Ink

Is this happening? Is this real?

The pen was hot in my hand and I gripped it tighter, watching the pages of my notebook flutter in the wind, watching the snails leave glittering trails across the page…

Watching as they turned and came toward me, mouths full of sharp, jagged teeth I didn’t know snails had, teeth that I hadn’t drawn….

The pen shattered beneath my fingers, drowning the doodles in ink. Shards of plastic flew across the room and scattered on desks and floors. Students shouted in surprise, jumping back from their desks to their feet. Suzuki-sensei whirled around from the board.

“What happened?” he snapped.

Tanaka and Yuki stared at my hand, covered in ink.

“Katie?” Yuki whispered.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said, my throat dry.

And then I saw Yuu Tomohiro standing in the hallway, his startled eyes watching me, his fingers wrapped around the door frame. He looked almost afraid. Had he seen it, too? Or maybe—maybe he’d caused it.

“Go clean up,” Suzuki-sensei said, and I forced my head to nod. My chair squeaked as I pushed it back to stand up, the whole class staring at me. Ink dripped off the side of my notebook and onto the floor.

“Sorry,” I choked again and ran into the hallway.

When I got there, Tomohiro was gone.

I ran to the washroom and scrubbed my hands, splashing water on my face.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked thin and frightened, barely there.

The ink spiraled down the drain. I carved lines through it with my fingertips.

There was no way this was a hallucination. The whole class had seen the pen explode. And the drawings definitely moved. I could still smell the murky moat water; the breeze had left tangles in my hair.

And Tomohiro had been there when it happened, just like before.

I splayed my inky fingers under the rush of clean water.

He was doing something to the drawings. I just didn’t know what.

“Ready to go?” said Yuki.

We stepped out of the genkan door and into the courtyard, Yuki and Tanaka laughing about something Suzuki had said—I’d missed that joke, too. The sunlight was streaming down, and a gentle, warm breeze blew through the branches of the momiji and sakura trees.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the gate to the school.

He wasn’t there.

Relief flooded through me. At least I could put off my planned confrontation for now. I just needed time not to think, time to forget everything that had happened.

Except I couldn’t. It was all I saw every time I closed my eyes.

I wanted my life with Mom back. I wanted to be normal and not see drawings move.

I started to giggle along with Yuki, pretending I understood the joke, pretending I wasn’t shaking inside. But Tanaka suddenly shot out his arm.

“Oh!” He pointed. “It’s Tomo-kun!”

You’ve got to be kidding.

I looked up, and there he was, leaning against the stone wall and chatting with a friend. The other guy had bleached his hair so white it looked like he was wearing a mop on his head.

“Introduce us!” Yuki squealed. “We can get the whole story about Myu!”

“Please don’t,” I whispered, but Tanaka was already running across the courtyard. Yuki grabbed my arm.

“Come on!” she said, squeezing my elbow and rushing us forward.

“Oi, Tomo-kun!” Tanaka shouted.

Yuu Tomohiro looked up slowly, his eyes dark and cold. His friend sagged back against a tree trunk, watching us approach with mild amusement.

“It’s me, Tanaka, from Calligraphy,” said Tanaka, panting as he stopped beside them. He placed his hands on his knees and then gave Yuu a thumbs-up.

Yuu’s face was blank at first, but then remembrance flickered into his eyes.

“Oh,” he said. “Tanaka Ichirou.”

“This is Watabe Yuki and Katie Greene,” Tanaka said. He didn’t reverse my name because gaijin never put their last names first. Yet another way I stood out. Yuki bowed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I squeezed my hands into fists and tried to do the same with my fear—I tried to squeeze it into anger.

Tomohiro didn’t bother to introduce his friend or say hello to us. He leaned his head forward slightly so his bangs fell into his eyes, then exchanged a side glance with Bleached Hair. I got the message—they wanted us gone.

But Tanaka didn’t clue in. He laughed, nervous, grasping for things to say.

“It’s been a long time, huh?” he said.

Tomohiro nodded, his bangs bobbing curtly. “You got taller, Ichirou.”

“Well, I had to fend for myself after you left.” Tanaka grinned before turning to us. “Tomo-kun used to get into fights over everything.”

Tomohiro smirked. “That hasn’t changed,” he said, staring directly at me.

So he was picking a fight with me. But over what? He was the one doing creepy stuff, not me. He ran a hand through his hair and looked over at Bleached Hair, who rolled his eyes.

Yuki spoke up. “Sorry about you and Myu.”

Tomo’s eyes snapped back to mine. I bet he was wondering how much I’d told. Was he worried I’d spilled about the drawing, too?

“Maa,” he said with a dramatic sigh, pressing his slender fingertips to his forehead. “Some people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.”

Fire spread through me. “I didn’t say anything,” I blurted.