First Contact Page 2

  Gina pointed towards a group of girls dressed in black and white school uniforms.

  “Setsuko, go over and ask them where the Heavenly Burger is.”

  With the aid of a giant shove from Gina, Setsuko reluctantly approached the girls and started talking. They began to giggle and point up the street.

  Setsuko returned with a smile of victory. “I’m happy to report the Heavenly B is just ahead. By the way, the locals call it Hebenery Burugero. That’s Janglish.”

  I let out a sigh. “Terrific. Not only do I need to learn Japanese, now I have to learn Janglish too?”

  Gina pointed across the street. “There it is!”

  In two minutes, the golden halo hung above my head. I opened the door and a whooshing sound breezed past as the cool air rushed over me. Air-conditioning…what a wonderful invention. I shivered, as the air grew even colder. Boy they had the AC cranked. Then I heard someone whisper in my ear, “Yamete.” I spun around to catch a glimpse of who was talking to me, only to find no one. Weird. Was Setsuko playing a trick on me? Nope. She stood at the counter and rattled off our orders while Gina looked for an empty table. I shook off the creepy feeling of my invisible person encounter. The heat had to be to blame. That or number seven on the list had my imagination in hyper drive.

  To distract myself, I gazed around the restaurant. There was a big Plexiglas staircase running up the center of the restaurant. This Heavenly Burger had a second floor. Unlike the single-story restaurants back in Idaho, space was at a premium in Tokyo. Gina waved at me from the second floor and I trudged upstairs to join her. I never felt farther from home as I stood in the eerily familiar yellow and blue decorated room and stared down through an enormous window at the people below. Everyone, from mothers pushing high tech strollers, to Goth punk rockers, to women in ceremonial kimonos, scrambled off to parts unknown. Tokyo was a lot bigger and more intimidating than I ever imagined. No wonder I was hearing voices. I had a severe case of brain overload.

  The sight of Setsuko broke my mood. Our orders were piled so high on the tray she was barely visible. She quickly handed them out like playing cards. “Here, guys. Dig in.”

  A cool breeze whipped past my face reminding me of what happened when I first entered the restaurant. “Setsuko, what does ‘yamete’ mean?”

  She tossed a fry in her mouth before responding. “Why do you ask?”

  “Someone said it to me…I think.”

  Gina chimed in. “Oh, really? It means ‘stop it’. Did you step on someone’s foot or something?”

  I gave her a weak laugh realizing it was a ghost I ticked it off. “That must have been it.”

  Better change the subject before I freak myself out. I stared down at the red box and sighed. What could be more American, more like home than a Heaven Burger Delux? I tore off the wrapper and took a bite. “Yuck.”

  Gina laughed as she opened her Joyful Meal. “You look like you’ve just eaten a bug.”

  “Maybe. Something tastes funny.” I lifted the bun. They’d slathered the burger in pink gelatinous goo instead of American secret sauce. I suddenly realized my host family might be serving more than teriyaki chicken and a bowl of steamed rice at tonight’s dinner.

  “Hey, guys, have you wondered what your families are going to be like?”

  Gina popped a fry in her mouth. “Hmm. I haven’t been concerned.” Then she dug deep into her box and pulled out a tiny princess figure. “Score!”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “How can you get excited about a stupid toy and not be worried about living with a bunch of total strangers? Ever since I got on the plane, I’ve been trying to convince myself they’ll be the sitcom version of the perfect Japanese family.”

  Setsuko smirked. “I know that’s who I’m getting. They’ll live close enough to campus so I can walk to school and have a gorgeous son who instantly falls in love with me.”

  Gina waved a fry at her. “Sounds like you’ll be living in your version of the Japanese soap opera ‘As the Sun Rises.’”

  Scraping the offensive secret sauce from my hamburger bun, a big pink blob dripped onto my jeans pocket. I pulled out the list and put it on the table. The ink smeared across the page as I reached for a napkin. “Darn. Tori’s list is ruined.”

  Gina stopped eating her baby-sized cheeseburger. “What the heck are you talking about?”

