I stepped out from the shiny black limousine that Haruka-chan's father had seen fit to provide us with, feeling slightly self-conscious about being transported in so grandiose a manner. Haruka-chan was already standing on the other side of the vehicle, shaking her head and scowling. I'd gotten to enjoy an earful of what she thought of her father and his limousine and his request for her visit, and none of it had been altogether flattering.
Trying to take my mind of the potential unpleasantness of this family reunion, I turned to face Haruka-chan's house. Or villa, rather. Every time I came to this place, I could hardly believe how far her family had come in the short time that I'd known them. It was easy to see where Haruka got her sheer stubborn grit from, that was for sure.
"C'mon, Yukino, let's go get settled in. This might be a long weekend." Haruka-chan scrunched her face into the expression I knew from experience heralded a developing headache.
"But it should be better than last time, at least I've got you here." She added, and I suddenly felt much better about this visit. We walked into the main foyer, where Haruka-chan's parents stood in wait. I was almost always happy to see them, as they were to see me. They already liked me for being Haruka-chan's best, and arguably only, friend. I, on the other hand, really appreciated the fact that they had, nearly eighteen years ago, seen fit to make a Haruka-chan for me to love and hug and and all manner of other fun things.
"Good day, Mr. Suzushiro, Mrs. Suzushiro." I said politely, bowing. They smiled tensely back at me, their attention more focused on their daughter. Haruka stood there, doing nothing overtly offensive. She had been raised far too properly for anything that disrespectful, but there was a clear preemptive defiance in everything from the placement of her feet to the angle of her elbow.
"It's so good to see you, too, Yukino-san. I tell you, we don't get to see nearly as much of our lovely daughter as we should, but we're glad to know that she still has you." Haruka-chan's mother's eyes darted to her daughter in the middle of that sentence, clearly indicating who the real recipient of that message was, and Haruka-chan's eyes tightened perceptively. I felt my smile freezing to my face, and my mind shifting to the realization that this might not be such a pleasant weekend after all. Still, I reasoned, it wouldn't be the first time I'd been in this kind of situation. There was another time I was looking forward to getting more time with my Haruka-chan, which didn't look like it was going to work out at first at all, but that had turned out okay...
@X@X@X@X@X@
I stood in my room. Thin rays of morning light sifted through the blinds over the window, reflecting off of the full-length mirror I stood in front of. The soft yellow rays lit upon my skin, adding an attractive golden tone, and reflected rich highlights in my short auburn hair, like burnished copper. I loved that effect, but then I felt for sure that my glasses were just a little crooked, and my ribbon wasn't tied quiet perfectly, and my skirt was far, far too wrinkly. When I finished arranging myself to satisfaction, only took about ten minutes, I grinned at my reflection and twirled around with a wild abandon, admiring the swish of my skirt over hips that I couldn't even pretend were rounding out yet. A short chirp of a giggle escaped me, as I thought that it almost felt like I was readying myself for a date, when I was only getting ready for school.
Well, perhaps that was unfair. This was my first day of junior high school, and that was pretty important, after all. With that in mind, I knelt down by my door and looked through my school pack again. I had already double and triple-checked it the night before, making sure I had all of my supplies, but could I really be too careful about this? Especially considering my slightly abnormal course path this year, I didn't want to mess anything up, not now. I could still barely believe my good fortune, that after a year mostly without her, I was going to be sharing a class with my best friend this year. Sure, we had still done things together and everything over the course of the past months, but there had still been significantly less time spent with Haruka than there had been when we were both in elementary school, and I had... not enjoyed that.
But now, thanks to my parent's excellent upbringing--I sent up a hasty thankful prayer for them both, the wonderful people--I was going to be able to skip the first-year English course and move straight to the second one, in a class that I also discovered would be taken by Haruka. I smiled fondly at my bookshelf, featuring more than a few volumes in English at my parents insistence. At first only for their insistence, I amended, my own appreciation came later as well. I walked over to the shelving and pulled off a book too, realizing now what that nagging feeling of forgetfulness was. Having a best friend didn't negate a bookworm, and I was sure that there would be a class or two here and there that would require a more enjoyable pastime than staring at the wall.
