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She shrugs.
I tap my finger on my leg. Niko turns away from me, her eyes on the city passing by. I do not understand her attitude. We were fine before I sent her to sleep over at her mother’s apartment.
“Is it hard on you?” I sign.
She sees me gesturing in the reflection of the window and faces me.
I repeat the gesture so she can see it.
Her brows furrow. She turns up her hands and moves them back and forth. “What?"
“Moving between your mom’s house and mine all the time, is it tiring?”
For a long time, Niko had been with her mother while I flew back and forth from Japan to see her. Then, after Ashanti’s remarriage, Niko came to stay with me in Japan before we both relocated to America permanently. She did not have to live in two different houses so often.
“It must be difficult to get used to,” I say.
“No,” she signs.
Then she returns her attention to the window.
I failed to engage her.
Again.
Akira drops us off at our home. Niko bows to Akira and then shoots out of the car. I watch her backpack bounce before she disappears inside.
“She seems upset,” Akira notes.
“Do you think she is nervous about performing tonight? It is her first time playing the piano in front of others at her school. She has finally made friends and spends more time interacting with them than locking herself in her room reading mangas. Perhaps she is afraid she might lose them if she does not do well.”
“This sounds viable,” Akira agrees.
I leave an envelope on the passenger side. “The ticket you requested.”
“I will need twenty more. The men from the security company would like to attend as well.”
“Tell them I only received three tickets. The school will not have enough space for them all. But we will take a video of her.”
“I will tell them.” She dips her chin.
My vision is blurry when I climb out of the car. I push past the wave of dizziness. Perhaps I should heed Akira’s warning and eat something even if I am not hungry.
After making a sandwich for both myself and Niko, I take the food into her room. Niko is sitting on her bed, her attention on her tablet. The frustrated look returns to her eyes when she sees me.
“I brought a snack,” I say, lifting the plate.
She gestures, “I’m not hungry.”
“Niko,” I set both plates on the dresser, “is something wrong? Did something happen at school today?”
She shakes her head.
“Did something happen at your mother’s house yesterday?”
She frowns.
A slow realization dawns. “Is this because your mother spoke to you about Dejonae?”
