She smacked the back of my head. “Don’t make jokes with me, Hiroku Hayashi. You are in big trouble. Piercings were not part of our agreement.”
I argued my case—growing up Japanese, wanting my independence, no one is a saint (except for her) and finally, the outcast card of just wanting to fit in, which wasn’t a lie. She knew making friends had never been easy for me and that I’d often been at the receiving end of low-key racism. It was worse for me than it ever had been for her—I never knew why. Maybe it was because I was a sensitive, shy boy. Or maybe it was because of my smart mouth and general contempt for bullies. Finally, Mai retracted her threat to tell my parents, and I thought that would be the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
We were eating dinner around the table the next night when Mai made her move.
“Hiroku, can your friends give me a ride to school tomorrow morning?”
I set down my fork and glared at her from across the table. Mai had her own car, and there was nothing wrong with it. The reason I didn’t ride with her to school was because she was always occupied with clubs and extra classes after school, and I didn’t want to wait around for her to finish.
“I thought you were riding your bike,” Mom said.
“Who are these friends?” Dad asked. “Freshmen can’t drive to school.”
Mai stared at me, awaiting my response.
“Just some friends from band,” I told them. They weren’t in the school band, but they had been in a band and probably would be again at some point in the future.
“Seniors, aren’t they?” Mai asked with an innocent tilt of her head.
“Seniors?” Dad said. “What are seniors doing giving a freshman a ride to school?”
“They live in the neighborhood. It’s like a carpool, you know? Minimizing our carbon footprint. I give them money for gas; they give me a ride. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”
It was too late. Dad was suspicious.
“I’d like to meet these friends of yours,” he said.
“Dad. Come on. Don’t be embarrassing.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“If you want to ride to school with these strangers—”
“They’re not strangers,” I interrupted.
“They’re strangers to me,” he said sternly. “And if you plan to keep getting rides from them, I want to meet them. Who knows if they even have their drivers’ licenses? Did you ask to see them?”
I groaned and shook my head. I glanced up to see if Mai was happy with herself, but she didn’t look smug. She looked concerned.
“I’ll go in a little late tomorrow morning,” Dad said, sealing his commitment. “I can meet your friends then.”
After dinner, I was helping my mom clean up when she laid a hand on my arm and said sweetly, “You know we trust you, Hiroku. It’sthemwe don’t trust.” She motioned to the window and darkening twilight outside, the lair of the boogieman who kidnapped innocent teen boys from their mothers’ clutches and turned them into pierced and dangerous men. My mother wouldn’t like Seth. Somehow, I just knew it.
Seth and Mitchell didn’t have a lot of warning, but when they showed up the next morning to take me to school—early, I might add—they looked so wholesome, I almost didn’t recognize them. They each had button-down shirts tucked into their Dockers, which were pulled up to their waists and wornwithbelts. All of their tattoos were hidden, including Seth’s infinity sign, which he’d covered with a big ugly watch I’d never seen before. Mitchell’s hair was slicked back, and Seth had taken out all of his piercings, except for his most recent, which was covered by his hair. He was even wearing thick, black glasses, which I presumed was for the Buddy Holly effect because Seth couldn’t resist being cheeky. The two of them looked like extras inLeave It to Beaver.
Not only was their look blowing me away, but their manners… Seth was all “yes, sir” and “no, sir” when Dad asked if they had their licenses and insurance and whether they’d ever gotten into an accident. Dad looked slightly bewildered by it all, but he didn’t associate much with teens other than Mai and me to know that Mitchell and Seth were putting him on. Finally, after a few more questions about their grades and families, I was able to leave with them. Mitchell pulled out of the driveway slower than a little old lady and gave a friendly little nod and wave at the end of the driveway. Seth was whistling. Only when they turned the corner did the two of them dissolve into a howling fit of laughter.
“That was insane,” I told them, stunned that it worked and flattered that Seth took the time and attention to properly hoodwink my father. Seth was unbuttoning his plaid shirt as fast as he could. Underneath was a band shirt. He tossed that and his belt into the back seat and then went the glasses. I tried them on. Costume lenses, just as I’d suspected.
“I like those on you,” Seth said, leering at me from the front seat.
“Did we pass?” Mitchell asked while queuing up our next musical endeavor, which was… the Beatles.
“With aces,” I told them. “Thanks a lot, you guys. I really appreciate it.”
I got a little choked up for a moment at their gesture. They really wanted me in their gang. I didn’t know why that realization hit me harder than the others—perhaps because Mitchell had pitched in as well. Seth climbed over the seat to join me in the back where he kissed me with a sudden fervor. It made a loud, smacking noise that even the music couldn’t cover.
