Grotesque (22 page)

“Kind of salty!”

“Have it all if you like.”

“No. It’s not very good.”

The girl said her name was Mokumi, an unusual name, but that everyone called her Mokku. Her father was the president of a famous soy sauce corporation, and she was more brazen and entitled than any of the other students.

“So, is your father white or something?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Well, if a half is going to turn out as gorgeous as you, I’ll just have to go and have one of my own,” Mokku said, in all seriousness. “But your older sister isn’t pretty at all, is she? Everyone in class just went over to the high school to get a look at her. Is she really your sister?”

“Yes, she is.”

Mokku snapped the lid of my lunch box shut without bothering to ask me if I minded.

“Well, it’s unbelievable. When we went to get a look at her, she made an ugly face. She’s a real dog, and creepy to boot. We were disappointed.

She doesn’t look like you at all. I’ll bet she disappoints you too.”

It wasn’t unusual for me to encounter scenarios like this. When people first met me, they’d come up with all kinds of fantasies on my behalf.

They’d imagine that I lived some kind of Barbie-doll life in a dream house with a handsome daddy, a pretty mama, and a goodlooking older brother and gorgeous older sister protecting me. But then, when they actually saw my older sister—who looked nothing like the image they’d conjured up—their little fantasy about me disintegrated. They’d start to despise me—so I became everyone’s little plaything.

I looked around the classroom. The students who had been so excited about my appearance that morning had returned and were sitting at their desks. Everyone struggled to avoid looking in my direction. My very existence was a riddle now. I had become a suspicious creature.

Just then something landed on my desk and rolled across it. It was a small wad of paper. I picked it up and stuffed it in my uniform pocket. I wonder who’d thrown it. The girl sitting across from me had her EngUsh textbook open and was poring over it studiously. But young Kijima, who was sitting in front of her, turned to look back at me. So it was Kijima. I took the wad of paper out of my pocket and threw it back at him. I didn’t 1 3 4

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need to read it to know what it said. He’d seen my sister. He figured out that we were one and the same.

After class, Mokku came over to me and grabbed my arm.

“Come with me. I promised the seniors I’d show you to them.”

She led me out into the corridor where a senior girl with a goldenbrown tan and a ponytail was standing. Her eyes were narrow, her mouth large, and her garish face exuded self-confidence.

“You’re Yuriko, right? I’m Nakanishi, the president of the cheerleader squad. I want you to join our club.”

“I have no experience.”

I’d never once even thought about joining a club and had little interest in the prospect. In the first place, I didn’t have any money. More than that, I really didn’t enjoy doing things in groups.

“It won’t take long to learn. Besides, you’ll be the main attraction. The students in the high school and university will be thrilled.”

“I don’t have any confidence.”

Nakanishi ignored me and lifted my uniform skirt to get a look at my legs.

“Your legs are long and pretty. You really are a perfect beauty. We have to show you off!”

Johnson’s words reverberated through my head. Yuriko is perfect.

Perfect even down there.

Mokku spoke insistently from behind Nakanishi. “The president of the cheerleaders has personally scouted you out and invited you to join.

You can’t say no.” My slowness to react irritated her and she pursed her lips. The pink lip gloss on her thick lips glistened. When I still refused to answer, Mokku snickered and said, “Maybe Yuriko’s retarded or something.”

Nakanishi gave Mokku a shove. “Mokku, you’re going too far!”

“But she’s so pretty—it wouldn’t be fair if she was smart too!”

“Give her time.” Nakanishi stepped in quickly in an effort to quiet Mokku. “It’s all so sudden she’s probably confused. We’ve got a lot of games coming up in October and we’re going to be really busy anyway.”

The president of the cheerleaders walked off with Mokku. When the other students noticed Nakanishi in the corridor, they called out to her in high squeaky voices, respectful and clearly doing their best to suck up and score points with her. I hated games like this. I thought about asking 1 3 5

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Johnson to get a doctor to write me an excuse that would keep me off the squad. But then I thought about how much Johnson would enjoy seeing me in my little uniform.

