“Hey, Sven! My dude, my man!” I presented his drinks with a flourish.

  “Hey, Cece.” He accepted it, taking out his matcha green tea. “Nice. Vi’s place?”

  I shuddered. “Don’t mention her. Gonna have to bleach my eyes.”

  Sven cocked his head. We were standing at a street corner in front of a snack shop. White banner with black kanji, sizzling squid balls behind glass. Cars whizzed by. The euphoria of a clear head countered wafting smog and gray mist, and kept me giddy. He made no comment and gave me a fish-shaped cake tucked in a wrap. “Taiyaki?”

  I bit into the goodie. “Red bean! You monster!” Chocolate-custard-red bean. That was the ordained flavor hierarchy.

  “Can’t spoil you now.” A smirk quirked his lips. “How’s the job search?”

  I sulked in my jacket and kicked a stray pebble. In the distance was the pagoda of Peace Plaza in J-Town, but here we were surrounded by the slat windows and white walls of shops for the everyday man. Each store was uniform. Squared-up with overhangs declaring names, stoically facing slick, rain-washed streets.

  I pinched my thumb and forefinger and showed the number to Sven.

  “Let me guess. It’s the interviews you’re bombing.”

  “If I can get them—which I almost never can!” I nommed my taiyaki and crumpled up its wrap. “It’s all so fake. The way everyone talks, the way they want you to talk—I’d rather work with people who like me for who I am. Same way I choose my friends.”

  Sven nodded as he stabbed a plastic straw into his tea. “And how many friends have you made so far?”

  “Yowza.” Whatta burn. “Bro, lay off that smoke, unless you wanna catch these hands.” I bumped his shoulder with a fist.

  He gave me an intense stare as he sipped, leaving the drink bag on the pavement. “You should consider it. Hiding your true self and pretending is important to getting along with people. It makes your life easier.”

  A lot of girls chattered about Sven. I didn’t really get why. Sure, he was tall, with sharp, dark eyes and short, combed black hair. He had fashion sense. He’d put on a large, stylish black jacket, with large pockets, and stood ramrod-straight. He was muscular and had a constantly hard, smoldering expression. I s’ppose rumors he received fat scholarships helped too. Classmates whispered and giggled as they called him dangerous. He was just a bro to me.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell the girls Sven was more interested in his cat than any of them. Speaking of which—

  I watched Sven pull a white saucer out of his pocket. Yes, straight-up, a small dish which he set on the ground.

  “Oh.” I pointed at the extra milk Vi had slipped into Sven’s bag. “That’s not for you, is it?”

  “No.” He took the cup and poured some into the saucer.

  Out of a dark corner, a small black cat with emerald eyes trotted into view. She had a package wrapped in paper in her mouth.

  “Ayo, Alicia! Where you been?” I took the milk cup and shook it at the cat. She ignored me and dropped the package at Sven’s feet, meowing.

  Sven reached down and patted Alicia, or Ali for short. “She was bringing me groceries. Thanks, Ali.”

  Alicia purred, rubbing her head against his hands.

  “Nijiya?” I guessed. I recognized the salmon sashimi Sven was putting into his backpack. From a supermarket blocks over.

  “Yes.” Sven bent down holding the milk as Alicia licked from the saucer. He was talking to the cat. “Are you tired? Yeah, I know we have a lot of work. Can’t be helped.”

  I grabbed the milk from Sven. Hoped to forge a peace treaty. “Can I try? I can feed her. Alicia! Remember me?”

  Alicia hissed and batted a paw at my leg. I leaped back.

  Sven took the milk back and poured more. “Apparently she does.”

  Alicia hated me. I didn’t know why.

  Sven rose to finish his matcha, but then stared at the receipt on it. “What is this?” he demanded, yanking the paper off.

  I’d almost forgotten about that. I sneaked a peek over his shoulder.

  Incident Report PC962 83912. Tell Tommy to drop it and leave by 1. 91%.

  “Dunno,” I shrugged. “Who’s Tommy? What incident?”

  “You—!” He jerked away from me, as if abruptly aware of my presence. “None of your business.”

  As if to concur, Alicia hissed, her tail waving at me in warning.

