So yeah, here's the next installment of my Suzu story! It's just like the other Suzu story, only not as good!
This one's a good bit shorter than my last few. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Comments are greatly appreciated!
Chapter 10: Cloud Mojo
Is there a statute of limitations on what’s nostalgic and what isn’t?
Like, can you feel the same way about a really bitchin’ cup of strawberry mocha blend you had last week as you do about a train ride you took with you mother ten years ago?
I don’t know. Life questions always stump me. That’s probably why I’m up here on the roof right now. It’s a good place for stumped people.
Life, school and Suzu. Not in that particular order. It’s like a strange game of eight degrees.
Life is... life. Suzu keeps me grounded in that life. School, well, inhabits some strange middle ground. A short-minded way to look at things? Maybe. But it’s how I see them. And isn't that what matters?
The wind carries the pebbles and smacks them against the chain link like wind chimes. I envy the wind, and yet I pity it. It can’t feel pain, yet neither can it feel joy.
...
Blah, that was corny. I need to think of a new phrase.
Before I can narrow down my options, the sound of crunching distracts me. It’s the girl I saw about a week ago, the weird artist. The girl, with no arms I may add, plops down next to me, and stares off into space.
“Uhm... hi?”
She acknowledges me with a half-eyed gape before turning back to an apparently extremely interesting drink stain on the wall. She’s like a red-haired Suzu. It’s a little scary.
“What are you thinking about?”
Her voice is a bit more monotonous than Suzu’s, but it still has enough similarities to give a very eerie effect. Are they twins or something? Because that’d actually be pretty hot.
“Why would I be thinking?”
She turns to me. “No one comes to the roof unless they’re hungry or they’re thinking. You don’t have any lunch with you, so I assume you’re thinking about something. Unless you just forgot your lunch.”
I chuckle quietly. “You caught me. I don’t have any lunch.”
“Maybe you’re thinking about lunch? I do that sometimes. Mainly when I’m hungry. For lunch.”
“Ah...”
“So you’re not thinking about lunch?”
“Well, I am now.”
“Sorry. Maybe. Should I be sorry for it?”
“Why would you be?”
Her crimson eyebrows inch upward, as if confronted with a paradox. “Maybe you didn’t want to eat lunch today. Maybe I just reminded you of a unpleasant lunch-related memory. Maybe your relative died choking on a ham sandwich during lunch. If so, I’m sorry. And I give my condolences to your family.”
“....Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s the least a gentleman can do. Will crying on my shoulder ease your pain?”
“Nothing will ease the pain of my sandwich loss.”
She hangs her head, and if she had a drink I imagine she’d be pouring it out for my dead homie.
…
Why am I playing along with her? Maybe I’ve built up an immunity to weirdness. Like taking a lot of snake bites to the leg. Weird snake bites.
“So what are you thinking about? I assume you’re thinking about something. Thinking about lunch all the time will make you fat.”
“A lot of stuff.”
“Stuff stuff?”
“Yes, stuff stuff.”
“Any particular stuff stuff?”
A familiar strain pops up behind my eye. Sometimes I think my scar is a sentient being. Otherwise, why would it get all achy when I’m exposed to high levels of what-the-fuckery?
“Just... life, I guess.”
“Does it pertain to that girl you always hang out with?”
My eyes shoot over towards her. “How do you know about that?”
“Perceptiveness”
“What else do you know?”
“That you two are having se-”
With a leap that would make Superman jealous, I place a hand over her mouth, even though no one’s around to hear it. She glances down at the obstructive appendage with little more than mild confusion.
“Look, I don’t know how you know about me and Suzu, but we’re not doing that... yet.”
She nods in understanding.
“Sorry, last time someone asked me that question I nearly chopped my finger off... long story.”
I remove my hand from her mouth.
“Doesn't sound too long.”
“Well, it is,” I answer, irritation creeping through my voice.
We sit there for a few minutes to break what has to have been the weirdest conversation this school’s seen in... months, I guess. History’s been made here.
“How long could it be? You nearly cut your finger off, that’s not really a process that takes a while.”
“Don’t you have some cloud watching to do?” I ask, a bit more rudely than I intend.
“Nah, they don’t look too interesting today. They look like... clouds.”
“Clouds do tend to look like clouds.”
“No, I mean, I don’t feel anything from them. Usually I’ll see something I’m thinking about. Like an ice cream bar, or an iguana, or my bed, or-”
“Yeah, I get it; the clouds look different.”
She bobs her head solemnly, and for a minute I think she may cry. I've certainly never seen someone cry over clouds before. So, what should I do? Be the dogged nice guy? Couldn't hurt I guess.
“There, there, I’m sure you’ll find your... clouds mojo soon,” I tell her, patting her with a trepid hand.
“Thanks,” she answers, quickly reverting back to her cheer-... well, not depressed demeanor. “So, now that you helped me through my existential crisis, any problems I could help you with?”
I hold off from sighing, figuring that’d be more than a little unmannered.
“No, that’s fine, really. I’m good.”
“Are you sure?’
Am I sure...
“No. I’m not sure. I keep telling myself that I am, but I know that I’m not, and that just makes me mad. I know I have no reason to be mad. I mean, I've seen the people here, seen what they have to go through. I know I don’t get what it really means to go through that.
That just makes me feel left out... I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
My shoulder begins to lean to the right, courtesy of her foot. I suppose that’s to make up for her lack of a hand to put on my shoulder.
“Allahu akbar.”