Just then I felt a dark black cloud gliding over me. It was Kijima.

“Why’d you throw my letter back without reading it?”

• 6 •

Kijima’s face was delicately chiseled for a boy and beautiful. His eyes were as sharp as a finely honed blade; the bridge of his nose thin. His attractiveness left one feeling both lack and excess. And, to be sure, with Kijima some things were missing, while others were overly abundant.

Perhaps it was a combination of pride and self-consciousness. At any rate, this unbalance made Kijima look at once both pathetic and insolent.

“What! Can’t answer?”

Kijima bit his lip in anger. Earlier, when I’d been surrounded by the other students in the class, I’d nodded to each question with a vague smile or answered with a word or two, passive and meek. It was only to Kijima that I stubbornly refused a response. I suppose this irritated him.

“I don’t reply to strangers who address me so impertinently.”

When Kijima realized I was rebuffing him, a contemptuous smile crossed his lips.

“So how would you like to be addressed, Your Royal Highness? Why should I respect someone as obtuse as you? My father brought home some files the other day and I saw your test scores. You’ve got to be the dumbest person ever admitted to the Q School system. The only reason they admitted someone as stupid as you is because of your looks. Did you know that?”

“Who let me in?”

“The school did.”

“No. The school did not let me in. Your father did. Professor Kijima.”

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My words hit home. Kijima’s slender frame trembled and he stepped back.

“Your father has his eye on me, you know. Ask him when you go home, why don’t you? How tough it must be for you to have your own father as your head instructor.”

Kijima stuffed his hands in his pockets and glowered at the floor. He shifted from foot to foot nervously. Having an elder sister who looks nothing like me may damage my image, but for Kijima it was worse. His own father would be discredited as the head instructor and would become the source of gossip. Kijima would lose his standing in the classroom.

Both he and I faced the same dilemma. Kijima thought it over momentarily and then looked up. Having at last come up with an appropriate riposte, his face was flushed with victory.

“We’ve got specimens of butterflies and other insects all over the house, on account of my father being a biologist. It’s not surprising he’d want to add you to his collection. You’re a strange species.”

“I suppose your father refuses to add you to his collection. You’re hardly worthy of attention.”

I’d hit Kijima’s sore spot. His beautiful face turned crimson and then blanched white with anger.

“That’s what everyone thinks. They think I’m a lousy student.”

“I’m sure they do. That’s the way rumors work.”

“So are you a gossip?”

“And you aren’t? You’re the one who ran off to look at my sister and came back with the others to make fun of me.”

Kijima looked like his words had gotten stuck in his throat. I wasn’t by nature the kind of person who struck first—not like my sister. But for some reason I had felt compelled to go after Kijima. Why? It was simple.

He hated me, just as much as my sister did. And so I hated him too. This was a first for me. With Kijima there was no desire. And on that score alone, Kijima was the only man I’d ever met who was different. Perhaps he was a homosexual. The suspicion would occur to me much later.

“So why’d you throw the letter back to me without reading it? Did you think I’d written you a love letter? Do you think all men are in love with you?”

“Hardly.” I shrugged my shoulders the way I’d seen Johnson do.

“Besides, I knew you’d written about my test scores.”

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“How’d you figure that out?”

I tilted my head to the side. “Because I hate you,” I hissed.

It was going to be fun to attend this school and watch what would transpire. I left Kijima where he was—standing glued to the spot—and headed down the hall at a brisk clip. As I proceeded swiftly along the corridor, curious faces rose up and then receded into the background.

Each classroom door I passed was clustered with the faces of gawking students.

“I hate you too.”

Kijima was racing after me. I could hear him panting like some demon. I refused to respond, annoyed.

“I just have one more question for you. What is it you want? Here, I mean. Are you here because you want to study? Is it so you can play around in the clubs? Both?”

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to look at Kijima straight on.

“Well, let’s s e e … . I guess it’s sex.”

Kijima stared at me in disbelief.

“So, you like it?”

“I love it.”

Kijima ran his eyes appraisingly over my face and body. He looked like he’d just come upon a rare species of animal.