  “It’s a long story.” I needed to change the subject fast. “Look at that hot guy over there.”

  Setsuko wrinkled her forehead. “Tori? Is she a student at the academy?”

  I finished cleaning up the list. Maybe they’d forget about the whole thing. “His friend is pretty cute too.”

  “Nice try. Answer my question.”

  No use trying to dodge a determined cheerleader. “She’s my best friend and the reason I’m here in the first place. She wanted to win the scholarship, but she dared me to enter the contest and now here I am.”

  Gina looked confused. “So, there was only one slot open at your school? That sucks.”

  Setsuko scrunched up her face. “You stole the scholarship from your best friend?”

  I let out a sigh. The girls must think I’m a total loser for backstabbing my friend. I thought the list was the worst of my punishments. “No, I tried to refuse, but the next day my face was plastered on the front page of the local paper. The school said it would embarrass them if I turned the scholarship down.”

  Setsuko’s eyes narrowed. “And your friend bought that excuse?”

  Gina took the sauce-stained paper from my hand. “Wow, Tori sure was planning on having a good time. If you find a rock star boyfriend, see if he has a brother.”

  I didn’t laugh. “I’m not concerned about finding a boyfriend, I’m worried about number eight.”

  Setsuko grabbed the list and read it aloud. “’Visit my relatives and search for

  anything interesting hidden in the family closet.’ Ouch, that’ll be tough. You can’t even speak Japanese.”

  I gave Setsuko an encouraging smile. “So, does that mean you’re volunteering to help?”

  Gina took the list from Setsuko. “I can think of a much better way to learn the language.”

  Setsuko’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m sure I’d be an excellent teacher.”

  Gina gave me a wink. “Not as good as a Japanese boyfriend.”

  I gulped down my Sprite and held up my hand to give Gina a high five. Her hand smacked the side of my cup, spilling what was left of my drink down the front of my shirt. I jumped up and frantically dabbed at the material, another wet T-shirt contest in my future. Before I could make a run for the bathroom, a sharp pain grew from my belly button and moved up into my esophagus, exploding out of my mouth in a loud, long burp that would have put any drunken boy to shame.

  The sound reverberated around the room. Everyone sitting in our section stopped eating and stared. A guy stood and aimed his cell phone right at me. My face grew hot.

  Gina patted me on the back. “I think that even beats out my brother.”

  The girls sitting next to us giggled with their hands covering their mouths as I sunk behind Gina.

  Setsuko seemed to relish my humiliating situation. “Impressive. But burping to show your appreciation of a meal is an Arab tradition.”

  Gina rolled her eyes. “Give her a break. She just swallowed wrong.”

  I stared in disbelief when the guy with the cell phone moved closer.

  Panicked, I threw my hair over the front of my shirt like Lady Godiva.

  Watching Gina swing into action was a thing of beauty. She lunged forward and gave the guy a swift karate kick to the knee. The phone guy limped like a girl back to his friends.

  I grabbed my backpack and covered my shirt. “Think that’s my cue to head back to the gym to clean up.”

  Gina gave me a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’d hoped I left my clumsiness back in Idaho. Thanks for coming to my rescue and for lunch. I’ll see you guy
s back at the academy.”

  The grin on Setsuko’s face as she waved good-bye said it all. She’s gone—finally.

  I trudged down the stairs wondering what was wrong with me. I knew better than to get between friends. Still, I really liked Gina and if I could manage to win over Setsuko, perhaps the friendship could work out. Maybe Tori put number two on the list for a reason. Tori and I had been together since kindergarten. I’d never been without a best friend before.

  Surrounded by the rapid-fire noise of Japanese chatter, I hurried up the street and crossed my fingers I could remember how to get back to campus. My hopes quickly faded when I couldn’t find a single landmark. Only one thing would make me feel better—my Meiji bar. I reached into the zippered compartment of my backpack and was rewarded by a handful of oozing chocolate and an empty foil wrapper. Guess they didn’t call Japan the Land of the Blazing Sun for nothing.

