Chapter 6: White Christmas

Chapter 6:
White Christmas

 

ON THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS…I couldn’t sleep, so instead I was hunched over on my bed, cell phone in hand, searching myself for the courage to press the Send button on this email. Exasperated, I swept the hair out of my face and looked up at the clock to check the time. My panic intensified. I couldn’t really afford to wait much longer.

“Looking forward to tomorrow!”

Was it too much? Would Shimamura feel pressured reading it, or think it was weird? These were the concerns that kept my finger firmly aloft…but if I was going to send this email, then I needed to do it before she went to bed. Otherwise, there was no point in sending it at all.

I tapped four or five times in quick succession, none of them quite firm enough to actually press the button. God, what is wrong with me?! I writhed back and forth on my bed, muffling my face in my sheets. I needed to get to bed soon or else I’d end up with bags under my eyes tomorrow, and I did not want that.

Just send it already!

If I sent it, there was a chance I might not regret it, but if I didn’t send it, I would definitely regret it. The choice was easy.

Rolling onto my side, I reached out with one finger and hit the Send button like I was unsubscribing from a newsletter. I pressed down on the screen until I saw the button depress. This was followed by a little paper airplane animation: Message Sent.

Immediately, I put some distance between myself and my phone. Leaning against the wall, I let out a hollow laugh. Then I sprang up off my bed and pretended to be lost in thought about something else. In my mind, it felt like Shimamura would only reply if I wasn’t watching my phone, so I kept my back firmly turned. Go ahead and write me back—see if I care.

I sat down at my desk, opened my textbook, read approximately none of it, and closed it again. Then I put my head on my arms and closed my eyes. My legs jiggled restlessly as a haze descended over my heart and brain—a haze inspired directly by having witnessed Shimamura and Nagafuji hanging out together; a haze of frustration and self-loathing.

I hated the way I always got this sinking feeling in my stomach whenever I was waiting for a reply. I wasn’t even that worried about what she was going to say; if anything, I was more worried that she wouldn’t answer at all, especially since I knew she wasn’t an avid emailer to begin with. Regardless, as I fidgeted with my bangs, I found myself wishing desperately that she would hurry up and write me back already.

Then my phone beeped, and I fell out of my chair.

Scrambling to my feet, I leapt onto my bed and snatched up my phone. Holding it aloft, I rolled onto my back and navigated to Shimamura’s reply. I was so nervous, the room was spinning.

“Yeah.”

That was it. That was her whole reply.

How am I supposed to interpret this? Is it a “heck yeah” kind of yeah, or a “yeah, I bet, you loser” kind of yeah? This is exactly why I hate sending emails. They’re so cryptic.

To be fair, it wasn’t Shimamura’s fault. Regardless of who sent me this “yeah,” I still wouldn’t be able to tell what it was supposed to mean. Text simply didn’t convey the same emotional information a human voice did…and I wanted that information. I wanted to know more about her.

“At least I’ll get to hear her voice tomorrow.”

I was getting way ahead of myself. I wasn’t even at the starting line yet. At least, that’s what I told myself as I climbed under the covers.

A web of feverish heat settled over my skull. Naturally, on the one night I wanted to hurry up and fall asleep so I could fast-forward to tomorrow, my brain was wide awake.

Sometimes I sincerely despise being human.

 

***

 

Thinking back, I’d actually met up with Shimamura here once before, back in October. I’d stayed up all night with insomnia, only to finally start nodding off in the morning, and as a result, I showed up late.

This time around? Well, I wasn’t late, so that was something. I was, however, yawning five times a minute. Plus, I was shivering. I knew I was limited on time this morning, but I decided to take a shower anyway in the hopes that it would wake me up. That was a mistake, however. I didn’t have enough time to dry my hair completely, so I ended up leaving the house with a damp head. In the middle of winter. Yeah. So much for my plans to get extra dressed-up today.

I was the one who chose our meetup spot: the information center inside the mall building. This wasn’t the same mall I bought the tea from, mind you, but this one had its own giant, conspicuous Christmas tree. It would’ve been all too easy to tell her to meet me there, of course, but that was where everyone was meeting up. I went the long way around to sneak a peek in advance, and sure enough, there were a lot of couples. Almost like I’d stumbled upon God’s personal collection. Unfortunately, none of them were same-sex pairs…but maybe that was to be expected. Yeah, probably.

