A couple songbirds hopped through the branches of a crate myrtle tree outside the window to his right, just starting to bud at this untimely February spring. While the mathematics teacher called Ryuuji-san to stand and solve the equation on the blackboard, The Boy's eyes followed her.
"Ow!" The Boy rubbed his temple and picked up the paper airplane that had hit him. Unfolding it, he read "LOSER!" scrawled messily over it. He sent a glare at Ushio-kun in the desk beside him.
The latter teen leaned and tugged The Boy towards him. "Head out of the clouds, lover-boy. You don't want another detention do you?" The red-haired boy whispered teasingly . "And you should probably know there's rumors going around they're thinking about bringing back corporal punishment here. I say they should - a bruised ass would go great with that shiner on your cheek."
The Boy sat straight back, fuming and turning his face so Ushio-kun couldn't see the black and purple wedding-band welt. The last bit in that jar of ointment the baker gave him he used up yesterday morning. After three weeks free of teasing for his bruises, the feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb was infinitely more infuriating now that he'd tasted normality.
The other boy snickered and whispered louder. "Come on, man, the chicks would dig it! Especially Ria-chan... she'd think it was a real turn on-"
"Shut up!" The Boy crinkled the paper and chucked it at Ushio-kun's face before he could think to stop himself.
"Young man!" Nishioka-sensei shrieked at The Boy, seeing only his outburst and not Ushio-kun's aggravation. "One more peep from you and you're in detention for twice as long this time. Pay attention!"
Ushio-kun stifled his guffaws and finally let off. As the woman continued her lesson The Boy slumped back, wishing he could melt into his chair and disappear.
"Not much longer." Glancing at his wristwatch, "Eight more minutes. Then it's back to collecting..."
In January he almost wanted to hope he could make a new start this year. But so far this year wasn't exactly giving him high hopes going into middle school in two months. His mind constantly went back to the day he met the baker, utterly unsure if he made the right choice, if he should have gone back to the bakery after school that day. Mom definitely would have loved to see him earn his money honestly like that. He felt a lot like he did when he had refused Watanabe-sensei's help. But what did it matter now? Whether he could have trusted her or not, that weird old coot and all her solutions were long gone now; just like Watanabe-sensei.
When the bell finally rang a stampede of children hurried out the entrance doors, spilling into the cool crystal sunshine. Some of them immediately grabbed their bikes and rode home or hopped into their parents' waiting vehicles; but most sprinted to the corner of the crosswalk. Jostled to the back of the mob, The Boy stood on his toes to see what they were all running to. When the bulk of the mass was down the steps, he lingered at the door peering after them. There on the lawn was a little baked goods cart parked under a big umbrella. Behind it was the tiny old lady taking things out of a cooler. His gut went tight, like it held a couple ends of the same magnet to revolt each other.
"It's fine, she senile. She won't remember me."
He stood motionless in the flow of traffic for a little too long.
"Move it, midget!"
Shoma Ushio and another bigger-than-The-Boy classmate raced down the steps shoving him into the metal railing. To his dismay but not surprise, the aged metal bars crumbled like tin foil under his light frame. He didn't get even a second to cuss before he found himself face first in the weeds and bushes that crawled up the side of the building. He tried to jump up before anyone saw but the thorny shrubs had already swallowed him. Snickers arose all around. Of course. Of course he had to take a fall just as the entire school was walking by.
Wincing he waded towards the concrete slab again, snapping branches and twigs in the process. Thorns and twigs stuck him in all the wrong places as he emerged on hands and knees at the foot of the concrete steps after wrestling the remaining metal spikes.
Groups of kids walked out to the scene, all chuckling at him but skipping on towards the sweet smelling pastries. The only ones to stop and acknowledge him were Ria Ryuuji and her friend Nagisa Yamito, the latter of which was snickering and taking a picture of him sprawled at their feet. A forced giggle played on Ryuuji-san's lips but it was more to good-naturedly humor her friends than actual delight at The Boy's expense. He locked eyes with her and wanted to vomit in mortification when she held out a hand to help him up. Jumping to his feet he snatched his skateboard where it had been kicked aside at the student bike lot and sped towards the road without a backwards glance.
Riding along he kept his head hung as he passed the back of the line to the baker's stand. Even if the old lady did recognize him, he wanted nothing to do with her or Ushio-kun or Ryuuji-san or anyone on this campus. He wanted to go home, lock himself in his room, and dwell over what an imbecile he made of himself in front of the same stupid pretty girl that couldn't stop giving him reasons to like her.
He didn't realized his name being called until the whole mob was silent and staring at him.
Throwing on his brakes, he froze. The old lady was waving him over. Not knowing and honestly not caring how she knew his name, he met the old lady's gaze. Looking from her to the crowd of kids watching him and whispering to each other, he glared at her again shaking his head stiffly. He was tired of sticking out like a sore thumb.
The lady just called his name again. "Come here, sweetheart! You're not going to leave an old lady to handle this hungry mob by herself, are you?"
