Real World Read online

  “Really? Well, it must have been just around twelve, because I took the 12:05 express.” I looked casual as I said this, and the two of them wrote it all down. I’m glad I didn’t have to lie about that. Facts pile up like this, one after another. They’d find out soon enough that Worm had broken the lock on my bike and stolen it.

  “If anything changes, or you remember anything else, please call this number. We’ll be coming every day, so if you’d like, you can tell us later.”

  The female detective handed me her card, which had rounded edges, and I mumbled a word of thanks. After they left I felt on edge. The phone rang again, and thinking it might be Worm, I answered in a low voice.

  “Toshi-chan—is that you? What’s the matter? You sound upset.”

  The voice was the opposite of Terauchi’s—clear and bouncy. This was my friend who went by the nickname Kirarin. Me, Terauchi, Kirarin, and Yuzan. This was the group I was in throughout junior and senior high. Kirarin’s real name was kind of odd—Kirari Higashiyama—and even though she didn’t like it, we all called her Kirarin. She was cute, cheerful, a well-brought-up, proper young girl. The name Kirarin was perfect for her, and she was the only one in our group who could fit in nicely wherever she went.

  “You lost your cell, didn’t you, Toshi? Last night the guy who picked it up called me.”

  “What time was it?”

  “About ten maybe?” Kirarin said lightly. “I went to a movie and was on the train back when he called. I couldn’t really talk a lot, but it was fun and I ended up talking about all kinds of things. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—the guy’s got a lot of nerve.”

  I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. Kirarin went on. “I told him you need your cell phone and he’s got to give it back. And he’s like, Sorry, I understand, I’ll definitely give it back.”

  “Apologizing to you isn’t going to help. He’s got to tell me he’s sorry.”

  “Totally.”

  Kirarin laughed cheerfully. Come to think of it, she’s the only one of my friends I’ve never felt like killing. It’s like I was always praying that she’d stay as cute as she was and always be the one who smoothed things over among us.

  “But hey—why aren’t you in cram school?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you about that later. I gotta go. I’ve got to ask Yuzan if she got a call, too.”

  “Let’s all get together during summer vacation,” Kirarin said. If Worm had phoned Kirarin he might have called Yuzan, too. Both their names were in my contacts list, so he was just having fun calling them at random. What a jerk. I called Yuzan right away.

  “Yeah, hello…” Yuzan said, her voice low and cautious.

  “It’s me. Toshi.”

  “Hey, Toshi. There wasn’t any caller ID, so I was wondering who it was. I heard you lost your cell phone?”

  “The guy called you?”

  “Yep. I thought it was you, but it was a guy. What a shock. We must have talked for thirty minutes.”

  I didn’t know what to say. What could Worm have talked about for a half hour? And with my friend? It made me really angry—I couldn’t believe that she talked with him that long. This was the guy who killed his mother with a baseball bat! The guy who smashed her against a glass door! Who stole my bike and cell phone and ran away! It gave me the creeps how mellow he seemed about the whole thing. When I’d recovered enough to talk, my voice was sharp.

  “Listen, Yuzan. How could you talk for a half hour with the guy who stole my phone?”

  “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it. But you know, he’s pretty funny. He was telling me all about killing his mother, so I told him I murdered my mom three years ago and he fell for it. Then we talked about exams and life, all kinds of things.”

  “But your mom was sick. That’s why she died.”

  I must have sounded kind of depressed, because what happened to Yuzan’s mother and what Worm did were so very different. Yuzan seemed upset and didn’t say anything. Losing her mom hurt her more than any of us could imagine and we all knew never to bring up the subject. Here I was rubbing salt in her wound. So how could Worm, who killed his own mother, and Yuzan have so much to talk about? I felt like I’d taken on a stupid, even comical role because I knew everything that was going on and I felt so upset by the whole thing. It was so idiotic. I had no idea what to do.

  “I’m really sorry, Yuzan. Anyway, I want him to give me back my bike and cell phone.”

  “Understood. I’m going to see him today, so I’ll get them back.”

  “Where is he? I’ll go with you.”

  “No, I can’t tell you. I promised.” Yuzan clammed up. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I told her everything that had happened since the day before. She listened without saying a word.

  “So what’s the problem?” she said. “It’s not our business. Worm killing his mother has nothing to do with us.”

  “I know,” I said, angry. “I don’t care about that at all. I just want my bike and my phone back.”

  “Okay. I’ll make sure he gives them back.”

  The phone clicked off. As I set it down, all sticky after talking so long, I thought, Damn! I happened to see a headline in the paper: “Housewife Murdered in Broad Daylight.” The article didn’t mention the missing son much, but anybody reading it would see that he was under suspicion: “The son’s bloody shirt was tossed into the laundry basket, and the police are searching for the boy in order to question him about the incident.” The incident? I couldn’t care less about that. I just wanted my bike and phone back. Behind this, though, a thought weighed heavily on me, namely that Worm had talked so much with Kirarin and Yuzan, not me or Terauchi. In other words, he didn’t think either I or Terauchi was worth talking to. I got irritated, realizing that I felt Worm had betrayed me. I mean, who cares about him, anyway?

  The smog alert groaned out again. I was wondering why I didn’t hear that woman’s usual languid announcement, so I looked outside. There were even more reporters than before, all sweating and staring at the house next door. A random thought occurred to me. There aren’t any hidden speakers for the smog alert. They must use a PR truck that drives around and makes the announcements.

  * * *

  That night, around ten, the doorbell rang. Mom had just taken a bath and, thinking it might be the police again, she frowned as she went to the front door.

  “Toshiko, it’s Kiyomi. A little late, don’t you think?”

  “I know, but she’s got something she’s got to tell me.”

  “It’s hot out, so have her come inside.”

  Mom was taking out some cold barley tea from the fridge as she said this, a dubious look on her face. Dad was still out late, as always. One day after the shocking murder and he was back to his old routine. I went outside and was hit by the stifling, muggy air. I could feel the moisture on my AC-cooled skin grow sticky. There weren’t any reporters now, and the road was deserted. Yuzan was standing in front of our gate, holding my bike. She had on a T-shirt and Adidas shorts, Nike sandals and a backpack. If you saw her from far away you might take her for a short high school boy. She was huffing and puffing so much she must have ridden all the way here.

  “Sorry to come so late,” she said, out of breath.

  “It’s okay. Thanks for bringing it.”

  I put the bike inside our gate. As I did, my arm rubbed against Yuzan’s bare arm. Her arm was all sweaty. Startled, I pulled away and our eyes met.

  “Is that the guy’s house over there?” Yuzan motioned with her chin. Worm’s house was dark and still. Until last night the place had been crawling with investigators, but now it was deserted, like a discarded, empty shell.

  “Yeah, that’s it. I think his room’s on the corner there, on the second floor.”

  I pointed to the pitch-black window. Yuzan gazed at it for a while, then sighed and looked away.

  “Yuzan, where did you guys meet up?”

  “In Tachikawa. It sure was a long way to come here.