Her name is Kanei Miyamoto. Her father is Japanese, while her mother is Cantonese. She kissed her mother and grandmother goodbye, waved, and stepped out of her two-floored house in Kobe, Japan. Walking down the short road to her school, she slightly shifted her black landoseru or, in other words, leather school bag. She glanced at her watch. Three more minutes — if she didn’t make haste, she would be late. Half jogging and half running, Kanei approached the school gates. It was lively, with groups of ecstatic girls and boys scattered everywhere, coming from every direction you can name. Looking around, Kanei shrank down ten inches —it was obvious that everyone here was pure Japanese. I don’t know what to do here, and I have no idea where my class is, she told herself. King-kong-kang-kong, king-kong-king-kong . . . the bells rang. Interesting I thought that bells are supposed to have only one sound that rings for five seconds or so. Kanei entered the building. It appeared like a maze to her . . . and it was her first time to ever go inside the school. She wasn’t accustomed to the Japanese setting of schools. Back where she used to live, her parents couldn’t afford the fees, so she attended a public school taught in English. “Ahem, um, would you please tell me where Mr. Yamanagi’s class is? I think I’m lost,” she randomly chose a tall, dainty girl to ask. The girl’s long hair swung around. “Do you mean Yamanagi sensei?” the girl questioned. ‘Ahem, um, would you please tell me where Mr. Yamanagi’s class is? I think I’m lost” Oh yeah, oops! Kanei forgot that she was supposed to call her teachers sensei, for teacher! “Um, yes!” “Oh, well, I’m going there now. Just follow me.” “Thanks.” “No problem. You’re new here?” “Um, yes.” “What’s your name?” “Kanei Miyamoto. Yours?” “Satsuki Takahara.” Kanei felt somewhat relieved and felt like she had found a friend. All her other classmates were already in the class. “Sit down, class, and we will begin.” There was a robust man standing in front of the class, and Kanei figured that it was Yamanagi sensei. The giggling and gossiping in the class died down. “All right, welcome class to the start of ichigakki, first term. I am your teacher this year. Let’s begin by introducing ourselves to each other. How about we start with you.” Yamanagi sensei pointed at a small boy sitting in a corner. He stood up and walked to the front of the class. “Hi. I’m Kenta Nakamu. My birthday is November 5, 1993, and I was born in Osaka. My hobbies are baseball, soccer, video games, and comics. My dream for the future is to be the next Hideki Matsui.” The class applauded. One by one, the students took turns. Oh no, I don’t want to do this. “Next, please.” Kanei knew it was her turn. “Hello, my name is Kanei Miyamoto. I was born in Shen Zhen, China, on May 17, 1993. I like to draw, play tennis, and sing. Someday, I would like to become a singer in a theater. This is the first time I am living in Japan and going to a real Japanese school, so . . . ” “Ha ha ha. Phugh!” A bunch of boys burst out laughing, and girls whispered behind cupped hands to each other. Satsuki was one of them. Kanei just gazed, bewildered. Did I do anything wrong? ” . . . well, so I hope you will all help me settle here.” Silence. Kanei didn’t know if she should sit or stay She looked at Yamanagi sensei. He seemed to be troubled. “Uh, um, thank you, Kanei. Let’s all help Kanei, right?” Silence. “Right, class?” “Ye-es,” murmured the class. “Kanei,” inquired Yamanagi sensei, “can you read and write? Do you know kanji, the Japanese characters?” Snickers. “Yes, I can, sensei I was tutored every week in Japanese studies.” Kanei felt humiliated. “Oh. Then, good.” The rest of the class continued with the self-introducing, and class started. In no time, it was recess. Kanei hunted for Satsuki, but to no avail. Desisting, she spotted a girls’ washroom and decided to set foot in it. Just when she was about to open the door, it was yanked out of her hands and flung open. “Oh, Satsuki, there you are! I was looking for you, and . . . ” “You were? Well, I’m sor-ry.” Kanei sensed some sarcasm in Satsuki’s tone. Kanei was taken aback. “Well, I was just wondering if we could spend the recess together, since . . .” “Oh, well. I can’t. I’m not going to waste my life caring for a Chinese girl!” With that, Satsuki