So then: pens, pencils, folders, textbooks, pack, personal reading material, clothes... I was sure I had everything now, so I hoisted my things and stepped out of the room. The house was quiet, and filled only with natural light sifting through the other blinds and curtains of my home. I closed the door softly, though my parents were already gone and at work. It felt wrong to break the peace of our home for no good reason. I walked through the short hallway, past my parent's bedroom, took a quick turn into the kitchen to grab the lunch box that my mother had left prepared for me, and continued to the front of the house. I slipped on my shoes, and launched myself out the door into new days.
@X@X@X@X@X@
I stood in my room. I was next to the bed, befuddled and confused, and looking anxiously for that damnably useful alarm clock. I remembered vaguely that I'd wanted to put it somewhere that I wouldn't be able to access it easily. I hadn't thought it would be so hard to make myself wake up when I wanted to. I was going to have to muster more willpower in the future... or perhaps get to be earlier. It hadn't been fun to find out that I was also bad about using alarm clocks. I finally realized in some semi-lucid corner of my mind that I should probably turn on the light in my pitch-dark room first, and then I was able to track the sound to the closet and inside my school pack. I brought the insistent device out, wincing at the piercing tone rhythmically shrieking from some cruel internal instrument. I'd really needed to get an especially loud one if I wanted to put it in a closet and a pack and still hear it, but that somehow didn't stop dark thoughts of chucking it into the garbage from running through my mind. At least this time I hadn't just shut it off and crawled back in bed. I was awake enough to stay up, or at least force a sleepwalk across my slightly cramped room, flick off the bedroom light, and grope my way through the small area--I didn't know what to call this architectural device that separated rooms, but seemed far too small to be considered a legitimate hallway--and into the room that combined as half kitchen, half front room. I turned on that room's light. My hand traced a familiar course to one of the higher cabinets and pulled out a small can. I opened it and breathed deeply.. I told myself firmly that I absolutely adored the aroma of the coffee grounds inside. I wasn't sure if I successfully convinced myself today, but I did my best to tell myself that I had. In any case, I scooped some out and pulled a filter out, putting both into the coffee maker. I grabbed my favorite green mug from the corner of the counter where I kept it, and poured a mug of water into the machine as well. I turned on the maker, trying to tell myself that I was looking forward to this morning beverage just ever so much, and tramped to my parents room, after turning off the kitchen light, to use the house's only bathroom and shower.
I didn't bother with their room light. I knew this way, at least, well enough to make my way to the bathroom and use that light. I cranked on the hot water and stepped into the shower stall, not having to convince myself in any way that I loved a good hot shower in the morning.
My family was a little better of this year than they had been for the rest of the life that I could recall, but I knew that we were still on the lower end of the income spectrum. Even so, the newly acquired affluence had allowed my mother and father to make a few decisions, and I still was not quite sure I was entirely comfortable with them. Firstly, we had moved into a bigger apartment in the short time after my graduation from first year. They said that I was going to need more space to myself now that I was getting so much older. Last year, I thought I would have argued about that. My raising had impressed practicality and frugality enough that I felt something inside putting up a fuss against the notion that I was going to be responsible for a drain on family resources. However, now I found that I was rather glad for a room to myself, though I didn't believe I was doing anything that required the utmost privacy in there. It was just nice.
I still wasn't totally comfortable with the move, though. So I had, unknown to them, listened in on quite a few conversations regarding family finances when they thought I wasn't anywhere near, and now did my best to help when I could in this new place. They thought that I was going on some teenage diet, while I was just trying to curb the food bill. I made a point to turn off unused lights and never left one on when I left a room, and often did without electric lighting at all when I could. I didn't watch much television or listen to the radio, and asked for precious few things for myself, in my opinion. But I still thought I got something much better in return for all of this caution, a sense of pride in my own willpower, and a security in the knowledge that I was doing all she could to make up for the move in their eyes. I wouldn't know how much I was helping, really, but felt certain I must be doing something right. I wondered briefly how much I could stand not running my air conditioner when summer rolled by in a couple of months.
Didn't need to worry about that now, though. Need to focus on getting ready for school, I told myself, realizing that I had fallen into a light doze in the shower. That was another of their decisions. They figured that they were making enough, now, to take out yet more sizable loans for my continued education at Fuuka Academy. I had argued with them about that, much the same as I had the year before my first year. I told them that I didn't need to go to any fancy, hoighty-toighty school to get a good education, but my parents wouldn't budge on that issue. There wasn't much I could do to really offset that cost, right now, but do my absolute best in my classes, so I devoted myself to my education with a fervor that I'd never felt before. My parents had been proud of their Suzushiro Haruka's grades last year and in elementary school, sure, but it was a wonderful feeling to see how impressed they were by my new diligence, and almost awed at the results it got me. They were now the proud parents of a child in the top five percent of the students in her year, which also placed me fairly lofty by national standards. I felt a little proud of that, too.