“If that’s the case, you’ll need a partner. I can help you.”

What? The gaze I turned back to Kijima said as much. I caught a glimpse of a T-shirt just beneath the collar of his white shirt. His gray uniform trousers were neatly pressed. Nothing was amiss, and yet he gave the impression of being somehow disheveled.

“I’ll be your manager. No, your agent.”

That’s not a bad idea, I thought. Kijima’s beautiful eyes flashed with %ht.

“You’ve already been approached by the cheerleading squad. You’ll get invitations from other clubs as well. You’re so noticeable, you’ll want to be a star. I bet you don’t know which club would be best for you. But I can ask around. I can find out what kind of acquaintances you can make in each club.” Kijima looked back at the group of students who had gathered in a corner of the corridor to watch us converse. “Just look at them.

There’s one each from the ice-skating club, the dance club, the yachting club, the golf club. They all want to have an exotic creature like you to join so they can show you off—and not just to the boys in the high school 1 3 8

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and college clubs but also to those in other schools. They want everyone to know that Q School is famous for its beauty. They’ve already got the brains and the money. All they lack is the beauty.”

I interrupted Kijima’s little speech. “So which club should I join?”

“Well, if it’s sex you want, you need a club that’s good for sex. And since cheerleading is the flashiest, I would think it’d be the best. And look—Nakanishi already came personally to recruit you, so you can’t afford to snub her.”

I put up no resistance; becoming a toy was my destiny anyway. Nevertheless, I was curious as to why Kijima would be so interested in helping me. “Earlier you said you’d help me. What’s in it for you?”

“If I were your manager, I’d earn respect.” He grinned wickedly. “In less than half a year I’ll be moving to the men’s section of the school. The competition gets even worse there. We’ll have to contend with students coming in from the outside. And it won’t be just grades that matter.

Every little thing will be a contest. But I’ll be sure to come out on top.

Know why? Because I’ll have you. You’ll be my weapon. All the boys in the high school will want to be with you. The students here—male and female—all think the world is theirs for the taking, just because they have money. I’ll coordinate the transactions. How does that sound?”

Actually, it didn’t sound bad at all. I nodded.

“Okay. And what’s your take?”

“I get forty percent. Too high?”

“I don’t care. There’s just one condition. You mustn’t ever call me at home.”

Kijima looked down at my brand-new uniform shoes.

“You live with an American, don’t you? I take it he’s not a relative.”

I shook my head no. Kijima dug a date book out of his pocket.

“A lover?”

“Sort of.”

“You don’t look a bit like your sister and you don’t live with her. You are a complicated one.”

Kijima wrote something in his date book and then tore the page out and handed it to me. “Let’s always use this as our contact base. It’s a cafe in Shibuya. Be sure to stop by after school.”

And so, just like that, Kijima became my first pimp. Even after he moved on to the boys’ high school and I to the girls’ he continued to introduce me to other high school and university students. He had dis-1 3 9

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criminating tastes. Once he arranged for me to join the rugby team at their overnight training camp—acting on special request for the club president and vice president. Another time he set me up with the teacher who supervised the yachting club. And I didn’t just sleep with students in the Q School system: I was also available to students, alumni, and even teachers at other schools. Whoever it was, wherever, every man I came across wanted to sleep with the beautiful young star cheerleader.

For his part, Kijima set it all up beautifully, so there were no complications afterward. I continued working with Kijima until I went out on my own.

The day Kijima and I clinched our deal we bought Cokes at the school store and sat on a bench by the pool, where we toasted our alliance. The newly established synchronized swimming team was practicing in the pool, under the direction of a coach who’d been brought in from outside the Q School system. Kijima took one look at the transparent nose clips the team members wore and burst out laughing.

“The coach is an Olympian. She charges fifty thousand yen for one lesson, and she teaches three times a week. Unbelievable. But that’s not all. The coach of the golf club is a firstclass pro who played in the British Open. I guess they figure if they can hook up with the Q School system now, they can get their kids in later.”