Once again, I became painfully aware of how abnormal our friendship was. Did it make Shimamura uncomfortable? Did she only agree to hang out with me because she felt obligated? Whenever my mind started to wander, I quickly found myself in a negative spiral for some reason. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. I shook the thoughts away.

Anyway, I chose to put some distance between us and the couples mainly so we wouldn’t draw as much attention when we met up…but deep down, I was also kind of hoping a more private setting would make it easier to hold hands. Contradictory, I know. Sometimes it felt like my heart and brain were completely at odds with each other.

As I yawned for the umpteenth time, I thought back to the time we met up in October. Back then, that little blue-haired girl had crashed our date, but today I was crossing my fingers that Shimamura would show up without any additional baggage. It had taken an incredible amount of courage to make today happen, and I did not want to share it with a third party.

I checked the time on my phone. I hadn’t received any other emails since “yeah” last night, which actually came as a relief, since it meant she hadn’t canceled. Our scheduled meetup time of 11 AM was now just five minutes away.

And when I looked up from my phone, I spotted the very girl I was waiting for.

“Oh, she’s here.”

The instant I laid eyes on her, my heart fluttered ever so slightly in my chest. It was Shimamura, alright—on time and without any third wheels, thank god.

She waved at me. Relieved, I waved back.

“Hey there! Were you waiting long?”

“Nah, I just got here.”

“Liar!” she shot back, pointing at me. “I know you’ve been standing here for at least the last five minutes. I saw you!”

Busted. She’d seen right through me. Truth be told, five minutes was a lowball estimate—my actual wait time was closer to fifteen.

Then she broke into a grin, probably enjoying the abject terror on my face. “Relax! I’m joking. Anyway, sorry I took so long.”

She was wearing a jacket with a fur-lined hood over a black flower-print dress and brown boots, and she was carrying her usual bookbag. Her hair was neatly styled, but her roots were starting to show.

Any way you sliced it, this was your average weekend-wear Shimamura—and for some reason, I found it a reassuring sight.

The conversation ended, and we set off together, side by side. A few steps in, however, I was viscerally reminded of the time I’d seen her walking with Nagafuji. By this point it had happened nearly an eternity ago, and yet my mind kept drifting back to it. Ugh. I pressed a hand to my forehead.

Then Shimamura turned to me, and I knew it was probably too late to play it cool, but I hastily forced a smile regardless. A very stiff smile.

“Real quick, I have a question I want to ask.”

“Huh? Wh-what’s up?”

Her preamble had me on edge, but I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say next. A smile played at her lips as her gaze lingered on the clothing concealed under my coat.

“Why are you wearing your China dress?”

“Oh. Right. I get why that might…make you curious.”

Nervously, I tugged the hem down. I had gone out of my way to borrow it from the restaurant where I worked, and although I had it mostly covered with a heavy coat, the edges still peeked out—shiny, bright blue fabric with plum blossoms and bamboo leaves embroidered onto it. Worse, I had paired this eye-catching dress with boring flats. Overall, my outfit was a mess from head to toe, and I couldn’t blame her for commenting on it.

Over the past few days, I had torn myself apart agonizing over what to wear. I even bought new clothes for the occasion, only to decide I hated all of them. But in the end, for some reason, I kept defaulting back to this option. And even if I were to fully comprehend what had led me to this choice, it was too late to turn back.

As I organized my thought process from last night, however, I hit upon one potential reason: because Shimamura had complimented me last time she saw me wearing it. Apparently that was what had tipped the scales… Evidently I trusted Shimamura’s taste more than my own.

“I mean, it’s kinda weird…”

I was already worried about people staring at us, and now this? Kill me now! If she would give me fifteen minutes or so, I could run into the nearest clothing store and buy something else!

Meanwhile, Shimamura scratched her neck lightly. “I mean, people might think you’re some kind of poster girl… Oh, but I don’t mind it, personally. I think it’s cute.”

“Nnn…”

“Must be nice to be so pretty,” she continued in a teasing tone. “I sure wish I could rock that look.”

She probably didn’t mean it, of course, but regardless, I never knew how to react whenever she called me pretty. Still, I knew it would look weird if she saw me blushing about it, so I decided to hide it. How was I going to accomplish this? No idea. I gritted my teeth to keep my cheeks taut, but it most likely didn’t help.

