feet. Her face looked worn and tired.
“Can I get a bike?”
“You want a bike?”
“It is a long way to school,” I said. “Most of the kids bike anyway. Tanaka does.” Diane arched her eyebrows, like she’d understood something.
“Oh,” she said, “you want to go biking with Tanaka.”
“Ew. Please don’t start that again.”
“All right, all right,” she said, but she looked unconvinced and suspicious. “You can take my bike on Wednesday, and I’ll see about getting you your own if you decide you like biking so much.”
“What about you?”
“Wednesdays I have a prep period first. They finally hired another English teacher, so it’s not a problem. And you may find you prefer walking, in which case I can get my bike back.”
There was no way I preferred walking. That Wednesday I hoisted Diane’s thin white bike from our balcony and shoved it into the elevator with me. I almost knocked out our neighbor with the wheel when I got to the lobby, but once I was on the streets, it was a breeze to maneuver through the traffic. The tires spewed up gravel in the park, so I had to slow down to avoid spraying passers-by. With the slow speed, I almost collapsed on my side, but once I’d found the right rhythm, it was perfect to cycle under the shower of pink petals, which would be hopelessly tangled in my hair by the time I reached Suntaba.
The breeze whipped my hair behind me and closed my ears to the noise of hanami-goers in the park. All I could hear was air, birds, the odd traffic signal beeping across the moats from the city, all buzzing together in a blurred combination. I pumped the pedals hard as I crossed the northern bridge, falling back into the city on the other side and through the gate of our school.
Class passed by slowly, and I kept staring out the windows, where I could see the pink snow of sakura from the tree in the courtyard. Yuki said the blossoms only lasted a couple weeks. Pretty soon I would wake up and discover the branches all bare.
Tanaka offered to help Yuki with the bathrooms because I’d mopped the floors for him the day before, so I managed to leave school earlier than usual, just in time to see Tomohiro straddling his bike.
I fumbled with my lock as he sped out of sight. Although I guess I didn’t have to hurry that much—I knew he’d end up at the station because he’d turned left first, which meant he was trying to throw everyone off his trail.
Always with the tricks. What was so important no one else could see?
I pulled the rusty lock off and scrunched it into my book bag, slipping the leather straps over the handlebars and yanking the tire out of the rack. I sped through the gate, nearly knocking out two second-year boys, and headed south.
I stopped for a breather at Shizuoka Station. I had a few minutes at least before he’d finish his wild-goose-chase route, and when he showed up, I’d be ready.
“Guzen da!”
I may have jumped clear out of my skin. I whipped around, but it wasn’t Tomohiro. For one thing, this guy had floppy black hair and blond highlights tucked behind his pierced ear.
“Jun!”
“You remembered.” He smiled. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“Oh, no, no,” I stammered. I could feel my face turning red. It was a million kinds of obvious that I was.
Jun grinned. “A guy, maybe? The one you saw on the train?”
Was I that transparent?
“What are you talking about?” I stuttered.
“Sorry,” he said. “None of my business, right? You just have that same flustered look again.” He reached for the heavy bag on his shoulder and pulled on the strap. “I’m on my way to practice, but I saw you and thought I’d say hi.”
“Practice?”
“Just a sport I’m into,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, trying to peer around him without looking like I was peering around him.
He leaned in a little, and whispered, “Who are we spying on?”
“Okay, fine, it is the guy from the other day,” I said. “Jeez, what are you, some kind of detective or something?”
“I watch a lot of police dramas.” He grinned. He lifted his left palm and pretended to take notes on it, his fingers poised around an imaginary pencil. “So is he giving you trouble or something?”
“He’s not—Well, I mean. Kind of?”
Jun frowned. “Kind of?”
“He’s just up to something, that’s all.” I thought of the inky eyes staring at me—they still made my heart flip over when I thought of them. “He draws these sketches that creep me out. It’s almost like they’re alive or something.”
“Creepy sketches? That’s definitely criminal activity,” he said, madly tracing kanji onto his palm.
My cheeks blazed red. “Forget it. It’s stupid,” I said, and he dropped his hands to his sides as he shook his head.
“It’s not stupid if he’s bothering you,” he said.
“He’s not bothering me. I mean, he is, but—” The words tangled as much as my thoughts. What exactly was he doing? “Sometimes it’s like he’s picking on me. And then other times, he looks like he’s scared of me, or like I’m in on some kind of secret.”
“Ah,” said Jun. “Now that, I understand.”
“So?”
“He likes you.”
I snorted. “You’re way off base, keiji-san. He even has a girlfriend.”
“I guess I’m losing my touch.” He laughed. “That just seemed like the obvious answer.”
Then he stared at me intensely and started to lean in.
“What are you doing?” I said, my pulse racing. How was this happening? His eyes were soft and dazed, like he was looking at me while half-asleep. The blond highlight tucked behind his ear escaped and fanned over his cheek, the longest strands brushing the corner of his lips. He reached his hand out toward my hair. I flinched and tried to back up, but I was on my bike and huddled against a wall. There wasn’t anywhere to go.
I felt the soft brush of his fingers through my hair, and then he leaned back.
“Cherry blossom,” he said, the pink petal pressed between his fingers. He let it flutter to the ground as we watched, and then he looked up at me. “So beautiful,” he whispered.
My heart might possibly have stopped for a second.
And then Tomohiro whizzed past with his unmistakable hair slicked