tossed her hair at Kanei, raised her nose high into the air, and went away. Gee, she sure is in some bad mood. Although feeling much aggrieved, Kanei managed to swallow the pain and went back to class. “Attention, class, attention. I have an important announcement to make. All the shogaku rokunen, primary six students, will be performing a school musical play in two months’ time. If you wish to get one of the main vocal roles, you must attend the audition tomorrow after school, enjoy singing and acting, and be free every day for the next two months.” Sounds perfect for me. Perhaps it’ll help me make some friends here. The following day, Kanei made her way to Nishima sensei’s class, her music teacher. There were about fifteen people for the audition, and Nishima sensei recorded everyone’s names onto a piece of paper in her hands. “Everyone, please take a seat. We will begin soon. Hashimoto sensei, your art teacher, and Otsuka sensei, your principal, along with me, are the judges. We will judge you by having you all sing the song ‘Sukiyaki’ today I will accompany you with the melody on piano. Everyone knows the song, right?” Everyone, including Kanei, nodded. This was one of
July/August 2006
Sailing
The wind caresses my hair As I grasp the tiller, The direction of the sail in my hands. I watch the dazzling turquoise water Splash up against the boat, And glance up at my grandma’s magnificent face. “Am I doing OK?” She answers with a smile and a wink. I feel so good, With the seagulls flying all around me, And the warm summer sunshine Beating on my bare back. I feel so good, With wonder flying all around me And the warm love of my grandma Beating in my soul. Claudia Celovsky,13Bloomfield Hills, Michigan
Moon Child
The night air was crisp and cool upon Jake’s face. Millions of tiny lights filled the sky like a field of fireflies. Like most nights, Jake sat on the old oak stump in the center of the silent woods. But tonight was special; he could feel it, the tension in the air, the stillness of the seemingly nonexistent wildlife. Something was to happen. A warm breeze stirred the trees, their great green leaves shimmering in the moonlight. Jake looked up at the moon, he broke out in a grin and rose to his feet, the air before him shimmered like waves lapping at his bare feet. His ragged jeans hung loosely about his slender frame, his rough crop of midnight-black hair dancing in the breeze, his leather jacket dully reflecting the light from the iridescent moon. It was happening. In the distance a lone wolf released its mournful cry, the forest around seemed to answer. All at once a great clamor arose as out of the trees broke hundreds of birds. Below them on the ground picturesque white-tail deer, along with bears and foxes, ran away from the clearing. As soon as it had begun, it ended, and everything was still once more. They knew it was to happen. In the distance a lone wolf released its mournful cry The aurora of shimmering air encircled Jake, glittering around him like morning dew in the new sun’s light. Jake stood stock still, the grin gone from his face to be replaced by a look of awe, nothing like this had happened before in his lifetime, he knew nothing about what was going on, except that it was part of him, and that it was meant to be. A loud, earsplitting crack broke the silence of the night. Out of nowhere a bluegreen bolt of lightning flew towards the earth at an astounding speed. Jake’s body began to change, the smile had returned as he crouched on the ground. The bolt of lightning struck the ground not an inch before Jake’s face. Fiery multicolored sparks flew, striking Jake all over. It was happening. The ragged jeans and leather jacket fell away, along with the other articles of clothing, no longer necessary on this body of dense black fur. Jake lifted his new ca- nine head and loosed such a howl that the very air seemed to vibrate with its melodious notes. Jake turned, the shimmering air was gone, his time had come, as it now would for the rest of his life. He was a lycan, a demon, a werewolf. Another call answered his, and he trotted off towards the reply. Above him the clouds parted, revealing a full blue moon. The Jake-wolf sat on his haunches, and howled once more at this sign of power. It had happened. Brian Hoover, 12Bend, Oregon Hannah Tyler, 13Grapevine, Texas