“I mean, you’re, like…way prettier than me, so…”

This was the best reply I could think of. I meant it as a sincere compliment, but it came out sounding like a protest.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Shimamura replied, and right away it was clear she hadn’t taken me seriously.

In the end, all other comments aside, she ultimately approved of my outfit. And if she approved, then that was enough for me. All at once, the lead left my legs, and if I wasn’t careful, I felt like I might just skip off into the sunset. Don’t get hasty, I cautioned myself. The day’s only just getting started.

“So, where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Well, for starters…the second floor,” I replied, and pointed in the direction of the escalators, located behind the information center. Over the past three days spent scoping the place out and putting together an itinerary of events, I had almost completely memorized the mall’s layout.

As we approached the escalators, my gaze drifted to Shimamura’s free hand, hanging idly at her side. The back of her hand looked pale and cold, but her palm looked soft and inviting…

I glanced around like I was about to shoplift something. Then, once I made sure nobody was looking at us, I lunged for her hand at the speed of light. Meanwhile, the rest of my body froze in position, and my vision went white as my cowardly brain tried its best to disconnect itself from what my body had done. As a result, I grabbed her a little too hard, accidentally bending her thumb the wrong way.

“Gah!” she yelped.

Hastily, I adjusted my grip…but the damage was done. Shimamura scowled at me. Oh god, I didn’t give her a sprain, did I?!

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

She wiggled and bent her thumb experimentally, but no pain manifested in her expression, so I took this to mean she was fine…but right as I heaved a sigh of relief, she shot me an angry look, and I shrank away slightly.

Looking back, this was quite possibly my first time making Shimamura mad. After all, she was usually tolerant of all my odd behavior. She was not, however, tolerant of me hurting her. This was perfectly understandable, of course, but…I was terrified of making her hate me. It was the one thing I feared above all else.

As she looked at me, standing there petrified with my shoulders hunched up around my ears, her expression suddenly softened in an unspoken “oh, you.”

Oh, thank God.

Then she took me by the hand and pulled me over by the wall, probably so we wouldn’t block access to the escalator by standing around. The wall was so polished, I could see our reflections, surrounded by fancy stores decked out in all their Christmas finery.

“Look, uh…please don’t snatch my hand like that, okay?”

“Okay. I’m really sorry.” But not sorry enough to let go.

She stared down at our joined hands. Meanwhile, I stared at the floor, terrified to see the look on her face.

“You want to hold hands?”

I nodded. “If that’s cool,” I added. Translation: yes, please.

“Didn’t something like this happen a while back?”

I nodded again. “I think so,” I added. Translation: yep, it sure did.

“Hmmm… Hmmmmmm…”

She began to mull it over. Clearly she knew the significance of the holiday, and now it was giving her pause. Meanwhile, my brain wrestled with itself, debating whether to retract my request and let go. But if I wanted to be special to her, then I wasn’t going to make that happen by doing nothing and staying quiet. My only option was to take action.

My problem, of course, was that I had no way of knowing whether my approach was the right one.

If sending a single email is all it takes to twist me into knots, then maybe holding hands is out of my league, suggested my superego. But it was too late. Even if I pulled my hand away now, it wouldn’t change the fact that I had tried in the first place.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity. My ears were getting cold, as were my bare legs under my coat; I cursed myself for wearing a dress with such a high slit. My only source of warmth was Shimamura’s hand.

Then her fingers slowly curled around mine.

“Eh, sure, why not.”

Something about this reciprocal gesture hit me hard. I looked up at her, my mouth agape. Then, with her free hand, she pointed her index finger directly in my face.

“But next time, I want you to ask first.”

“Guweegh?!” There’s going to be a next time?! She doesn’t mind?!

“What was that? Can humans even make that sound?”

She looked at me, her eyes wide. Ugh, why do I always act so weird around her? It’s gotta be her fault somehow.

“Kinda sounded like you said ‘green’ or something…”

“Will you drop it already?! Look, um…from now on, I’ll ask first. I promise.”

To be honest, it was a lot less stressful not having to ask, so this new requirement was only going to make it harder on me…but on the other hand, it felt like she was implicitly saying “I don’t mind you doing it as long as you let me know in advance,” which came as a huge relief.

