I Want to Kick You in the Back by Risa Wataya

I Want to Kick You in the Back by Risa Wataya

Author:Risa Wataya [Wataya, Risa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SCB Distributors


The bell signaling the end of lunch rang, and when I finally came out from under the curtain I found I was alone in the classroom. Apparently everyone had gone to the auditorium where there was going to be a slide-show.

The first thing that happened when I arrived in the auditorium was someone called out to me. “Hey, hold it!” It was a boy with glasses looking at me coldly. The band around his arm identified him as a member of the Broadcasting Club, the ones responsible for setting up events like this. “What is it?” I asked. “There’s a cable right there. Be careful not to get tangled up in it.” That’s what he said, but it was too late. I was already pretty tangled in an orange cable that had gotten wrapped around my ankle. The duct tape that had been holding it down on the floor had gotten stuck to the bottom of my shoe from where I trampled over it. The Broadcasting Club member gave a big sigh. “All right, just don’t move. Hey! Someone come over here and tape this cable back down!” At his call, a girl, also wearing an armband, came rushing over with a roll of duct tape in her hands. She bent down at my feet and chided me, “Move it, move!” Roughly pulling my leg from the cable with both hands, she ripped off a piece of duct tape and began reapplying it with her high-strung, nervous-looking hands. I realized that there were dozens of wires running over the floor of the auditorium, almost like veins. They were connected to a microphone and speaker on the stage. Groups of friends together were chatting and yet easily avoiding tripping up the wires. Why was I, who was by myself and undistracted, so much more clumsy? Why hadn’t I seen the bright orange cable below me even though I was walking with my head facing straight down? I realized it was because I never really pay attention to my surroundings. Everything around me I see like images playing on a television screen. For example, before I’d realized it, I was in the auditorium from the classroom. Naturally I had walked down the hall and stairway to get here, but I didn’t remember doing it. Because my gaze is so focused inward, I don’t take note of or remember anything passing by me on the outside. At school my inner voice is always talking non-stop and makes the outside world seem so distant.

Freshmen students from many different classes were pushed in tight within the auditorium. The boys, their bodies already coming to resemble adults, looked sad being made to sit cross-legged on the floor. It was depressing having to do that as a high school student, for sure. The shapes of the students sitting were all different sizes, but every one of them was unshapely, like a row of used erasers. Looking for the row my class was in, I struggled through the forms until I saw Kinuyo waving her hand at me.



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