  Sven rubbed his head and groaned. “It’s nothing. Really. This is what I get for blocking her messages. Vi’s asking me to look up a police record. For my school project.”

  “School project?” I thought a little. “PC-blah-blah means theft, right?”

  “Ah, you’d know, wouldn’t you. Yes, there was a string of major thefts recently. Thought I’d write a report on it. You know the police explorers program?”

  “Barely. That you’re in it.” I frowned. “Why’d she ask you?”

  He gave a small smile. “Because unlike a real officer, I’m available. What’s more, since I’m studying in school, I have easier access to records than a normal civilian.”

  “Ohhhh. I got you.” His reaction still didn’t click though. “What’s the big deal with the theft? What got stolen?”

  He shook his head. “The problem is more that the thefts may be related to students. Which I am interested in, as a fellow student.”

  “Huh. I always saw you more as a homicide guy.” I scratched my head. “Isn’t Tommy a teammate in Chuji’s swim team? You know him?”

  Sven folded his arms and gave me a stern look. “No. I’ve talked to him a couple times. That’s all. Can’t say I know him.”

  I caught his chest rising and falling fast. His stance was more rigid than before. His eyes flared. “Then why—if you don’t know him, why are you being asked to talk to him—?”

  “Look, I’m very busy these days.” Sven ran a hand over his hair, doing his darn best to keep his tone level. “I might talk to this guy. Might not. It’s only a tip that—”

  He shot a look at Alicia. The cat was standing and regarding him with a rather serious expression.

  “—that I might be in for a very challenging, and therefore high-stress school project. I’ve been seeking to obtain a lead for a while. Not exactly like this, but a lead nonetheless.”

  I raised up my hands. “You do you, man.” Getting straight-A’s was outta my league.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. They jangled as he twirled the ring with a finger. “I assume you need a ride.”

  I scrambled to his side. “I call shotgun!”

  Alicia snarled, slashed at my jeans, and narrowly avoided shredding the fabric.

  I gulped and let her hop next to Sven. “You call shotgun.”

  ***

  San Francisco International High School. Most of the day wasn’t worth a mention. Only, around noon, I wanted to talk to my other friend, Chuji. He wasn’t in the cafeteria.

  Hmm. Can’t imagine the dude skipping a meal. Swim meet? Oh, wait. He’s going to travel with the team to his competition. Must be prepping.

  I lugged my tray over to the school pool. Past the gate, two students in black caps were swimming, while three more were sitting by the locker rooms, rolling up bags and sifting through their backpacks. The one sitting nearest the edge was my boy Chuji.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Yo!” I walked over as Chuji took a bite from a sandwich. He had mussy brown hair and big brown eyes over a pair of thick glasses. His swim trunks appeared a small fit to his body. Behind his back, people called him “chub”. Stood for li’l chubby.

  I mainly knew that because of the clique I sometimes hiked with in the forest. My relationship to that group was—uh, bizarre. Didn’t count as hanging, like with Sven or Chuji. So I didn’t think much of ‘em.

  Chuji’s other two teammates withdrew from me as if I was infected with leprosy. No surprise.

  Chuji himself waved, cheerful, and adjusted his glasses. “You want a pork sandwich and I know that because I’m very precise you see. I can tell from looking at you that you’re a meat eater, however, the meat is usually consumed in an unhealthy amount and of unhealthy quality.”

  “Bruh, I just want my food. Trade you.” I offered him a veggie burger—a good deal if I said so myself—and he swapped for a second sandwich he had in his lunch bag. His mom made it. It was goood.

  “You’re going to SJ in this weather?” I waved a hand at dreary clouds. “Aren’t you worried you’ll slip in wet plaster before you reach the water?”

  “Do you know who the painter Minoru Nomata is? In most of his paintings he would draw broken and blue worlds with large destroyed buildings. I go out to swim because I am reminded of his work.”

  Wish I had that conviction. No matter how much other students made fun of Chuji, they couldn’t deny his rankings in the pool. No one was sure how he regularly backstroked and butterflied his way to fourth, third, and sometimes second place.