The one downside, however, was that it suggested she had no intention of ever initiating it herself. In my mind, we were like two parallel lines, and I was flailing around as hard as I could, trying my best to intersect with hers.

“Good.” She lifted our joined hands. “Trust me, no one else is going to try to steal my hand away.”

She smiled softly, and I blushed furiously. She had a way of dropping these lines like it was no big deal, and it just…ugh, it drove me crazy! It almost felt like she was rubbing my feelings in my face.

But…I wasn’t the only person in Shimamura’s life. There were others. People like Nagafuji. And yeah, that made me want to get a little bit aggressive in my approach. For a moment, I considered explaining this, but thought better of it.

We walked back to the escalator and stepped on. I was immediately glad we didn’t have to climb the stairs manually, because my legs were now so numb from the cold that I wasn’t confident they would work properly. Shimamura stepped onto the stair below mine, but nevertheless continued to hold my hand.

When we walked off, however, I felt like I could sense the opposite-sex couples staring at our joined hands as they passed. Shimamura didn’t really seem to notice or care, but I sure did. My shoulders stiffened. The more attention we drew, the more it hit home that the two of us were holding hands.

My mind went white. We had now made it to the second floor, but…where was I supposed to take her? My mental notes were a total blank, all my painstaking reconnaissance tossed right out the window. Awkwardly, I dragged Shimamura down the walkway.

Now where was it…? Oh! It was right there, to the right of the escalator landing.

“I…I was thinking we could hang out here…if you want,” I stammered.

This was the same amusement center where the three of us had gone bowling. As soon as we stepped inside, the Christmas music playing over the mall speakers was promptly drowned out by an even louder buzz.

“Are we going bowling again?”

“Nah.”

If we went to the bowling alley, I was terrified we’d run into that little blue-haired girl again. Hard pass. Instead, I led her past the ping-pong and pool tables to the loudest part of the facility: the arcade.

We entered to find that the place was practically deserted. So what was causing all the racket, you ask? It was the games—the go-kart track, the electronic bingo cabinet, all beeping and blaring loudly to no one in particular. The coin pusher game was decorated in grinning cartoon characters. The sight made my heart ache, the way it did whenever I thought back to all the characters I fell in love with once upon a time, only to watch them slowly fall into obscurity.

We passed by the coin pusher and walked around behind the bingo cabinet to my chosen destination: an air hockey table near the back of the room. It was a bit outdated compared to the other games, and there was another, newer table next to it that offered a “multi-puck mode,” but I purposely chose the vanilla version.

“How about some air hockey?”

Air hockey had a lot in common with our favorite pastime, ping-pong, so I figured it would be more fun than watching a movie…but now that I thought about it, if we sat still in a dark room for two hours, I’d doze off for sure. I needed to keep my body moving to stay awake.

“Ooh, air hockey. Makes sense.”

Truth be told…I’d only ever played this game maybe once before. “Wanna play?”

“Sure.” She started to take off her jacket, but once the cold air reached her bare shoulders, she shivered and pulled it back on. “Brrrr! On second thought, maybe I’ll keep this on until after I’ve warmed up a bit.”

Then she grabbed the orange…racket, mallet, whatever it is…out of the little basket and walked over to the opposite end of the table. Naturally, this meant she needed to let go of my hand. I knew this was coming, and yet I still found myself disappointed.

This air hockey table cost 200 yen per game, so we each put in a 100-yen coin. The puck popped out, and I put my mallet on it to hold it still. Then the scoreboard reset back to 0-0.

Shimamura chuckled smugly. “Go ahead and serve.”

That’s awfully generous of her… Maybe she’s really good at this game. Taking her up on her offer, I reached out and slid the puck over to my side.

And so our game began, here in this empty arcade. Truth be told, I’d scoped the place out in advance to make sure we’d have some privacy…but I wasn’t about to tell her that, of course.

I decided to test things out with a light serve—and flinched in surprise when the puck suddenly bleeped at me. Since when do the pucks bleep like that?

Naturally, this moment of trepidation didn’t get past Shimamura. There was a pleasant, airy clack as she knocked the puck back at full speed, hoping to take advantage of my delayed reaction. Unfortunately it missed my goal by an inch and bounced back, positioning itself for a return serve. This time, I sent it back hard; it ricocheted off the side and slid right into Shimamura’s goal like I’d planned the whole thing.