  I tried to clean off my hand when a throng of people pushed me farther down the street. My luck continued to fail me until I recognized the bell tower of the academy peeking out from behind a giant Nissin Cup of Noodle sign. To break free of the crowd, I grabbed onto the nearest bike stand and held tight until I could sneak down a side street. The academy should have put body armor on our what-to-pack list. I knew Tokyo had millions of residents, but never really understood what that meant until I became one of them.

  Safely back at the gym, I couldn’t help but think of the person who brought me to the Land of the Rising Sun. Even though I had the best intentions accepting Tori’s dare, once I entered the contest, my competitive streak kicked in and my fate had been sealed. I looked down at the sauce-stained list. I knew in my heart I had to complete everything she wanted. Tori would never let me get away with anything less. Like she always said, “Payback’s a bitch.”

  Suddenly a loud crackling sound blasted through the intercom. “Attention please.”

  Now what?

  “Will Erin Van Horn please come to the security office—immediately!

  Chapter 2

  Who Stole My Dream Family?

  September 3, 4:00 PM

  The security office blazed with enough illumination to cause temporary blindness. Squinting, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light. A handsome stranger in his twenties dressed in a button-down shirt and pleated trousers walked towards me. In a pleasant Japanese accent, he said, “Are you Erin?”

  How did he know my name? “Uh, yes…and you?”

  He laughed and held out his hand. “No worry. I am not the police.”

  I gave his hand a firm shake. “Good.”

  He must be my host brother. The moment I’d been dreading ever since I set foot in Japan had arrived. I stood face-to-face with the complete stranger I’d be living with for the next year. I breathed in the scent of his woodsy cologne and admired his high cheekbones. My host brother was hot in a preppy kind of way. “Are you Hiroshi?”

  Shifting on oxford-clad feet, the stranger said, “No. He is out in the car. His English is not very good, so he asked me to greet you. My name is Fudo.”

  Well, at least my host brother had good taste in friends.

  A form materialized in my hand as the woman from the academy staff said, “Please go get your bags. Sign and return the papers before you leave.”

  Gathering my things, I grabbed my trusty Japanese handbook. I was sad to see Setsuko and Gina hadn’t returned from the golden arches. Would they be surprised to see me gone? They’d probably think I got lost again.

  Loaded down with my bags, I trudged back to the office, I signed the form and put it on the security woman’s desk. Fudo was all smiles as he took my roller bag and led me to the car. I was instantly impressed when he opened the trunk of a silver blue BMW coupe.

  “Nice car. Is it yours?”

  He nodded. “Yes. A birthday gift.”

  Wow, his parents must be loaded. Imported cars had to be a luxury in Japan when he lived in the land of Honda and Toyota.

  Fudo pointed to the guy in the passenger seat. “This is Hiroshi.”

  I knew from my paperwork that Hiroshi was nineteen and in his first year of college. From what I could see through a thin film of smoke, he wasn’t nearly as cute as Fudo. Even through the smoke, his ridiculous sideburns barely covered a major acne problem. I smiled. Fudo opened the back door and the smoke cleared enough for me to see my host brother. He sat clad in a white vinyl sequined jumpsuit with “King” embroidered across the front.

  “American girl no tan?’’ the vision in white plastic asked.

  I wasn’t expecting such a sarcastic question from a guy in a costume. Staring at the porcelain skin on my arms, the result of hours spent indoors painting, I could give a vampire competition. Goose bumps formed on my arms. The safety of my home studio was now over five thousand miles away.

  Fudo held the door open until I slipped in. I leaned back to avoid Hiroshi’s slick black pompadour. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “You will like where Hiroshi lives out in the country.”

  Great. How long of a commute would I have to school? Sitting back in the seat, I tried to enjoy my first air-conditioning since Heavenly Burger. The car sped through the streets and I quickly learned Tokyo wouldn’t win the most beautiful city in the world contest with it’s mass of buildings packed so tightly together you could see only a hint of light peeking between them. Yet, in the early evening light, the buildings took on a pleasant glow from the brightly colored neon advertising that covered every inch of available space. It reminded me of New York City dressed up for a costume ball.

