one for transplanted. “Because I’ve been cut away from where I grew up and now I’m here. It’s not really very hurtful. At any school, there are always going to be people you don’t get along with.”
Mr. Yamato glanced at her father, then back at Kara.
“Are there people who have seen the way these girls treat you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A lot, I’m sure. My friends, and others. They’ve never made it a secret, though I think Mai likes me least of all. I think she blames me for her friend Ume leaving the school.”
Kara had been trying to tell as much of the truth as she could without getting into trouble. Lies were difficult to keep track of. But now she realized she had made a mistake. Mr. Yamato had not mentioned Ume, but the light of recognition sparked in his eyes when Kara brought her up, which suggested that Mai had already made a connection between Ume and Kara in the principal’s mind. What the hell had she told him? Could she really have told him the truth?
Wild stories, her father had said. Right now, she wanted very much to know what wild stories Mai had told the principal.
“Why would she blame you for Ume leaving?” Mr. Yamato asked.
Kara scrutinized the principal. If Mai really had told him the things that Ume had revealed to her-about Kyuketsuki, about haunted dreams and killer cats and blood-sucking things-surely he did not believe that story? Mr. Yamato hadn’t brought it up yet in their conversation. That suggested he was embarrassed even to discuss it, which worked in Kara’s favor.
She hated to lie, but as she felt the principal’s gaze on her, glanced at her father’s dark eyes, she knew the choice had been taken from her. Mai had already accused her once of having something to do with Daisuke’s disappearance, and yet they still had no reason to believe anything horrible had befallen the missing. No reason to believe the curse had brought fresh evil to Monju-no-Chie school.
“I have no idea,” she said firmly, meeting the principal’s inquisitive gaze but not daring to look at her father. “My friends and I didn’t get along with Ume at all, but we didn’t drive her out of here. To be honest, though, Yamato-sensei, I am glad she is gone. She was far worse to me, and especially to Sakura, than Mai has ever been.”
Kara had hoped that would be the end of it, that Mr. Yamato would dismiss her now. School would be starting in fifteen minutes or so, and he would want to prepare for the morning assembly. But he did not seem satisfied with her answer. Whatever Mai had told him, it had unsettled the man, gotten under his skin. She could almost see the thoughts roiling around in his head.
At length, he seemed to decide on another question, and Kara froze. No, she thought. Don’t do it. Don’t ask.
“Have you ever seen anything strange at this school, Miss Harper?” Mr. Yamato asked.
Kara glanced at her father, saw how intently he was studying her, and wondered what he must be thinking and if the principal had already explained to him what wild things Mai had accused her of being a part of.
“I don’t understand,” she lied, turning back to Mr. Yamato, no longer feeling an ounce of guilt. This was about protecting herself and her father and her friends. “How do you mean ‘strange,’ sir?”
The man opened his desk drawer and slid out a thick sheaf of paper that had been clipped together. Kara didn’t have to ask what it was. The rich, dark colors of the first page of her and Sakura’s manga stood out on top.
“I asked Aritomo-sensei for a copy of this manga you have done with Sakura Murakami.”
Kara nodded, hoping her totally freaked-out, you’ve-gotta-be-kidding me smile would come off as sheer enthusiasm.
“ Kyuketsuki. Yes, sir?”
Mr. Yamato hesitated. He swallowed, contemplating, and glanced at her father, which made Kara realize that the principal might have told him some of what Mai had said, but not all of it.
“Miss Genji claims that you and Miss Murakami based your manga on real events that took place here, at this school, several months ago.”
Rob Harper apparently couldn’t help himself, for he scoffed a little, then tried to cover by pretending to be clearing his throat.
Kara reached up to tuck a loose strand of her blond hair behind one ear. She’d been in a hurry this morning, and hadn’t gotten the elastic quite right for her ponytail. For some reason, her sailor fuku uniform itched awfully today.
“That’s true,” she said.
Mr. Yamato’s serenity broke then. Astonishment was the first real expression she’d ever seen on his face.
“What?” he demanded.
“We weren’t trying to do anything in poor taste,” Kara said quickly. “But when those students died during the last term, and then we ran across the old Noh story about Kyuketsuki, we sort of had an inspiration. I think it really helped Sakura to draw the story, too. After her sister was murdered, she had been having a really hard time, and doing the manga was…”
Kara glanced at her confused father and switched to English. “Dad, what’s the Japanese word for therapeutic?”
Rob Harper supplied something Kara only barely caught. Her mind was awhirl as she spun out this alternate version of the truth. None of it was really a lie except for her pretending not to know what Mai was talking about. She had also committed major sins of omission, but she was on solid ground now. These were lies she and Sakura had told before.