“What the…?” she murmured as she leaned down and peered into her goal, her hair bouncing with her movements. Her gaze shifted to her mallet, and she cocked her head pensively. “Weird… This game doesn’t work like I remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“I play this game with my sister sometimes. But we have the Mario one, and I think maybe the setup’s different.”

She tapped the mallet against her forehead. Evidently she was well-versed in air hockey, hence that smug chuckle from earlier.

This time it was her turn to serve. The puck flew out in a straight line. I swung out to send it back, but my mallet failed to connect, instead sliding across empty space. Luckily the puck had missed my goal and bounced back.

Meanwhile, Shimamura stared in surprise at my failed swing—so surprised, in fact, that when I sent the puck back, it slammed right into her goal before she could react. Now I’d scored against her twice in a row. She smiled stiffly.

“I can’t believe you distracted me with that feint. Not bad, Adachi.”

“Heh…yeah…pro strats,” I replied in an attempt at showboating…but it was obvious from my voice that I wasn’t really feeling it. She laughed.

I wish I knew what Hino would do in times like these.

Then again, it’d probably be really weird if I suddenly put on some chipper persona. I wasn’t deluded enough to believe I could pull it off. With a self-deprecating laugh, I hit the puck once more. And as we engrossed ourselves in this halfway-serious game of air hockey, my mind slowly wandered away, leaving my arm to swing on autopilot.

Who was my first crush again? I couldn’t remember, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a girl. Regardless, in a lot of ways Shimamura was “my first.”

Maybe I had simply stopped caring about gender when it came to my interpersonal relationships…but that was my own personal choice. To Shimamura and the rest of the world, gender was still very, very important. I had the sense to recognize that. Likewise, I understood (albeit reluctantly) that I needed to be discreet whenever my behavior defied societal norms.

But while part of me wished the world would change, another part of me was grateful for the series of circumstances that brought the two of us together. If it hadn’t been so hot during the summer…if summer vacation hadn’t lasted as long as it had…if we hadn’t bumped into each other up in the gym loft…if we hadn’t enrolled into the same high school…if we both weren’t so bored of class…then she and I never would have met. But we did. And that meant it was fate.

Behind every new encounter were hundreds, thousands, millions of tiny choices leading up to that moment. One wrong step and our paths never would have crossed.

But thankfully, I made all the right choices…and for that, I would love myself forever.

 

***

 

“You lied to me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t, I swear!”

After six games of air hockey, we moved the party to the Freshness Burger on the first floor, where we grabbed a late lunch. At no point had I planned to choose a fancy restaurant in honor of the holiday or anything like that. It would be awkward to get a table with just the two of us, and if we were splitting the bill, then I’d feel like a jerk dragging Shimamura somewhere expensive.

To be clear, I had money saved up from my part-time job, so I could pay for the entire meal, but knowing Shimamura, she wouldn’t feel comfortable with it. It was the sort of kindness that was only “kind” if both people actively wanted it.

“You totally creamed me,” Shimamura grinned as she nibbled on the French fries that came with her combo meal.

In the end, I won 4-2. But I wasn’t especially skilled; Shimamura was just really bad. Evidently her past experience hadn’t helped much. I wasn’t about to say this out loud, of course.

“You know, it’s not nice to bully a beginner who doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

“I wasn’t bullying you!” I insisted, flailing my hands. But I knew she wasn’t actually mad at me.

“Eh, it was still fun,” she shrugged. “You always beat me at ping-pong, too, now that I think of it.”

“You think so?” I paused to think back, since I hadn’t actually been keeping score.

“On second thought, maybe I had more wins,” she replied jokingly, pretending to mull it over a bit more.

“Hey! Just because I don’t remember doesn’t mean you can make stuff up!”

I pretended to pout, then laughed to myself. Now that we were joking around, my unruly nerves had started to relax. I hadn’t entirely brought them under my control, and I didn’t really know what it was that set them off, but for the time being, all was well. If I had to guess, I’d probably tense up again if I started looking around the restaurant any more than absolutely necessary, but I wasn’t about to test this theory. All I knew was that most of the other tables had opposite-sex couples sitting at them.