  Hiroshi leaned over, puffing smoke in my face. “Y’all like ride?”

  I had to stuff back a laugh. Not only did Hiroshi look like Elvis, but he was trying to sound like him, too.

  “Yeah, its great.” I would have liked it better without a smoke-filled car. Why did Hiroshi have to one of the thirty percent of men that still smoke in Japan?

  Fudo and Hiroshi began arguing back and forth.

  “Watakshi no rusai.”

  “Usioni!”

  “Dame tomodaichi.”

  Hanging around Tori’s parents, I was used to hearing Japanese. I wished I’d worked harder to learn what they were saying. Of course, I had my five-word vocabulary. Back in Idaho that seemed like plenty. Now—not so much.

  As if he could read my mind, Fudo said in English, “You like to drive fast?”

  Before I could answer, he stomped on the gas and we rocketed forward, the tires squealing as he changed lanes. Visions of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland flashed through my head.

  Fudo leaned back in his seat. “Soon we will be where I can go very fast and no police.”

  Thanks to Fudo’s love of speed, I’d meet the rest of my host family in record time. As I watched the speedometer move higher, I bit my nails hoping I’d get to my new home in one piece. A shiver worked its way down my spine. I’d never lived with anyone but my family. Well, except a few times when I visited my grandparents in New York. What if I had to share a room like I did with my cousin one summer? A fate far worse than gym class.

  The landscape began to shift into large sections of greenery broken up by buildings that actually had some breathing room between them. I craned my neck to get a better view of the scenery. It would be a lot easier if they drove slower—not like they were flying a supersonic jet.

  Fudo and Hiroshi talked back and forth in rapid-fire Japanese.

  “Ima ikimasho.”

  “Batakatardi otoko.”

  “Ona totemo oki mune.”

  Would I ever be able to speak the language as fast?

  Fudo leaned towards me, ignoring the road. “Do you have boyfriend?”

  The truth was just too boring. My portrait series kept me chained to my easel. I barely had time to hang out with my friends, let alone a boyfriend. I didn’t want to sound like a loser so I decided a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. I made sure Fudo’s eyes were on the road then leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I bro
ke up with my boyfriend because he didn’t want me to go to Japan.”

  He stared at me in the rearview mirror. “That is sad. You like Japan so much you leave boyfriend?”

  I leaned back in my seat. Why not invent a soap opera? “Yes. I only had one chance to come, and if my boyfriend didn’t understand, then I knew he really didn’t care about me.”

  Fudo nodded his head. “I understand. My girlfriend never let me go to America. She miss me too much.”

  I was envious of his relationship. Maybe I could find someone in Japan who would care that much for me.

  Hiroshi leaned over in his seat and declared, “I like party, mahjong all day, no sleep. What y’all like?”

  This should be fun. I was going to be living with an Elvis impersonator mahjong addict insomniac.

  Before I could say anything, he shouted out, “My house soon. Y’all meet family.”

  My blood pressure began to rise as we sped by rows of neat two-story houses with brown tile roofs on large tree-filled lots. Even Hiroshi’s funny southern accent couldn’t keep me from biting my nails as we turned the corner. Were we close to the Moris’ house? The map the academy gave me showed the family lived on Ginko Road. I looked up at the chicken scratch lettering on the street sign. It could say welcome to hell for all I knew.

  The guys were all smiles as we pulled into the driveway. My host family stood outside a large two-story house. Hiroshi must have given them a heads-up text message. He got out of the car and strode with pride towards his family. Stepping out of the car, I put on my best beauty pageant smile. Fudo came over to help with my bags as I stood outside and breathed deeply.

  A pretty girl shoved Elvis out of the way. About my age, she wore a school uniform, topped off with a cute bob haircut. “Welcome, my name is Aki. This is Otosan, my father, and Okasan, my mother.” Aki came over and took my hand. “I am happy to meet you. Your room will be next to mine.”

  Hooray! Someone in the family spoke perfect English.