01 | NOT Good

My first mistake of the day is not drinking coffee. I forget to grab a cup on my way out and therefore lose my source of energy for the day. It's not until I arrive at Kaijo High when drowsiness starts to settle in my eyelids and drag them down did I realize I've messed up.

Leave it to me to have a bad start to my first day of school.

Kaijo High itself is pretty impressive. I stand at the gates of the school with a dropped jaw as I take everything in. Spring cherry blossom petals fall on the students walking by, all of whom are wearing matching gray-and-white uniforms. Grand, silver buildings stretch into the sky with outdoor white corridors connecting them. If I had rose-tinted glasses, I would think it's the most beautiful school on Earth.

I take a deep breath and follow the paper map in my hands to my first class. People's heads swivel when I walk past them and I can hear their curious whispers.

"Is that a foreigner?"

"She looks American."

"I hope she's in my class. I'm failing English."

I roll my eyes at the last comment. How am I supposed to help somebody with their grades when I'm going to be struggling with my own? It's my first time ever attending a Japanese school. I've never spoken so much Japanese until my family moved here a few weeks ago.

The map turns out to be very accurate and I find the classroom with little difficulty. I hesitate at the threshold, biting my lip as I debate on how I should introduce myself. Do I act cool and nonchalant? How about nice and girly? Doesn't Japan prefer the latter?

The door slides open before I can finish my inner debate and a lanky man with glasses looks at me. I jump in surprise and he chuckles.

"You're my new student, correct?" he asks, grinning kindly.

I hold back my sigh of relief. Thank the gods above my teacher's not a demonic spirit like the one I envisioned last night in my dream. "Yes. My name's Suzuki Mari. It's nice to meet you"—What do I call him?—"sirsei."

My soul leaves my body as I realize what I just said. Sirsei? Like sir and sensei combined? What the heck, mouth?

Amusement gleams in 'Sirsei's' dark eyes and he says, "It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Call me Kobori Sensei."

I follow Kobori Sensei into the classroom and scan the area. Plain desks aligned in five rows of six are set in the center with bookshelves in the very back. Tall windows line the left wall, providing absolutely no shade for the poor souls who are going to have to sit next to them.

"Your seat is the fourth desk back next to the window."

Of course it is.

I supply Kobori Sensei a polite grin then walk to my desk and set my bag down. It's filled to the brim with different notebooks, folders, my lunchbox, and writing utensils. A heavy backpack is a well-prepared backpack.

I wait awkwardly as I watch students enter the room. Every single time they come in, they look at me then turn to each other to say something. Insecurity gnaws on my stomach, so I busy myself by arranging the things in my bag. I figure I can't embarrass myself if I don't say anything.

A girl with violet hair sits at the desk beside me and clears her throat. I glance up at her and she smiles widely. "Hi! My name's Kura Aya."

"Hey, I'm Suzuki Mari," I reply.

She cocks her head to the side. "Are you American?"

"Yup. My dad's American and my mom's Japanese so I'm half-and-half," I explain. I have a feeling that I'm going to be repeating this information a lot.

"Wah~ That's cool. I want to study abroad in America! My younger brother watches cowboy movies every weekend. I want to get a signature from one of them for him," she quips.

I blink. "Cowboys?"

"Yeah, cowboys!"

I don't have the heart to tell her that cowboys are almost nonexistent. Last time I checked, the only place you can find American cowboys are in Texas. I choose to just nod along to Kura's rambling.

Kobori Sensei silences everyone once he stands at the front of the classroom and holds his arms out. "Good morning, class. We have a brand new student with us today. Suzuki-chan."

He nods at me, and I gulp then stand up. Over two dozen gazes train themselves on me and I nervously smile. "H-hello. My name's Suzuki Mari. I just moved here from America a couple of weeks ago. I hope we can be friends!"

I sit down faster than I've ever sat down before, and Kobori Sensei takes charge of the class. Lesson after lesson drones on until it's finally lunchtime. I follow Kura, and another girl with a huge, pretty smile joins us.

"Hello! I'm Obara Katsumi, the first year's class president," she beams. I deliver my small introduction, and she lights up. "American? You can join the tutoring program to teach English!"

"Maybe." I make sure not to promise her anything.

We enter the cafeteria, and I cover my ears. Squeals of excitement drown everything else out as a hoard of girls sprint to who knows where. I can't tell what they're saying, but it sounds something like, 'key say.' Maybe they're a club that loves keys? Who knows?