You people must really like Christmas, I thought to myself like a hypocrite.

Shimamura sipped her coffee through her straw and glanced out the window at the parking lot. “Feels like it was only yesterday… Four months isn’t really all that long, you know?”

I was inclined to agree. In a way, it felt like we’d never really left the gym loft—I could imagine it clear as day.

“Once we’re second-years… Once spring rolls around, and the weather warms up…do you think you’ll go back up there?” she asked me probingly, gazing deep into my eyes.

To tell the truth, whenever I was up in that loft with her, I felt perfectly at peace. And if I was completely honest with myself, I didn’t want us to fry up there during the summer heat—I wanted us to kick back and relax during the mild spring sunshine.

But that was what I wanted, not what Shimamura wanted.

“Nah, I’ll just go to class,” I told her. “Then after school we can come here and play ping-pong upstairs.”

“You get a gold star,” she replied, smiling in satisfaction as she “graded” my answer. “You’ve turned into such a goody-goody!”

Sad to say, she had misread me. Honestly, I was just taking cues from her.

“Man, we’re gonna be second-years… That means we’ll get assigned to a new homeroom class…” Shimamura mused aloud to herself. She didn’t seem too worried about it, but for me, it was a major crisis.

Starting today, I’m gonna pray to God to put me in the same class as Shimamura again…and in the meantime, I’ll try to brace myself in the event it doesn’t happen.

Not that the two of us talked much during class—or, you know, at all. Still, it was reassuring, having her there within my line of sight.

The two of us were just friends, and yet the thought of Shimamura making other friends behind my back made me sick to my stomach. I hadn’t thought about it until just now, but apparently I was quite the jealous type. Especially since I was still annoyed about the Nagafuji thing. And if we ended up in different classes, Shimamura would start hanging out with other friends more and more… This didn’t anger me so much as frighten me; I was terrified that we would start to drift apart.

We downed the rest of our coffee, then headed out of the restaurant. From there, we returned to the second floor, then sat down at a two-person table near the escalator landing.

Shimamura never did take her jacket off—I guess she never fully warmed up. Now she sat staring into space, idly watching the passersby, her legs stretched out slightly. Every now and then she’d wiggle her feet, and for some reason I found this adorable. There were these fleeting moments in which Shimamura revealed her more childish side, and it captivated me every time.

Then I decided this was as good a time as any, so I took her Christmas gift out from inside my bookbag.

“This is for you, Shimamura.”

I offered her the bag of tea leaves, gift-wrapped in traditional Japanese style. Curiously, she accepted it, then fixed me with a look that said what’s this about?

“It’s…you know…your Christmas present or whatever.”

“Whoaaa.” She stared at it in over-exaggerated surprise. Blinking, she held the bag aloft and peered at it from every angle. “Gosh, thank you! Seriously, I’m really touched.”

She scratched her cheek in a rare display of embarrassment, her expression warm and affectionate, then hugged the tea to her chest. Somehow this reminded me of the time I sat between her legs, and the embarrassment spread to me, too.

“Oh, this is that one blend that smells really good! I’ve been wanting to try it,” she exclaimed, beaming, as she read the label. Evidently Hino was right on the money. “How did you know?”

Oh. Right. Come to think of it, I wasn’t technically supposed to know.

“Was it a lucky guess or something?” she asked.

“…No,” I answered honestly.

She pressed a finger to her forehead and murmured in contemplation as she glanced around, like she was trying to remember something. “I know! Did Hino tell you?”

“Oh, uh…yeah.”

“Look at you, Little Miss Thoughtful,” she teased, playfully stroking my hair. To me, this was the best return gift I could have possibly received.

I leaned against her hand for more, but she quickly pulled away. Darn.

“Who’d have thought we’d both have the same idea, huh?”

“Wait, what?”

“Since you’ve been such a good girl this year, your onee-chan got you a present.”

Shimamura pulled something out of her bookbag…but my excitement at the word present swiftly died once I saw what it was. I froze.

St. Shimamura has some interesting taste in gifts, that’s for sure.

“What is this?”

“A boomerang.”

At first glance I thought it was a broken clothes hanger. Confused, I took the blue, V-shaped object from her… Now what?

“And here’s your protective goggles.”

Next, I took the goggles… Seriously, now what?

