Less than twenty minutes later, she had showered, shaved her legs, and pulled on a black-and-white striped bikini, fretting over the way she looked in it. Living in Japan and eating Japanese food had made her thinner, which hadn’t necessarily been a goal-she’d liked the way she had looked before-and from the way her top fit, it seemed like her breasts had gotten smaller. She poked and tucked and retied the top and finally gave up worrying about her appearance at all, tying her wet hair back with a rubber band. Then she pulled on a V-neck white shirt and a black cotton skirt and slipped her feet into brown leather sandals.
“Ready!” she announced, stepping into the dining room.
Sakura and Miho were sprawled in their chairs, pretending to have fallen asleep waiting for her. Kara laughed, whopped Sakura in the head, and got them moving. They went out onto the front step, leaving Kara’s father to putter happily around, not worrying about who might see him in his pajamas.
“I’m surprised the guys haven’t arrived yet,” Miho said, still working the English, and doing a fine job of it.
As if summoned, Hachiro and Ren appeared down the street from the grounds of Monju-no-Chie school. The boys ambled along the street, Hachiro carrying a faded beach umbrella over one shoulder, and Ren burdened with what appeared to be a very full picnic basket. They were an odd pair, Hachiro tall and barrel-chested, and Ren short and thin, with almost elfin features and that stylishly ragged bronze-hued hair. Kara assumed it was dyed, despite his claims to the contrary, but apparently the school had different rules if you dyed all of your hair, versus a single streak as Sakura had.
“Good morning!” Ren called in Japanese.
“No, no,” Miho corrected. “Speak English.”
Ren rolled his eyes as he and Hachiro walked up to the house. “Again? Do we have to?”
“We won’t answer you otherwise,” Miho assured him in English, smiling.
Hachiro reached out with his free hand and clasped Kara’s fingers in his. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“Was this your idea?” he whispered-in Japanese-into her ear.
“Not at all,” she replied in the same language. “But I indulge Miho. It makes her happy.”
Hachiro pulled back, gazing into her eyes, and Kara shivered with how good that gaze made her feel. The connection between her and Hachiro had been growing stronger, but it troubled her that they had stopped putting words to it. Mostly, their rapport went unspoken. She believed he felt what she did, but he didn’t talk about it much.
You’re going back to America, she reminded herself. He doesn’t want to make more of it than it can be. The trouble with that thought was that Kara couldn’t turn her heart off, and she didn’t think Hachiro could, either. He seemed to be trying, though, and it hurt her that he’d become so silent about what he was really thinking.
Maybe it’s for the best, she thought.
But it didn’t feel that way.
“All right,” Hachiro said in English, turning to Miho, Sakura, and Ren. “English until lunch. That’s a good compromise, okay?”
Everyone agreed, and moments later, they set off on the trek to Ama-no-Hashidate.
Though young people covered the shores in summertime, Japan wasn’t really known for its beaches. Kara had been to Hawaii with her parents when she was ten years old, and Japan had nothing on the Hawaiian islands. One of the better-known beaches in the country actually imported its sand from Australia. In many other places, the sand was more like fine gravel than the soft stuff Kara was used to from home, and she had heard that a lot of beaches were quite dirty.
But Ama-no-Hashidate was an exception. The spit of land that jutted like a finger out into Miyazu Bay boasted a variety of beauties and uses, not least of which came from the miles of white sand that lined its shore. It was known as one of the most beautiful spots in the country, and that included the beach.
Walking out along the spit, they came in sight of one of the busiest stretches of beach. Couples and some families relaxed under sun tents-the Japanese were far more wary of sun exposure than Kara was used to in America-while teenagers and twentysomethings performed the usual summertime mating rituals. They threw one another into the water, played music too loud, tossed balls back and forth in the surf, and generally lounged around trying to look as cool and toned as possible.
Kara’s friends, on the other hand, paid little attention to such things. Hachiro and Ren were just about the least self-conscious guys she had ever encountered, either at home or in Japan. They wore the big, baggy bathing shorts that most guys their age wore, but there was no evident effort to make their clothes look good. Hachiro stood out among Japanese guys due to his size-a gentle giant-and though Ren was fit enough, that seemed like a natural gift rather than an effort.
The girls, on the other hand, were totally self-aware, and going to the beach with them amused Kara greatly. The world tilted on its axis every time they got into their bathing suits. The normally demure Miho had a stunning body, and a tiny, expensive bikini that she wore because it was the only one that fit her. Still, she seemed marvelously oblivious to the looks she earned. Sakura, on the other hand, lacked Miho’s natural curves, and fidgeted awkwardly any time a guy went by who might be checking them out.
The five friends relaxed on sandy mats, the guys chivalrously giving the shade of the umbrella to Miho and Sakura. Kara put on plenty of sunscreen and lay out, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin.
They all talked-it seemed to be what they did best-chattering about classes, about movies, about everything and nothing, and all in English. At one point, Kara felt Hachiro’s fingers brush hers and she smiled, eyes still closed, as he took her hand. They lay that way on the beach for quite some time.
“Where did you get the umbrella, anyway?” she asked in Japanese. “You live in the dorm.”
Miho admonished her to stick to English.
Hachiro rolled his eyes at Miho, then smiled at Kara. “I have my secrets. I am a mysterious guy.”
She laughed, meaning no harm, and then laughed harder at the hurt look in his eyes. She soothed him by dragging herself over to his side and kissing him, twining together with him on the sand.
The gibes of the others finally drove them apart, but afterward, Kara relished the feeling of where his skin had pressed against hers. After a few minutes, she glanced up and found Hachiro watching her, eyes full of emotion, but he said nothing.
“Time for a swim, I think!” Sakura said, jumping up and kicking sand at Ren and Hachiro.
She tore off down the sand, shrieking happily as they gave chase. Miho and Kara exchanged a smile and rose to follow. Kara had been to the beach half a dozen times this summer, but swimming in the Sea of Japan had not lost its novelty.
Later, as they sat beneath the umbrella eating a picnic lunch of sushi and seaweed-wrapped rice balls called onigiri, Kara found herself in a moment of such pure bliss that she had to catch her breath. The shadows of the spring had truly been dispelled. She still had nightmares, but only of the sort that vanished upon waking.
She hadn’t been so happy in a very long time.
Late Monday afternoon, after their calligraphy club meeting, Kara and Sakura went around the back of the school to the large field that separated the main building from the dormitory. On the far side of the field, toward the dorm, the girls of the soccer club were having a practice, but Kara and Sakura were there to watch Hachiro and the other boys of the baseball club. The soccer girls always seemed so much more serious, whereas the baseball club boys grinned from ear to ear. Nothing made Hachiro smile like playing baseball-not even Kara. He had his Boston Red Sox cap pulled down snugly to shade his eyes, and he waited patiently at second base for anyone to dare hit one past him.