Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
A shiver rattles me at the way he’s watching me with an intent that could break stones. His gaze is sharper than that of the other one, who has a round face and a bland stare.
I inch closer to Mom so we’re both facing them and whisper, “Who are these people?”
“No one you should worry about,” she says in English, then switches to Japanese. “Leave right now or I’ll call 911.”
“If you could, you would’ve done that already,” the short one replies in the same language.
“I’ll call them if you don’t leave us in peace,” I say in Japanese while I point my phone at them as if it’s some sort of a weapon.
The taller man smiles, but it’s predatory at best. Or maybe it’s amused. I’m not sure which way to read the glint in his eyes.
He offers me his hand. “My name is Ren. Pleased to meet you, Hito—”
Mom steps in front of me like a mama bear ready to cut a bitch down. Her words are growly and deep. “Leave. Now.”
“You’re making a grave mistake,” the shorter one tells her.
The tall one, Ren, peers over Mom, which isn’t hard since she’s short, and smiles at me. The feeling of being targeted hits me again. “We’ll meet again…Naomi-san.”
Mom looks ready to grab a bat—or better yet, her gun—and shoot them down, but they bow, perfectly demonstrating Japanese manners, and then waltz out the door.
Neither Mom nor I bow back, which is considered rude. Our feet remain caged in place as we watch the front door until their car, a black van, leaves the property.
Wait.
A black van?
Images of the van that followed me a few weeks ago slip back in my mind, but I quickly shoo them away. I’m making up stories again and that’s never a good thing.
Mom’s posture relaxes a little, but she doesn’t lose the sharp look in her dark eyes or stop breathing harshly through her teeth.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her beside herself since the red night. She has always acted cool and collected, and I actually started to doubt if she has a heart or if it was replaced by ice at some point.
“Who were those men, Mom?”
“No one.”
“They were clearly someone. Are they from your past?”
Her gaze snaps in my direction and her pupils are so dilated, it’s like she’s on drugs. “Why are you saying that?”
“They called you by your old last name.”
“Right. That.”
“What other reason would there be for me saying that?”
“It’s nothing.”
“There’s obviously something going on. Why did Ren say ‘pleased to meet you, Hito’? Do I have another name?”
She purses her lips. “Your only name is Naomi Chester. That’s all you need to know. And erase that motherfucker’s name from your memories. You didn’t meet a Ren.”
“But—”
“Go to school, Nao. You’ll be late.”
I want to argue and be mad. I want to demand being in the know about things happening in both our lives, but the weary look on her face stops me. Dark circles line the bags under her eyes and her face is a pale shade of white.
It’s been that way for a few weeks now. Is she even sleeping properly?
I should get her one of those sleep aids from the pharmacy later.
While I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, I also can’t pretend as if nothing happened. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom. I can sense when things are wrong, no matter how well you hide it. So instead of keeping me in the dark, how about you just…talk to me?”
Her expression softens a little, her voice softer, lower. “How about you?”
“Me?”
“Will you talk to me, Nao-chan?”
“About what?”
“About why you no longer look me in the eyes for more than a second and how you don’t kiss me goodnight anymore.”
“I’m not a little girl.”
“I can see that.” She smiles a little. “You even have a boyfriend.”
“Sebastian isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Is that why you make out when you think I’m not looking?”
My cheeks flame as images of what we did rush back in. “You saw that?”
She nods. “He looks like a good kisser.”
“Mom!”
“Fine…fine. I won’t tease you about your first boyfriend.”
“I had Barry from middle school.”
“The one you dumped because he didn’t like anime and manga?”
“Barry made fun of me for reading manga.”
“Sebastian doesn’t?”
“No.” I kick an imaginary rock. “He…even thinks my sketches are cool.”
“That’s because he has a good eye.”
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly, lowering my head as I make my way to the door.
“Nao-chan?” she calls after me in an affectionate tone that she hasn’t used since I was young.
I stare at her over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Come home early. I need to tell you something.”
I pause at the vulnerability in her voice and the way she grabs the cigarette pack and fingers it, but then I whisper, “Okay.”
I’ve been wanting her to talk to me for a long time, but why do I have a feeling that this might not be what I bargained for?