  “You guys are driving off at four, right?” Me, I saw Chuji’s keen eye scanning his buds as they lapped, and his competitive, “I-see-you” nod as one splashed a fantabulous kick, and figured there wasn’t much mystery to his win streak.

  Chuji jiggled a leg and peered towards the locker rooms. “Hernandez is a star who demonstrates a tremendous and clean breaststroke. Our own star Tommy must both exceed him and compete in the freestyle. Over twelve nights we have kept a lane open for Tommy.” He pointed at the far end of the pool, which was empty and had floaty flags marking a border.

  “Yuck. Practice. Must be intense if you’re cutting it close.”

  When his friends called and waved their arms—“Chuji! Chuji!”—and he hefted himself and loped to the pool, I took my cue to leave before I inflicted their labors with bad juju.

  When I passed the locker rooms, however, I heard a familiar voice and stopped.

  It was Sven’s.

  What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in class? I inched towards the lockers and rounded the outside of the rooms. To my shock, I glimpsed Sven and quickly ducked my head behind cover. He was standing with eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice cut the air like a knife. His tall, ripped frame loomed over someone lanky pressed against a wall.

  “—Where is it, Tommy? Where’s the book?”

  Tommy, the lanky figure, was petrified, his whole body quaking. “I don’t know! What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been given a warning, and if you knew who issued you that warning, you’d hand me the book and be grateful. I don’t care if you’re going to miss out on swim practice—like I said, drop it, and leave now.”

  Tommy squeaked, doing his best to straighten and meet Sven’s fiery, slow-burning gaze. “Why do you care? You want to win more points with the authorities, don’t you? My team was charged to transport it. Mine! It’s my job, not yours!”

  “This isn’t about me!” Sven shouted, and Tommy flinched. “If this was up to me, we wouldn’t be talking.” His hand inched to a pocket and he growled. “Pretending to be an angel, are you? I know what you were planning. You were going to go off on your swim trip to San Jose, then hand the book to a contact in SJ behind everyone’s back. Behind your own team’s back. Pathetic. To think I once worked with you.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” Tommy’s eyes were shifting left and right and I pulled back so he wouldn’t see me. He was gunning for an escape route. The guy was an athlete, after all, and only Sven’s admittedly terrifying bulk pinned him down.

  I was utterly speechless. What are they talking about? Book? Were they playing a video game together and Tommy started trolling? That was maaaybe possible but also nothing they said made sense?

  Sven grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “This is for your own good, idiot! Listen, abandoning the book and leaving is preferable to whatever rewards you were promised. It simply isn’t worth the risk.”

  The other student chuckled. “You wouldn’t understand, would you? The bond I have to my teacher.”

  Sven slammed him against the wall. He growled.

  “Don’t think taunting me will work. I’ll search the whole campus if I have to. Where is it?”

  Tommy coughed, then laughed. “You’ll never find it. My loyalty to my Master is undying!”

  Sven shoved Tommy and let him go, breathing hard. He then took a black rounded device, like a handheld radio, from his pocket. Static crackled. “Shadow-2 to Marathon. We’ve got a mole. Marathon-3 refuses to cooperate. Request reinforcements to search campus for the item. Extra security ASAP. Mission is FUBAR, I say again, mission is FUBAR.”

  He whirled around to stomp away—in my direction. Naturally, I fled quiet as possible.

  ***

  I wanted to tail Sven. Duh. To increasing frustration, I ran into several hiccups. First I had to wait for Sven’s rage meter to cool down. While I was gasping for breath huddled by an evergreen, Tommy staggered past, white and sweating as if he’d encountered a monster.

  Since when does Sven go edgelord over a book? A book—like Kojiki!—what if he learns about that? It won’t matter that I’m his friend. If he gives a noodle like me a shove, I’m gonna break a rib.

  I didn’t want to get Sven’d.

  As I jogged past a classroom, adjusting the strap of my backpack, I ran through his schedule in my head. His days were packed as a can of sardines. He’s either cramming his projects or out doing extracurriculars.

  I rushed to the library. After all he had mentioned doing research. I slipped past shelves and students chatting at tables. Real musty but I was used to the smell.

  My shoes tak-takked over endless bland tile—a scheme I considered a state-sponsored psyop. Monotony bred boredom, boredom bred distraction, and distraction bred one’s hateful grades. Such were the ways of darkness.