The rest of the day passes quickly, much to my relief. It turns out that Kura's quite the social butterfly. She'd already introduced me to almost half the student body by the time we're getting ready to go home.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow!" I smile, waving.

"Bye, Suzuki-chan!"

"Have a good evening!"

All the talking I've done today makes my throat feel dry and scratchy. Nothing sounds better to me than buying a nice, cool drink of whatever the vending machines offer. I wander around campus in search of one and find them outside of the gyms. Lucky me.

I tilt my head down to look for my wallet that's shoved into the bottom of my bag. Because of this, I walk straight into someone's back and their sharp elbow of death jabs me in the center of my forehead. I cry out in pain and fall onto my butt, rubbing the bruised wound on my head.

Holy shit it hurts.

Tears well in my eyes and they fuel my newfound anger. It's my first day, for crying out loud! I don't deserve to be treated like a punching bag!

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were standing behind me!" my assailant shrills.

I glare up at the blurry yellow figure. He is going to get it. I wipe my tears away so I can witness the look on his face as I give him the roast of a lifetime. The rant dies on my tongue when I see who's standing in front of me.

This guy is tall, blond, and so handsome that he looks like an angel from heaven. His eyes are the color of golden caramel and his jawline could cut somebody. He offers me a sheepish grin and extends his hand to me. I accept it, and he helps me to my feet.

Wait, am I seriously forgiving him nearly knocking me into a concussion world because he's hot?

"I know! I'll buy you a drink," he says brightly.

Yes, yes I can forgive him.

I observe him for scientific purposes, of course, as he purchases the drink. He's wearing workout gear, so he must be an athlete. I wonder what sport he plays. With a lean build like his, he could be a baseball player or even a swimmer. I mentally slap myself for imagining him shirtless.

The vending machine grumbles, and I turn my attention to it. The blond guy presses in the drink code, and it groans under his touch. Nothing comes out, though. He presses the enter key again. Nothing. He tries to get his money back with the return lever, but the hunk of metal refuses. He furrows his brows and proceeds to hit the glass in hopes to loosen a drink—it fails.

"It's not working," he states the obvious.

An imaginary light bulb glows above my head.

Ho, don't do it, my conscience warns.

I ignore her—my second, no, my fatal mistake of the day.

"I think I can get it out," I offer.

I lay my backpack on the ground and stretch my arms and legs. He takes a step away; I guess he's figured out what I'm planning. I stand directly in front of the machine and take a deep breath. This worked before, so why not now?

I narrow my eyes and twist, extending my leg to strike the machine with a powerful roundhouse kick. It shudders under my foot, coming to life with a series of high-pitched screeching noises.

The blond guy says, "You made it angry."

I pale as the light in the vending machine blinks faster and faster. It begins to emit whirring noises that match the speed of the flickering bulbs. It rocks back and forth, hitting the walls next to it. A metallic smell hits my nose, and dread fills me head-to-toe.

To my horror, the vending machine bursts into flames.

The stranger and I scream in shock.

"How is that even possible?" I shriek.

I look over my shoulder; my jaw hits the floor because the damn blond guy is sprinting away. What the actual hell? Is he seriously ditching me?

I swear to God that everybody literally comes out of nowhere as people flood into the hallway. Teachers are shouting at the students to go away while the said students clump together in groups. They hold up their phones and record the mess, and here I am standing dumbly in front of the fiery drink dispenser of hell.

I catch the whispers of the posse of girls near me and freeze as they say to each other, "Can you believe this? Americans are violent delinquents. It's her first day, and she already destroyed school property."

"I'm not a delinquent! This isn't my fault!" I cry, mortification easing its way into me.

One of the girls arches her perfect eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. "Whose fault is it, then?"

My gaze hardens into a glare as I recall the tall guy who hit me in the face. "I don't know his name, but he's an athlete. He's super tall and blond."

Her jaw drops and fury turns her face red. "Kise-sama would never do that!"

"Well, he did!"

"Where's your proof?"

"I don't have any; I was buying a drink, for crying out loud!"

Hatred for 'Kise-sama' boils within me. The halo that used to dangle above his head fades away as horns poke out of his hair. I'm going to find that devilishly handso—EVIL sports guy and make him pay.

"Suzuki-chan."

I swivel towards the voice and immediately want to die upon seeing Kobori Sensei frowning at me.

"Come with me to the office."

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Question of the Chapter

What would you do if a vending machine you were using burst into flames?