1 | Day One

Monday, February 05, 2007

The same day in another life. A different day in the same life. Or, rather, another province, another school.... Same mother. Same life.

New teachers. Same stares.

I stand in the front of the classroom and go through the standard procedure. Write my god forsaken name on the board. I can hear them whispering the same things they always whisper.

"Is that name for real?"

"Isn't that a girl's name?"

"It's a joke right?"

You see, even before my mother became mentally ill, she wasn't right in the head. She and my father decided to name me Natsukashii. It's not a name. It's a word in Japanese that means something like, "brings back memories." It's like naming your kid "Reminiscence." So why would she name me that? Maybe she knew that in the future, anything and everything that happened in the past would be worth missing—worth a "natsukashii."

There's no way in hell I'm writing my full name on the board, so I just write the "natsu" part. The character standing alone doesn't say "natsu," but I write the pronunciation as "na-tsu" anyway. Whether someone reads the character correctly or not, it's a girl's name. Yes, Natsu by itself is a girl's name. But a girl's name is 10 times better than "natsukashii."

I stare at the chalk dust on my fingertips, internally hating every particle.

"This is your new classmate from Osaka," my homeroom teacher announces. He turns to me. "Katana-kun, introduce yourself."

Oh, I forgot to mention my surname is Katana. As if my first name wasn't strange enough.

I was a child the last time I lived in the States, but I miss not having to participate in this tradition. Natsukashii.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Natsu. Let's get along." It's the standard greeting of a transfer student. I should probably smile, but I don't like forcing it. It's also stupid because I don't want to get along with anyone.

"He's not smiling."

Ah, they noticed.

"The stoic type, huh?"

"He's so cool."

"He's annoying already."

"No way, he's hot."

Flat voices, voices of contempt, giggles, sighs. But not a sound escapes my own mouth.

One girl raises her hand. "Can we ask him questions?"

She's on my blacklist.

The teacher agrees and I prepare myself for hell.

"So, you're from Osaka?" a guy confirms. He looks like the popular type. "But you don't have an accent."

"I only lived there for three months."

A kid with a bowl cut: "Where were you before then?"

That question is the chop that splinters the wood. "...Korea."

Their voices are like hungry bees.

The type of girl that probably spends breaks reading fashion magazines giggles to her friends. "He's like an idol."

I really dislike girls.

Kid with bowl cut: "He doesn't look all Korean."

Average looking guy: "He doesn't look Japanese either."

Average looking guy 2: "Japanese, Korean, Chinese—to him we all look the same, stupid. I bet he doesn't even know."

I'm on his blacklist.

Someone from somewhere: "Is he part white?"

I swallow a sigh. At this point I don't even make eye contact.

Person A: "I'm not sure." His question turns to me, "Are you half?"

"My father was—is," I wince at my slip-up, "Japanese-American. My mother is Korean."

A series of Ahs, a random "that's cool," a "mixed race are so handsome," and a "that's kind of weird."

I want this to stop now.

Person B: "So you speak English then?"

I nod.

Person C in a mumble: "Do you think he'll answer a question from the English homework?"

Idiot A: "Du yu raiku Amerikan futtobooru?"

Finally, the teacher intervenes. "That's enough questions," he says. "The bell's going to ring soon. Katana-kun, uhh..." His eyes scan the room. Finding what he's looking for, he nods. "You can sit beside Honda-kun. Honda-kun, raise your hand."

A boy with glasses lifts his hand reluctantly. I can tell he's afraid my presence will bring unwanted attention to the area. At least I'm finally able to take my seat.

I have a list of rules for every time I transfer schools:

1) Everyone wants to ask why I'm entering the school so late in the year, but it's none of their business. So, it's important to give them a glare that says "Back off" before they get the chance to ask.

2) In the meantime, the girls around me are whispering and giggling shyly. I cannot look at them, smile at them, and especially can't talk to them.

3) On the first month, I have to slack on my schoolwork. Otherwise, the teachers will become annoyed by how easily I can do the work and how many answers I know. I must forget how to multiply, misinterpret proverbs, etc. The only thing I can't do is pretend to not know English. It's a lie that's too hard to keep up with since I'm fluent and can speak it with a perfect American accent.

And there are more rules...

But when I come to this school, I'm too sick of the routine of my life to abide by all of my rules. When people talk to me I answer, but answer vaguely. I do all my work and do it as well as I can.

But I've never been a talker or a conscious over-achiever, so I don't start up conversations and I never raise my hand.

I like being overlooked and left alone.