“Am I supposed to wear these when I play with it?”

“Yeah. Oh, but just so you know, I tried it out ahead of time to make sure it was actually fun before I gave it to you, and it definitely is.”

“Cool…”

I wasn’t sure what else to say. Not only was I stunned that she gave me a boomerang of all things, I was stunned that she gave me anything at all. I stared down at the boomerang and tried to decide whether I should feel touched.

“I’m really bad at choosing gifts, so I asked Nagafuji to help me…and for some reason, this is what we ended up with. I asked the complete wrong person for advice, huh?”

“Nagafu—oh!”

Then…that explained why I saw them hanging out together at the other mall! Shimamura was going gift shopping for me! Her choice of gift aside, I was honestly flattered—and relieved, now that I knew the truth—and ashamed of myself for getting so jealous in the first place. Sometimes I could be so self-centered.

Staring at the floor, I reached out and put a hand on Shimamura’s shoulder, creating a shaky bridge between us.

“Adachi?” I heard her ask, her tone dubious.

For a moment, I was overcome with the impulse to pull her into a tight hug, just to see what would happen if I reduced our physical distance to zero. Unfortunately, I had a feeling that doing so would only push her away emotionally. So instead I held back.

I could feel my cheeks burning; they were probably bright red. Slowly, I looked up at her.

“Thank you, Shimamura. I love it.”

I knew she wanted me to actually use it, but I planned to take it home and hang it up on my wall as a decoration. Even if—on the off chance—we stopped being friends someday…I would never, ever take it down.

“I’m just glad you like it.”

Truth be told, no, I didn’t like it. But I did like that she gave me a gift at all. Especially on Christmas. That was enough for me.

“Anyways,” Shimamura continued in her usual tone, scratching her cheek, “wanna go outside and throw it around?”

“…What?”

“Oh, I just figured I’d teach you how to throw it.”

“N—”

On reflex I was going to say “No thanks, I’ll pass,” but I couldn’t bear to wipe the smile off her face. Before I could mentally reshuffle the rest of my plans for the day, however, she set off in the direction of the descending escalator. She was 100 percent serious about playing with this stupid boomerang.

At the end of the day, no one could deny that Shimamura was weird in her own way. But it was that weirdness that brought us together, and that made me happy.

Perhaps that interpretation in turn proved that I, too, was every bit as weird.

I hurried after her and reached for her hand.

“Can I?” I blurted quickly. Then, with her blessing, I grabbed it.

This way I’ll stay warm.

 

***

 

On the opposite side of the street across from the mall, next to the driving school, was a little park devoid of visitors—aside from us, of course. It was winter break, so all the little kids were probably at home playing video games. The rusty playground equipment creaked in the winter wind, half-peeled paint fluttering slightly.

I had never visited a park during the winter, not even as a child.

Per Shimamura’s instructions, I took the boomerang out of its bag. Fortunately, by this point my hair had long since dried, and now it billowed in the breeze along with Shimamura’s. I watched as she combed her bangs up out of her face.

“First, you position the boomerang backwards,” Shimamura explained less-than-confidently, like she’d only heard it secondhand. Then my heart skipped a beat as she took my hand and adjusted my grip.

This boomerang was proving pretty useful already.

“You want to throw it vertically—not upwards, but straight ahead.”

Then she stepped away to give me some room, and I wondered idly if I could get away with asking her to come back and explain it all one more time. Probably not.

Belatedly I realized I hadn’t slung my goggles on, but it was too late—I had already made my throw.

The blue boomerang took off toward the equally blue sky. For a split-second it seemed to melt into the atmosphere and vanish from sight, but then it seemed to bounce off an invisible wall and spin back my way, making a loud whirring sound as it approached. I reached out to catch it, but it flew right around behind me, landing by the metal climbing dome. I jogged over, picked it up, and dusted it off.

Is this supposed to be fun?

“It takes some practice,” Shimamura commented like she was suddenly the world’s premier boomerang expert.

“Can you catch this thing?”

“It takes some practice,” she repeated. Sounds like a no.

Was there something wrong with my form or my angle or something?

“I gotta say, it’s pretty surreal to watch a girl in a China dress throw a boomerang,” she continued, and once again I became conscious of my chosen outfit. For a while there I’d forgotten I was wearing my cheongsam at all.

