2 | Breaking Character

                                    

                                          
Thursday, April 12, 2007
"Katana-kun!" Mori bounces over to my desk, his hair so stiff from gel that it doesn't move an inch. "Want to eat lunch with me and my friends?"
From the time I transferred two months ago, Mori has made desperate attempts to be my friend—even after the new school year started. I knew he was dense, but seven weeks is really pushing it.  
"No, thanks," I reply, lifting my naturally inward-slanted eyebrows to soften my perpetual frown. 
"Let's at least swap email addresses. You remembered to bring your cell phone with you this time, right?" Mori reaches into his pocket for his cell phone then leans on my desk, pressing buttons. "I'll invite you to a group date." He pauses momentarily. "Oh, that's right; you have a girlfriend. Then, karaoke. Do you have infrared?" He holds his phone up, ready to exchange information.
I want to sink into the earth and disappear---or better yet, watch Mori sink into the earth and disappear. "My cell phone's broken." In truth, I don't have a cell phone. I don't need one; after all, no one is contacting me, and I am contacting no one.
"Katana-kuuuuun," he whines, wiggling cutely. It's the type of behavior that makes him seem friendly and popular with everyone. "How do you talk to your girlfriend then? Hmm..." He peers at me. "Which one's a lie?"
No matter which is a lie, I'm trying to avoid you all, aren't I? As I stare at the grain patterns of the wooden desk, the past flashes through my memory.
On the way back from kindergarten, I saw some kids my age playing in the park. "Mom." I looked up at my mother, who held my hand. "Why can't I play with the other kids?"
She stopped in her tracks. "They're... bad kids." 
I knew I couldn't be the only good kid on the planet and stared at her in suspicion, watching her lips tremble and shoulders tighten. 
"Hey..." She crouched down and gripped my hand tighter. "Just listen to Mom, okay?" My arm trembled along with hers, like an aftershock from an earthquake. The way the her large eyes bore into me, pupils shaking, filled me with fear. "Don't do this to me." That phrase became her trademark.
The memory fades, and I'm left confronted with Mori's impatient, questioning eyes. If I admit I don't have a girlfriend, that leaves me vulnerable to the advances of girls. If I admit I don't have a cell phone, it'll make me seem like a freak who's poor, which might start gossip and rumors. If I admit anything, I'm a snob for lying to the popular kid. Which road is the least dangerous?
"Ka-ta-na-kun." His hand lands on my shoulder, which annoys me so much that I forget my act and shoot it a glare. He whips it away as if I've burned it. "Ah... No karaoke then?"
Suddenly, the class's second king, Ke-something appears, grabbing Mori by the sleeve of his blazer. "Leave it be, Takuya." His eyes scan me with disdain. "Some people like being alone." They walk to their friends waiting at the front of the classroom, but Mori sends me a salute before turning away.
Ke-whatsit might be right. I don't know if I'm one of those people, though. After all, being alone is all I've ever known. "Don't stand out," my mother's words echo in the back of my mind. But I'm exhausted, tired of being deliberate in everything I say and do, pushing people away without seeming too rude—the balancing act of abiding by all the rules. I feel like I'll soon stumble. And when I do, I'll feel a second of relief before realizing that along with everything that's crashed down, my mother is lying among the mess, broken.
My chair squeaks across the wooden floor as I stand up, pretending not to see all the eyes judging me. With a book under my arm, I leave the classroom to take full advantage of this reprieve.