Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [45]
“What do you think they were talking about?” Wataru muttered, half to himself.
“Maybe they were talking about the ghost in that photo,” Katchan replied.
Wataru spun around so fast that he startled Katchan into jumping a few feet back. “What photo? The one he took at Mihashi Shrine?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why would Kenji care about something like that?”
“Hadn’t you heard? Oh, right, you’ve been too busy daydreaming about summer vacation.”
Katchan told him how Kenji wanted the photograph Mitsuru had taken, and had been pestering him about it. “Ishioka wants to take it to the TV station so he can get on that show.”
So that’s why he wants Mitsuru’s photograph so badly.
“Pretty lame, huh? It’s classic Kenji Ishioka, though.”
It was lame. Wataru couldn’t understand why someone would want to be on TV so badly that he would try to use somebody else’s story like that.
“Why doesn’t he just give him the picture?” Wataru said, disgusted. “Better than getting picked on.” He recalled his run-in with Mitsuru at the Mihashi Shrine. The memory was so vivid that, like a fresh scab, he was sure it would start to bleed if he picked at it. He shuddered, recalling the look of sheer contempt Mitsuru had given him. “He doesn’t believe the picture’s real, anyway.”
Wataru was getting angry again. Katchan gave him a perplexed look. Finally, he scratched the side of his head and muttered, “Well, why don’t you tell him to do that? You’re with him at cram school, aren’t you?”
“I’m not with him!”
Katchan blinked. “What’s your problem?”
“You just won’t shut up. Why do I always have to explain everything to you? Not like you even understand. Are you stupid or something?”
Wataru knew that it was wrong to take his frustrations out on Katchan like that, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. He started off down the hallway. His friend hesitantly started to follow, but Wataru just walked faster.
“You going home?” Katchan shouted after him. “See ya!”
Wataru continued to walk. By the time he was off campus and well on his way home he calmed down enough to realize how mean and selfish he had been. Oh well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. All he could do was plod home alone.
That evening Uncle Lou called just as he was finishing dinner. Kuniko, who was clearing the dishes from the table, flinched when the phone rang and glared at it over her shoulder. When Wataru made a move to pick up the phone, she stopped him.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it.” She tentatively lifted the receiver, but as soon as she heard who it was, her icy expression thawed. “Wataru, your uncle wants to speak with you.”
Wataru’s conscience had been bothering him ever since the scene at the library. His head was spinning with thoughts about how he should apologize to Katchan tomorrow, and what he would say, and whether Katchan would be too mad to forgive him. Dinner had tasted like paste in his mouth. He wished there was someone else he could talk to about Mitsuru and everything else. When the phone rang, he knew his prayers had been answered. Uncle Lou!
“Hello? Wataru speaking.”
“Hey!” said his uncle. “Have you had your dinner? What did you have? Hamburgers? Spaghetti? Some of your ma’s meat’n’cabbage rolls? Wow, now I’m getting hungry.”
Phone calls from Uncle Lou always started this way. Hamburgers, spaghetti, and cabbage rolls—in tomato sauce, not cream—were his favorite foods.
“Hey, Uncle Lou…” Wataru began, but then felt his throat start to tighten, and tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. That was a surprise. He didn’t realize he was so worked up about things. “I…”
“Actually,” his uncle went on, oblivious to Wataru’s predicament, “to tell you the truth, I’m calling because I wanted your advice about something.”
Another surprise.
“An old friend of mine got married—he’s living out there by you now. Here’s the deal: his kid was recently in an accident and is in the hospital.” His uncle explained that the boy—a local fourth-grader—was going to make a full recovery, but he had broken his right thighbone, and so would have to be in