The kids watched him in deathly silence.
Aggravated and already mortifed, he tugged away some thorns still buried in his collar and groin, pushing his way to the front of the line. All eyes on him. Many students grumbled, angrily questioning why he got to skip in line.
Rounding the counter and feeling the glare of his peers hating to be kept waiting, he stepped close to the baker preparing dishes to set out.
"What the hell do you want with me??" he whispered tersely.
"I want you to be my apprentice."
"Find someone else!" he fought to keep his voice low. "I've been teased all day long, people are pointing out my bruises again, and I'm not about to stand here in front of my whole class so they can tease me about hanging around an old prune-face too!"
The woman turned her back to the crowd so they couldn't see her or The Boy's faces. She took his hands in her wrinkled ones, her smile totally immune to his insults.
"Let me give you a piece of advice it took me way too long to pick up on:" she whispered seriously. "Sometimes the things we need the most are the same things we are most terrified of going after. Whether we pursue our needs or stay still affects every day of our lives."
The Boy's scowl softened a bit only to allow a flicker of confusion.
"I believe whole-heartedly that you are the one meant to be my apprentice, whether you accept my spirituality or not." She continued. "Keep rejecting me all you want. But I'll always need an apprentice. And if you let me, I'll always be here to let you know your needs don't have to be so far out of reach either."
The Boy avoided her warm eyes and snatched his hands away. "I'm not some helpless weakling, you know."
Then the old woman gave him a look so nurturing he thought for a second he was talking to his mother again.
"No." she said softly, grabbing an apron off the counter and putting it in his hands, "If you were, they wouldn't be trying so hard to break you."
At those words, the first person that came to mind wasn't Ushio-kun or any of the bullies in his class. With his father's face vivid in his brain, The Boy fingered the apron thoughtfully.
"Ma'am?" he mumbled almost inaudibly. "Did you bring all this out here just to see me because I didn't come back to the shop?"
She nodded, like it was no trouble at all. He chewed the inside of his lip, still avoiding her eyes. While she waited for his answer she picked a leftover leaf from his shaggy hair. Then another and another. She laughed and next thing he knew she was licking her fingers and trying to smooth down his ever-ruffled crop. The Boy heard impatient grumbles from the other side of the cart.
"Okay, quit it!" He jerked his head away from her fingers. "Please..." he begged her to stop embarrassing him, not meaning to sound as desperate as he did.
She followed his erratic glances at the mass of students on the other side of the counter and then sighed. "I understand you don't like being center of attention." She whispered, "But give me one chance today and we'll fix that for you. Okay?"
"..."
"Okay??"
The Boy rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
"Only 'cause she went out of her way..."
The elder chirruped happily and turned to continue unwrapping pastries. Finally she told the kids to form a line and Ushio-kun stepped up first – he'd made sure to push his way to the front of the crowd. The baker took one look at him before leaning close to The Boy's ear.
"I saw you take a dive back there." She said. "Isn't this the kid that pushed you?"
The Boy shrugged and pretended to be focused on tying the apron behind his back. By the time he had it on she had taken Ushio-kun's order and went to package his cakes. The Boy took her cue and stepped up to receive the payment, to which the other scoffed and turned up his nose as he handed it over. Putting the bills into the old lady's zipper pouch at his elbow, he hung his head as Ushio-kun opened his mouth loud enough for all the line to hear.
"So, you're mooching off an old lady now?" he smirked. "You know it's illegal for minors to work, right?"
"Yes, it is." The baker piped up, nudging The Boy out of the way with her hip and tossing the bag of pastries into Ushio-kun's hands. "But it's not illegal if it's between family." She drew The Boy close to her in a side hug. "He's my grandson!"
"I'm not." he grumbled through his teeth.
"And my grandson is one of the hardest workers I've ever met!" she boasted loudly. "I bet none of you guppies are even close to having your first jobs yet, huh?"
She shot The Boy a wink and some of the stress accompanying being face-to-face with Ushio-kun melted. Was she... bragging on him?
"So I'd be careful how you treat my grandson if I were you." she said to Ushio-kun, drawing the swarm's attention to him, "Unless you like your donuts glazed with saliva."
A snorting laugh cracked The Boy's lips and shocked him. He instinctively stifled his amusement but the crowd was bursting with guffaws. Ushio-kun's face turned sour for one shocked moment before taking on a deep red almost as bright as his hair. The more they chuckled the redder he got. For a split second The Boy swore this old baker was an angel in disguise.
Together they kept taking orders and slowly the crowd shrunk. As promised, the baker certainly made sure he was center of attention in a way he'd never known before. A few kids he had seen but never met wanted to chat, eager know what it was like to have your first job at thirteen and how much he got paid. The Boy became both pleasantly and uncomfortably flustered, unable to muster a reply more than "I don't know" and "I guess it's pretty cool."
One of the younger classmen came up and expressed his jealously for The Boy. "You're so lucky..."