  A majority of students fought to stay in the light. Murmurs blended into a low drone. When I swiveled my head to couches, shelves, and desks, people were nursing coffees, gossiping under amber lamps, or plumbing the depths of their textbooks and assignments. Is that him? No, no—aha!

  Sven was standing with a girl and a guy in his study group. I vaguely recognized his acquaintances. They were assembled round-table style, and though Sven’s face was rather serious, he was merely crossing his arms and speaking quietly.

  With how he was talking I thought he’d be running all over. What’s going on?

  While I mussed my hair, stifling a groan, I debated if I should approach. I didn’t imagine that conversation, did I? This’ll be sooo awkward.

  “—We’ll have to be thorough. Let’s regroup at 14:00. Complete our report together. How does that sound?”

  The girl, Mariko, nodded. Her black hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced beneath a white baseball cap. “I’ll be on track and field. Let’s move.”

  Mariko was a sports queen. Track and field, baseball, kickball. You could tell because she was always wearing a thin black jacket even when it was cold. Toned, tanned. Overall a good type for Sven to work with.

  Although I did notice one little tic. See, active guys like her and Sven carried themselves a certain way. Straight-backed and assured when they were still. This moment however she was shifting the soles of her feet like she was warming up for a run. Her hazel eyes were like his dark ones, intense.

  I pursed my lips in thought. Must be meeting a tight deadline.

  The boy, Zane, lazed a two-finger salute. “Ten-four, bro. I’ll be at the cafeteria if you need me.”

  Zane had on a beanie covering a mop of chocolate curls, and wore a thick overcoat. Had a hangdog look to him. Slouched. His hands itched towards the coat like he wanted to light a bong. I’d spied him smoking weed once in the forest. He was the type most people assumed studied esoteric Zen philosophy but in fact wanted to double-major in math and econ.

  I could pick out algebra equations in a workbook. Untouched. Yep, major cram sesh, calling it. Poor Zane can’t even squeeze time for his other subjects.

  A stack of sheets lay scattered at the group’s desk. On top was one paper with an icon of a badge. Police explorers project. Should’ve figured. They make a good team.

  Sven nodded back. “Good. We can play to our strengths that way. I’ll be in the main building.”

  Thoughts bounced in my skull. I can’t explain to everyone’s face! Will he get mad at me? It’ll be my word against his. Wait. They’re already leaving? I flung myself behind a shelf as the group dispersed. Sven went out a side exit and I ran after him. Stupid heavy door, I grumbled as I pushed the exit open.

  I followed until Sven arrived near a painted mural on the school’s blacktop. Going for a bird’s eye view? The asphalt was bare, with a smattering of shrubs and plants, but a good place to heave in fresh air. From his vantage point he could inspect streets and windows at the school’s perimeter. He was scanning side to side, hands in his pockets, walking at a fast but careful pace.

  He was looking for something, I decided. Although I bet, to everyone else, it just looks like he’s checking for thugs.

  Given Sven’s reputation and his background, that would have been understandable.

  Alicia emerged from a line of bushes like a shadow. The cat wound to his side. He talked to her. Sounded aggravated. I crept closer, straining my ears.

  “—It doesn’t make sense. Marathon got back to us. They don’t know where Marathon-3 hid it either. If you can’t find it, then how can anyone? Are we certain the book is on campus?”

  Alicia meowed.

  “You’re right. Go over the details again. All we can do is try.” He rubbed his forehead. “Why do I have a bad feeling? Go on. I’ll meet you in an hour.”

  The cat shot off like a black blur. I didn’t make it much farther, as Alicia was barreling my way. Shoot! I hightailed to the concrete of the math building, taking cover in its shade.

  Hardly a minute passed as I skittered back on Sven’s trail and ran face-to-face with his cat.

  Alicia hissed and bared her teeth. I knew menace when I saw it in those green eyes. She was advancing. Her haunches flexed. Ready to spring.

  “Aaaaah! What’d I do?” I sprinted away, clenching my teeth. Dang it, dang it, why she gotta ambush me now?

  Also I had class in five minutes. Didn’t want to miss it.