Miyu's Wish (10 page)

“For hope,” I finished for her. She had seen things I didn’t even know were there, but that’s what this boy—Keil—had begun to mean to me.

Mrs. Scribbs rubbed her chin. “Interesting. And I’m surprised to see how well you combined both expressionistic and realistic styles.”

I didn’t know what those terms meant exactly, but I could guess. I hadn’t painted Keil so much as I had painted his mirror image, as if he was being reflected from a slightly warped piece of glass—the way I saw him in my thoughts and dreams.

“The Fall Carnival is about two weeks away,” my teacher continued. “I’d like to display it in the visitor’s tent, if that’s OK.”

I nodded again cheerfully. “If you really think it’s good enough, I’d like that!”

Mrs. Scribbs gave the canvas one last lingering glance and then walked off to find someone else to either praise or scold.

“He is an interesting character, certainly,” came Mary Beth, walking over to see the end result. “I wouldn’t mind meeting him someday, if he really does exist.”

I studied Keil for a moment longer, his dark, desperate eyes like two deep pits, imploring me to do something important.
But what? Who was he, really…

I sighed. The painting was good, I decided, but it still lacked that one final element of authenticity. I just couldn’t decide what. I turned to Mary.

“He’s real,” I said with certainty. “As real as you or me.”

Chapter Fourteen

I
 
lay on my bed, asking myself why I wasn’t out enjoying my Friday evening. Marlene had wanted to catch a movie and maybe scope cute guys at the mall, but I just wasn’t in the mood.

I stared over at my computer. “Rraman” still hadn’t responded. And I still needed to speak with Tamara. And Kimberly was still out to get me. And Aunt Mari wouldn’t discuss anything concerning my past.

I stood up and walked to the mirror; my reflection gazed back, the specter of doubt hanging across her face. I felt my breasts, flashed my teeth, and shook my mane of opulent hair. Keil’s face flashed before my eyes and, for just a moment, I wanted to cry.

It was all ridiculous of course, thinking of that boy as anything more than a bad or misguided dream. And yet he remained, probing the edges of my consciousness in a very real way. Groaning, I switched on the TV. The Japanese cartoon was on again, and I
watched the main character argue with her past self about traveling together to the future. Were my dreams of Keil actually the memories of an alternate life? Was that the connection we shared?

I eventually fell asleep, but it seemed as though I were still awake, my brain a swirling cauldron of disturbing images. My aunt was lying about something. Kimberly was plotting something nasty against me. Thad was calling me a snob. I ran from them, finding myself at a table surrounded by my friends. But I wasn’t safe; Tamara was berating me, insisting I’d always be alone, and the others were giggling incessantly like a looped recording. Their scorn was palpable, and I reeled away, but there was no place I could run. Tamara was now on the table, sliding toward me like a snake, her face cocked and twisted. I clutched my pencil and prepared to jab her in the face, but she recoiled, her eyes quivering in shame. She then began to cry, melting beneath her enormous tears until she was the size of an infant. A moment later, she was a pink sparrow sitting in the palm of my hand.

It watched me with fervent, tragic eyes, and began chirping my name. “Miyu, Miyu, Miyu.”

I stroked the creature delicately, and cradling it in both hands, kissed it softly on the head. It shook with delight, fluttering from my grasp and into the sky as a glorious eagle. It circled around radiantly before flying gracefully away. It was now my turn to cry.

My eyes slowly opened, and I sat up in bed, flicking away a tear on the tip of my nose. The sun was out, but my phone was silent—it
was only seven in the morning. I dressed into something quick and casual. Once the clock struck eight, I dialed Tamara’s number.

“Hello? Miyu?” a groggy voice answered slowly. Warily.

“We need to talk. I’m coming over. I’ll be there soon. Make sure you’re up.” I canceled the connection and slinked downstairs, leaving a quick note for my aunt on the kitchen table before stepping into the garage. Tamara didn’t live too far away by bicycle, and I was determined to straighten things out with her once and for all.

I parked my bike and approached her front door, but it swung open before I got too far. Tamara stood there, clad in sweats and a T-shirt, observing me peculiarly.

“So, what is it you want?” she asked.

“You know why I’m here,” I replied, keeping my voice even. I walked up to her and waited, gazing attentively into her face. She eventually sighed and let me in.

“There’s nothing to say. I already apologized,” she said indignantly as I glanced around. I had never been inside her home before and saw that it was much more modest than Marlene’s— or even my own—with pea-soup carpet and somewhat shabby furniture. But it seemed spacious enough and did possess a welcoming, “broken-in” vibe.

“So where’s your room?” I asked, looking up the stairs.

“It’s actually downstairs, but—”

Before she could finish, I was already scurrying down the hall. I opened a random door, revealing an unmade bed and a floor cratered with dirty clothes.

“This has to be yours, right?” I called with a slight smile. Aside from the bed and a small desk, it was a fairly barren place, but she did have a decent TV on her dresser. I began playing with the channels.

Tamara entered, looking angry. “Miyu, you just can’t go nosing around like this!”

I glanced at her meaningfully. “So you’re saying I should keep my hands to myself, right?”

She lowered her eyes and—grunting something incoherent—came to sit near me on her bed.

“Oh, you have an old Nintendo machine! I used to have one of these! Is it connected?” Before she could answer I powered it on, and we both watched Mario, the plump protagonist of the game, running and jumping across the screen. “Where are the controllers?”

Grumbling, she opened a drawer and lifted out two bone-shaped paddles. She plugged them in and handed me the first one.