I looked down at myself and discovered that my legs were totally showing through the high slits up the sides. Hastily, I straightened my posture and flung the boomerang to distract from my shame. It followed about the same trajectory as last time, landing behind me once again. I picked it up and stared at it.

Throw, catch, throw, catch. That’s all it was to me. Personally, I would’ve had more fun playing another round of air hockey. Maybe boomerang throwing just wasn’t for me.

“Not having fun?” Shimamura asked me.

“Not really,” I admitted sheepishly. But she didn’t seem all that disappointed.

“Oh well,” she muttered. “Wanna go back inside, and I’ll buy you something else?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” I stammered, gesturing with the boomerang. After all, it still had value to me, though not in the way she intended.

Her eyes followed the boomerang as it waved back and forth in my hand. “All right then,” she shrugged with a tiny satisfied grin, like a proud older sister. “But we should probably go back inside. It’s cold out here.”

At her suggestion, we headed back to the mall…but something inside me was holding me back, almost like it had me in a chokehold. She won’t open up to you once you’re in public again, it warned me. And it was right, of course. No way could I talk to Shimamura about love or romance when we were surrounded by couples…so it’s now or never. I wasn’t prepared, but I’d just have to wing it and try not to stumble over myself.

“Hey, um…”

I took a step forward, and she turned back to look at me. Then I took her hand, palm up, and cradled it between my own, linking our fingers.

She looked at me in confusion, probably because she wasn’t used to someone cherishing her like this. “What’s up?”

The significance of the holiday served as a convenient excuse, egging me on. I moved my finger along the lines of her palm like I was searching for something.

“Hey, that tickles,” she scolded me.

“Sorry. I just…”

…Love you. I love you, Shimamura. I love you.

My throat tightened until I could scarcely breathe. My lips trembled.

“I just want to be your, um…friend.”

This was the most I could manage with my current level of courage, and I was going to have to settle for it.

“You are my friend,” she replied with a baffled smile.

Yeah, I know. But that’s not what I mean.

“I don’t want to be just a regular friend,” I explained. Then I realized the implication of what I said and started screaming internally. My sight blurred.

I knew it wasn’t right to try to measure our friendship, but there was no going back now. I’d just have to try to explain to her what I wanted. I took another step forward.

“I want to be your best friend.”

Promise me you’ll always come back to me, no matter how far you fly.

“My best friend?” she repeated, brow furrowed, like she didn’t quite understand. The longer I looked at her, the more I felt myself getting cold feet, so I decided to blurt it all out and get it over with.

“Yeah, so…uh…whatever I need to do to get there, I’ll do it.”

“Oh…okay,” she replied vaguely. “Hmm.” She frowned.

Then she started to shiver in the cold. She pulled her hood up over her head, probably to keep her ears warm, and for some reason this one tiny (albeit adorable) gesture had me captivated.

“I’m not sure I understand, but…I think it’s good to put in your best effort, so yeah.”

“Yeah.”

She definitely didn’t understand; that much was clear. And yet…as I stared down at the ground, Shimamura reached out and stroked my hair. To grant her easier access, I reflexively crouched down—to the point that our faces nearly touched. Wordlessly, she rested my head against her shoulder.

I reached up and clutched the elbow of her jacket like I never wanted to let her go. Then I closed my eyes and leaned my full weight against her. For a moment, it felt like the boomerang in my hand was carrying us up into the sky. I could still picture it vanishing into the wild blue yonder.

We stood there in silence—two girls alone in a park, embracing, shivering in the cold. It was the perfect moment…to me, at least. Sure, it was no Christmas miracle, but I couldn’t possibly ask for more.

Deep down, all I ever wanted was to spend time with Shimamura on Christmas, and that wish was granted hours ago. Today was already perfect right from the start; the rest of the time was simply spent admiring the view from cloud nine. The air hockey, the coffee, the gifts… These were all small steps on the way back down to reality. Granted, I nearly stumbled over the whole boomerang thing, but for the most part, it all went off without a hitch. The day wasn’t quite over yet, but I was already confident that it would remain a total success, right to the very end.

As Shimamura ran her fingers through my hair, it occurred to me that my mind was too blank to commit this day to memory. Instead, it would be lost to the snowy haze that had settled over my brain.

A white Christmas, indeed.