I stare at her in confusion, fearful that her inane ramblings have degenerated into full-on tongue speaking. “Say again?”
She even smiles like Suzu. I feel like she may be a clone.
“It means ‘God is great.’”
I’m a little less confused now, but just slightly.
“What’s a Japanese teen doing learning arabic?”
She shrugs, flapping her knotted sleeves like a cotton wings. “Heard it in a song somewhere. I was also watching Star Wars, and then that one guy, the one who has the power to spot traps, came on, so that’s what it reminded me of.”
“I’m not much of a religious person, to be honest with you.”
“That’s fine. It just seems like something you’d like to hear. Even if there are a lot of bad things, there’s at least something good out there.”
“God?”
“Or ice cream.”
“Heh... know any other phrases?”
She slithers her tongue around the confines of her mouth, deep in thought.
“Nope,” she answers. “So if you and Suzu aren't doing that thing that you don’t do, what
do you do?”
“We, you know...”
I take a page from her book and play with my tongue. I come to a realization. We haven’t done anything. I mean, boyfriends and girlfriends tend to do stuff together, right? Well, there was the coffee shop, but that didn't really count. Gah, I need advice on this... but from who?
….
Fuck it.
“Hey, uh, quick question.”
“Hmm?”
“Say you had a boyfriend... wait, do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not since ‘Nam.”
“....Right, well, where would you want to go if you had a boyfriend... a poor boyfriend.”
I immediately regret my decision to ask her advice as she begins to rock in place like a bored five-year-old.
“Probably the movies. Or a nice barbecue restaurant, something like that.”
That’s... oddly normal. Though the barbecue restaurant may be a stretch for my pocketbook. A movie, on the other hand, seems manageable.
“Thanks for the advice.”
“It’s what I’m here for. Just call me Morgan Freeman. Or Rin Tezuka, since that’s what most people call me. On account of that being my actual name.”
“Well, thanks Rin. I appreciate it.”
She bobs her head, laying down on the pebbled floor. Her eyes are brimmed with deep concentration, as if trying to uncover some clarion call in the clouds.
Opting to leave her to her own devices, I exit the roof.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aw fuck, fuck, fuck. No good. No good at all.
Fuck sixteen. It’s the worst number of them all. Why was it even invented? Stupid.
“You mind hurrying before I get wrinkles?”
I shoot my girlfriend a dirty look. “Sometimes I like you better when you’re sleeping.”
She grins like the bratty five-year old she really is deep down.“ Didn't sound perverted at all, nope...”
“Shut up.”
I catch a glimpse of her tongue as I look down at my cards; when I lift my head back up, she’s looking down at her hand, fake innocence all over her face. Pretty sneaky, sis.
To the side are our esteemed dealers, more preoccupied with their game of soccer than with this life-or-death game of blackjack we’re playing. I have a feeling one of us may end up in the hospital tonight with a gunshot tonight for “being a varmint,” whatever that means.
Resigned to my loss, I sigh and signal over.
“Hit me.”
Miki idly reaches her hand over, flinging a card in my general direction.
I nearly jump for joy upon fetching the card from inside my shirt. “AW YEAH, BABY, CHECK THEM QUADS! WHO’S GOT A TWENTY? WHO’S GOT A TWENTY? THIS GUY!”
My bleary-eyed opponent pouts as I partake in my celebratory tribal dance.
“That’s extremely off-putting, just to let you know," Suzu complains, her eyes rolling like a gossipy teenager.
“What was that?” I ask, cupping my ear. “Can’t hear you too well, must be all the WIN in my ear right now! Miki, darling, flip the card, will you?’
“GODDAMMIT F.C., OLD PEOPLE FUCK FASTER THAN YOU RUN THE BALL. Oh, yeah, here you go.”
With a dramatic flip, her next card is revealed in turn. It’s a three of clubs, for a grand total of...
“Twenty-one...”
Molly leans across Miki to look. “Well, isn't that funny-ARE YOUR FEET MADE OF JELLO OR SOMETHING, HOLY SHIT!”
“So... guess we both lost,” Suzu says sheepishly.
“Yeah, yeah, guess we did,” I answer in turn.
We sit there across from each other silently...well, kinda.
“FUCK YOU F.C., I JUST LOST 100 YEN TO THAT TAINAKA BITCH!” Miki exclaims, snacking away on the M&M’s we were using as chips.
“Guess we’re all losers today,” I chortle quietly.
“Speak for yourself,” Molly sighs as she stretches out on the couch.
“ Didn't you have 100 yen on this game also Molly?” Miki asks.
Molly’s face falters as she slumps alongside Miki on the couch, the both of them now 200 yen short.
“Hey, Suzu?”
She turns to me in surprise. “Yes?”
I twiddle my thumbs a bit. This is turning out harder than it should be. “You’re not... doing anything later this week, are you? Say... Saturday night?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see two pairs of brown ears twitch like a dogs.
“Not that I know of... why?”
Her grin is subtly cat-like. I know she can’t resist teasing me, especially in front of the M&M group.
“Wanna, I dunno... see a movie?”
“Sounds good.”
We proceed to pick up the cards strewn around the floor, a knowing gleam in both of our eyes. I resist looking into the faces of our two friends, for fear that I’ll burst out laughing. Their expressions are a humorous mix of happiness and being dumbstruck. I imagine Suzu’s taking just as much pleasure in it as I am.
Somewhere, I have a feeling Rin managed to find her cloud again.