“You play video games?” she inquired skeptically as we started.

“Well, sort of,” I replied, my tongue sticking out as I made Mario stomp a dinosaur. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually
played a video game outside of a few silly programs on my phone, but I somehow knew I liked them. “Who doesn’t like Mario?”

Tamara shrugged. “He’s OK, but I think it’s lame he’s always chasing after that princess.”

“She’s a lucky girl,” I said, “to have someone so devoted by her side.” But my thought was cut short; a giant bullet sent the plucky hero free-falling off the screen. “Oh, I died,” I muttered, looking at Tamara apologetically. “Guess it’s your turn.”

Tamara chuckled softly and began playing. “Don’t feel too bad. I always thought the first level was a poor place for the Banzai Bills. Starting players aren’t ready to deal with them yet.”

We continued for a time, chatting about inconsequential things and having fun laughing at each other’s mistakes. But I soon noticed I was the one doing more and more of the talking, with Tamara looking increasingly tense and uncomfortable.

“Miyu,” she finally said, staring at me pensively. “This is hard for me to admit, but…I sometimes have a hard time being around you.”

I put aside the controller and gazed at her. “Why?”

Tamara stared down at her hand, playing with the small jade ring on her finger. “What I mean is that you make me…unsure about myself. I have feelings…certain doubts…that have grown stronger since you arrived.”

She glanced back up at me, her mouth open slightly and her cheeks red. She was a real enigma, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Basically, you frustrate the hell out of me,” she added stubbornly. Her bottom lip was trembling, and her eyes were studying my every move. “I did what I did in the bathroom that day, I think, because I wanted to believe you weren’t really the perfect, nicey-nice girl you seem to everyone. I thought it would allow me to dismiss you as just another stuck-up, shallow princess. But…I was wrong. I know now I’m the monster.”

I sat up on my knees and, very solemnly, turned to fully face her. “Tamara, you’re the perfect one. So vital, so strong, you’re like the big sister I never had.” She watched me intensely as I took her hands and folded them into my own. “You’re definitely no monster. You’re my friend, and I want to be yours.”

She diverted her eyes as I finished, looking conflicted. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

I pulled her into my arms. “Of course I do. I’m lucky to have someone like you in my life.” I feared she might wrench away as I hugged her tenderly, but she remained, her head quivering tremulously in my arms. I heard her sobbing almost imperceptibly, and I felt her tears soak through my blouse.

“This is why I don’t like you,” she murmured miserably. “This is the effect you have on me.”

“Shhh,” I breathed. “This is the nicer Tamara I always knew was there.”

She was looking up at me now, her face a mix of embarrassment and wonder as I wiped her cheeks with a caress of my hand. She
seemed so fragile now, and I thought of my painting—Keil’s dejected face frozen forever in time.

“Promise you’ll try to be nicer to people,” I cooed, my voice like the sound of a wind chime.

“OK Miyu,” she whispered, her eyes closing peacefully. Her body had become limp in my arms, and I carefully lowered her head gently to my lap, realizing she was falling asleep.

She remained there for a time—sleeping soundly—and as I stroked her head, I felt a twinge of regret, as if disappointed I were not someone else. The rumble of a garage door then sounded, and Tamara stirred with a groan.

“Rise and shine,” I said kindly as she pulled herself from my lap.

She tried to focus on me, her eyes still bleary from sleep. “My dad and brother are back from Little League,” she said despondently. “I probably should send you on your way.”

I nodded. “Is your mother also with them?”

“No,” she said distantly. “It’s just me, my little brother, and my dad.”

“Oh,” I replied. “I see. I’m sorry.”

Tamara smiled. “Don’t be. And I’m happy you came. Here, I’ll walk you outside.”

We left through the front door and walked down the steps. “Sorry about your shirt,” she said apologetically, noticing it clinging to my chest.

Indeed, it was still damp from all her tears. I shrugged and flashed a smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

She grinned, and with an impulsive lean forward, kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for coming over.”

I saw that her eyes were beginning to glisten again, and I knew I needed to leave.

“I’ll see you Monday,” I called as I clambered onto my bike. I sped away, but not before turning one last time. She was still watching from the doorway, and I felt her eyes follow me all the way home.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he next couple of weeks zipped by almost imperceptibly. The hottest topic around school was the Fall Carnival, a yearly festival of sorts held on school grounds. Apparently it began years ago as an open house for parents, but it had somehow metamorphosed over time into an eclectic hodgepodge of entertainment. I was just anxious to see my painting on display.

I wondered what Auntie would think of it as I transferred a pile of books from my locker to my backpack.

“So, you going to the carnival tomorrow?” Thad asked, walking up to me and playing it smooth. We hadn’t spoken much in the last few weeks, and I regarded him with mild surprise.

“Yeah, I’m going with my aunt tomorrow evening,” I replied, heaving the bag onto my shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, looking slightly disappointed. “I had just been wondering if, maybe, you would like to go, you know, together.”

I stared at the ground for a moment, thinking. “Well, I suppose we can still meet up there and walk around for a little while. I don’t think my aunt would mind.” I shrugged and smiled coyly at him. “And maybe we can finally get to know each other.”

He grinned. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll look for you tomorrow then, maybe around seven o’clock?”

“Sounds fine,” I said. He nodded and walked off, a definite skip to his step. It was cute, but I then thought of Clarence and wondered if Thad really deserved a second chance. But the boy genius hadn’t exactly been faultless, either.