The Boy almost laughed out loud at the thought of someone being jealous of him, until he realized the younger boy was being serious.
"I would so love to have a job like this! I could save up for so many video games!" and he turned to the old lady. "Ma'am, please employ me too!"
"Sorry, hun." The lady rejected without a moment's hesitation. "I can only have one apprentice to take my place when I'm gone. When the shop is his, he can decide if he wants to hire new people."
The younger whined but the old woman only politely repeated her rejection. Her affinity for The Boy was exclusive; he didn't know if that should scare or flatter him.
As the line thinned and a few more children asked – sometimes skeptically, sometimes intrigued – about The Boy's internship with his "grandmother," to which her reasons and story of how he earned such a deal kept changing. Sometimes it was because he was an ambitious hard-worker. Other times he was the sweetest, most enjoyable company she could wish for. She even went as far as to claim he was the most talented young cook she'd ever met. Every word of it was a blatant lie, yet she knew what she was doing. Though he scoffed at her far-fetched stories, his starving ego couldn't deny the satisfaction, so much so that he hardly thought about the fact that for the first time ever he was being handed money, putting it into a register instead of taking it out.
When his peers were finally done and gone, he knew his fifteen minutes of fame were over. As he helped her pack the leftovers, her peaceful humming made the silence between them stiffer.
"Ma'am?" he finally spoke.
"I told you to call me Granny."
"You're not my granny." He snapped. "Anyway, I was wondering...you know how you forgave me stealing from you because you said I was just like... badly influenced or something?"
"I said I didn't believe you were half as much of a punk as you thought you were, yes."
"Right, well, I mean... everyone knows that Ushio-kun – the guy that pushed me – is a punk. He's done stuff way worse than me; he just doesn't get in trouble for it. I guess I was just thinking..."
"You were thinking...?"
"It's not important." He said nonchalantly. "It just seems like... like you're favoring me as if I'm special."
"I didn't treat his bad behavior any different than I did yours." she said casually, "If you remember, I swatted you on the head with my fan."
"I do remember." He replied bitterly.
After a pause the lady continued. "So what you're really asking is why I chose you over a kid like him."
"I guess." He mumbled. Their backs were turned to each other as they worked.
"Like I said;" she replied. "I felt a strong calling to you. That's all there is to it."
"Oh."
"But, from your perspective you do have a point." She said. "I could have opened my doors to Ushio-kun just as easily. But here's the big difference between you and him: children who behave badly are not controlled by their misguidance. You're still responsible for making your own decisions and mistakes. The difference between good and bad kids doesn't lie in their actions. It lies between complacency and the desire to do better."
The Boy's hands went still folding some extra brown paper bags. "But I was a stranger. What made you think I wanted to be a good kid? Hell, you still don't know me well enough to say that."
"Don't I?"
"No." he affirmed. "You don't know me at all."
The lady moved to his side and put away some plastic silver-wear. "Then let's just say I'm good at reading people."
He scowled, "So you want to invest your life's work into an apprentice who you feel like is probably not going to cheat you out of your money?"
"Yup."
"...Ma'am, I think you lied to me."
She looked hurt. "When??"
"When you told me you weren't senile."
Her wrinkled face shriveled up as she erupted into a guttural fit of giggles. "Touché."
Commenting on the full register pouch, he asked why she wouldn't consider moving locations, since a back alley isn't exactly the best place for advertising. She didn't seem eager to get into the details of why she stayed in such a poor location. She only said she liked her little shop plenty well enough and pointed out what a conveniently short walk away it was from his apartment, fantasizing that meant it was fate that they were brought together after all. He was starting to figure out there were some questions – such as what her name was – that she would just never give a straight answer for, and he was already getting too tired of trying to figure them out.
"Wait," he scowled, "How do you know my apartment is close to your shop?"
"I know everyone in this town... despite your daddy's efforts to isolate himself." She added with a wink.
The Boy pretended that wasn't a terrifying notion and offered to push the cart back to the shop for her, which she accepted gleefully and graciously.
"I'll have to be sure to throw in a new jar of ointment with your salary today." She said, waddling beside him down the sidewalk.
"My salary?" he asked. "But, it hasn't been an hour yet has it?"
"No. But by the time you help me put everything away and clean up the shop it will be."
"I never said I'd help any further than pushing the cart."
"No. But you will."
"Says who?"
"I have a hunch."
For a beat there was nothing but the sound of traffic and the thin wheels of the cart rattling down the pavement.
"So... what if I come in tomorrow to work?" he muttered.
"You'll get paid." She replied.
"Even if we don't make a lot of money that day?"
"You'll get paid." She said firmly.
"And I don't have to work every day?"
"Like I said, not if it's terribly inconvenient."
Reading his mind, the lady continued very simply after a pause, "If it's someone not allowing you to work for me that you're worried about, then I promise I can be good at keeping secrets."
The Boy gave a curt and solemn nod.
"...Thanks."
To be continued...