Still, my definite favorite part of my parents moving up in their respective worlds of employment was by far the fact that they didn't have to work so much any more. For so long I could hardly recall spending that much time with my parents, as they'd worked twelve hours a day standard, and often found excuses to work even more to make ends meet. It had been difficult a child that first year or so in elementary school, though my teacher had been nice enough about staying with me until she could get picked up. That hadn't been an altogether bad thing, though. A basset in supplies, really. After meeting--or rather, rescuing--my first, best, and really only friend soon into that second year of elementary, I'd found a new and wonderful place to spend my after school hours while waiting for my parents to get off of work.
Yukino's house had been as much a home to me as the apartment we'd used to live in, an even more cramped one-bedroom affair in which my bedroom had also been the living room. Yukino's house may have been even more of a home, I considered. I had left behind that old apartment with not a single regret or even a passing moment of nostalgia.
I finished my showering, feeling wholly better now that the heat had loosened up those cramps and tensions in muscles that rather strongly suggested I needed a new bed. I told them to quit whining and tough up. I wasn't about to ask my parents for some frivolous luxury like a new bed, not while I still preferred the one I had to the floor. I dried and wrapped a towel around myself, knotting it loosely over my chest--with a little difficulty, I still was not used to working my way around those big squishy things that had started sprouted over the last year, then went back into the kitchen. I took the coffee pot out of the maker, pulled my mug over and poured with a sure hand in one smooth motion. I wondered how this might look, a young girl wrapped in a towel pouring a steaming cup of black coffee with the same easy-handedness that any hassled businessman might, and the thought made me smile. Show them and their preconceptions. Then I shattered that image when I sat it down and applied creamer and sugar very liberally, until I could stand to drink it. Seriously, black? Did your tongue stop working with age? I was pretty sure it didn't, but that peculiar practice of some adults made me wonder. Now, finally, the last ingredient to restoring myself after sleep was complete, and I could begin considering other little things. Oh yes, like the first day of school. I ran through a mental checklist while I leaned over the kitchen counter. I ticked off the pencils and pens and paper, and the textbooks she would need for today. There was math, and history, and English... I stopped right there, and my smile and attached happiness was greater than I could remember experiencing since... well, the last time I had sen her. I still found myself significantly averse to the idea of going through learning that damnable language for another year. I had enough odd problems with Japanese, without having to deal with something like a foreign language, especially one this seemingly inane. But for the first time ever, I was going to have a class with a best friend, and maybe that would make things better.
I wasn't sure how it would make things better, really. I was far too dedicated to my studies to spend class time in frivolous discussion or gossip, but I was certain that it would better. It had to be, she was there. I drained the last of my sweet, creamy brew and rinsed out the cup in hot water, putting it back over to the counter where I kept it for my own repeated use. I was just being frugal with soap, of course, this had nothing to do with my dislike of scrubbing dishes.
I made my way back to the bathroom to brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair again; I brushed it fresh after showering, and again after drying it a bit, but my hair needed to be brushed repeatedly to keep from tangling. I hung my towel back up and made my way back to my room unclothed, still feeling a little embarrassed despite the home being empty. Modesty was no problem, though, I told myself. I didn't want to be like some other shameless girls I knew. I got to my room, and started to dress. I had to pause for a few minutes with my top again. This was becoming an increasingly difficult task as time went by, and showed every sign of continuing into the future. It just kept getting tighter and tighter around my chest. Too-large clothing could be re-sized and taken in, but it was another matter entirely to spin something from nothing, and I didn't want to ask my parents to buy me a new uniform top. So I exhaled as much as possible, held it, and pulled it down. It was tight, and I felt a twinge of worry at how it must look, but I shrugged mentally. Couldn't do anything for it now.
I brushed my hair one more time for good measure, taking some enjoyment in how it fell in voluminous waves around my shoulders and neck and shined in the bathroom lighting, before affixing what I felt to be a studiously mature and businesslike expression on my face and walking out the door. I made sure it was locked securely, then started to class.