Kenji’s face lit up. “She got caught in a cosmic storm. The rays hit her body, then after that, she could turn invisible.”
Cosmic storm?Marigold kept reading.
“You can borrow it if you want.”
Marigold was tempted, but she didn’t want to owe Kenji a favor. Anyway, what was she doing, resorting to a comic for clues about her mother? She closed its pages, noticing then a familiar pennant taped inside Kenji’s locker door.
“You want to go to Stanford?”
“It’s my dream school,” he admitted. “They just started a computer science department. I wanted to be a comic book artist, but my mom says I’m not good enough.” He scooped up his sketchbook, slipped it into his backpack. “So I’ll make games instead.”
“Games on a computer.”
“It’s the future.” He flashed her a grin. “Anyway, I’m A-minus Ken, I won’t get in. What about you, you got a dream school?”
Stanford,she thought.Because I want to be a doctor, not make silly games.
Instead of answering, she handed Kenji back theFantastic Fourissue. “I don’t read comics.”
Before she could start off, he placed a hand on her locker. “Say,” he said a little nervously, “a bunch of us are getting together at Central Library to study. Want to join? Friday’s math test is supposed to be a killer.”
“I’m busy today,” she lied.
“What about tomorrow?”
The bell rang, saving her from a response.
She shut her locker, leaving Kenji without saying goodbye.
It was a bad luck week. The next day, Kenji sat next to her in each of the four classes they shared. He didn’t try talking to her since he was too busy drawing, his Band-Aid–thick brows knit in concentration, but she just knew he was up to something.
On Thursday, Mrs. Gibson was out sick. To Marigold’s dread, the sub was Coach Harkness.
He stopped her at the door. “No gloves in class, Yuen.”
“I have cold hands,” Marigold said. “Mrs. Gibson always—”
“Asthma in gym, now cold hands in world history? Do you have a doctor’s note for that too? Off with the gloves.”
“Mrs. Gibson lets her wear them,” said Kenji. He quickly added, “Coach.”
“Stay out of this, Yamamoto. Shut your trap or baseball gets extra drills this afternoon.”
Marigold didn’t need Kenji to stand up for her. She shed her gloves, setting them on the side of her desk.
“Read chapter fifteen and outline Napoleon Bonaparte’s contributions to France,” Coach Harkness read off Mrs. Gibson’s lesson plan. He dipped into her jar of candies, unwrapping a hard caramel. It jangled against his teeth as he spoke: “I’ll check on you all in twenty minutes.”
Once he left, Marigold pulled her sleeves down to her fingers and opened her pencil box. She took out two perfectly sharpened pencils, an eraser, and a slide rule. She was a quarter through her algebra homework when Kenji flew a paper airplane straight onto her desk.
Earth to Marigold,it read.This is world history.
Would he not leave her alone? She pushed her glasses up her nose bridge. “I did the assignment last week.”
“Sure you did.” He swiped the gloves off her desk. “How do you even write while wearing these?”
Marigold stiffened. “Give them back!”
“Wow, they’ve even got lace on the edges.” Kenji held the gloves up for everyone to see. “My grandma used to have a pair like these.”
