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“I’m going to fail.” It’s only inevitable that with an English test coming up at the end of the week, I will get an F. A surprise English test of all things that our teacher just told us about. “You won’t fail, Reki.” Langa says with his soothing tone, yet all I can think about is that failing grade at the very top of the paper. “You’re fluent in English, Langa!” The English textbook before the two of us taunts me with its unreadable words and phrases. “I’m not even sure why you’re in an English class.” I grumble underneath my breath.
Langa points to a word, says it in his calming voice, but as soon as I repeat it the word sounds like anything but the word he tried to teach me. “This is an impossible task.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if you actually studied.” Langa and I share a glance. If there’s one thing I know well, it’s that every night Langa and I find ourselves on our way to S. And every night we wonder what that means for the piles of homework on our desks at home. “So then I’ll stop going to S.” I say in a joking tone, but Langas’ aquamarine eyes see right through it. “Let’s just focus on this one page. You get the alphabet down and I know that you’ll be fine.” There’s a seriousness to Langa suddenly that isn’t like his usual self. I reach out a hand to nudge his shoulder. “I’m not really quitting S, Langa.”
“I know.” He sounds so matter of fact.
“Miya is skating tonight.” I say, moving my eyes from Langa to the page before me. The words flow across the paper in waves of nonsense. “Against Joe,” I continue. “I know Miya is talented, but against Joe? What was he thinking…” Langa flips a page absentmindedly; this must be like second nature to him. “I thought that he was skating against Shadow?” He asks, but his eyes are elsewhere. I take a moment to gaze into them while he’s reading another word I can’t discern. As the light from the library windows hits his face, small crystals seem to form in his irises. “Shadow has a florist showcase tonight so Joe took his place.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that he had a showcase.”
What are your favorite flowers, Langa?
“ Maybe we could stop and see the show before S?”
Langa places his hand on the cover of the textbook, and closes it before I’m able to tell him to stop; as if I would to begin with. “I have an idea.” There is a spark in his eyes, one that sends my heart into overdrive. If I wanted to, I could probably backflip out of the chair and into the main halls of the school. “You’ll ace this test, I just know it.”
“That’s your plan?” I raise an eyebrow, but he isn’t done talking just yet.
“Meet me at the skatepark in one hour.” Langa takes hold of the textbook and shoves it into his book bag. “We don’t have all day, c’mon Reki!” He smiles and my chest warms with a feeling I still can’t name.
It’s ridiculous, really.
Langa will take one look at me and my cheeks will become so warm I feel like I’m burning up. I don’t know if he notices, and I hope that he doesn’t, for my own sake. I can’t imagine a world without Langa. Even if or when he decides that he’ll go back to Canada when he turns eighteen--in a year. I can feel my chest burn suddenly as I forget how to breathe all together. A world without Langa is impossible to me in the quiet library as his mind churns with some crazy idea. I take a step, and he’s already gone. Is this what it’ll be like in a year’s time? I can’t stand the thought. “Are you coming, Reki?” Langa is already standing in the doorway, his book bag is hastily slumped over his shoulder, and his board is already being placed onto the ground. “Yeah...I’m coming.” I sling my bag onto my back, and follow behind Langa as he skates down the hallway. A teacher yells from their classroom but Langa is too far ahead to even think about stopping. He disappears behind a door, and I’m left in the hallway, leagues away.
The skate park is quiet at this hour. School hasn’t let out yet for the younger kids, so it’s easy to find Langa in our usual spot that overlooks the ocean. He skates down a ramp with dazed eyes. I’ve noticed over time that it's those aquamarine irises that give away what he’s feeling. Whether it’s sadness, confusion, mostly confusion over the smallest things, or happiness because he lands a scary as hell jump. When he landed his first ollie and smiled at me? I could’ve sworn that I was floating off to some other dimension that only Miya talks about. A dimension where I am slime and Langa is some noble and chivalrous Prince that only wants what’s best for his country. And of course, his smile is award winning.
“Reki?” My thoughts are broken by his voice. I can never get used to hearing his voice. It’s calm, and soothing when it needs to be. But when that excitement hits and his voice gets crazy loud and he yells: “Reki!” He’s waving to me, and I wave back.
My board skids to a stop right before his collection of papers, all held to the ground with rocks and larger sticks found who knows where. “What’s going on?” I pull my bag off of my shoulders, and let it drop onto the ground to the left of the multitude of papers. “Well--” Langa takes a deep breath in, “I figured that we could teach you everything you need to know through...skating!” Langa sits down in front of me, criss crossed. I can see a galaxy within his eyes now, full of possibilities. “You want to tutor me through skating?” I ask, if only to rationalize the idea in my own head. It’s crazy, but Langa has a history of pulling off crazy things, doesn’t he?
“Okay then.” I sit down across from Langa, and stare into those daring eyes. “Teach me how to speak this crazy language before the end of the week and I’ll...I’ll race you after the test, at S.”
“Really?” His lips are parted and his eyes are wide. What would it be like if I just leaned forward in the slightest and…
“Yes, I will race you at S and I will win.”
“First you have to pass this test. I don’t care if you get a 65, that’s passing.”
“I’ve never seen you so determined to pass a test, Langa.”
“There are things that you don’t know about me, Reki!” I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?” Langa nudges my shoulder with little force. “We only have a little bit longer until sunset. Are you ready to pass this test or not?” A sudden laughter erupts from my mouth. I’m sure that the wandering skaters are looking, and that the people walking on the sidewalk outside of the skate park are whispering, but I don’t care. I can’t care. Not when Langa is looking at me like that, with so much fervor and drive that it's truly laughable.
“Okay, to start we’re going to connect all of your tricks to letters of the alphabet, and their sounds.” I’m already giving up. There are sounds in this alphabet that don’t roll off my tongue the way they do for Langa. The teacher, who expects us to be able to read sentences and speak them, has to be prepared for the worst outcome. I am preparing for the worst outcome. But Langa has faith in me, too much faith in me. He tells me to do a kickflip and to think of the letter A when I do it. “How will this help?” I ask as my chest heaves up and down. My throat is dry, and both Langa and I finished our drinks at least an hour ago. “When you’re taking your test, you can think of a trick and there the letter will be. C’mon, Reki! I know that you can do it.” And that’s all I need, I hope.
At least half of the week has been spent doing this crazy studying game, and I only know fourteen of the letters. I suppose that this would have been easier...If I took the time to study. On the night of the first day, Koyomi, of course it was Koyomi, bragged about her A on an English quiz she took the week before. My mom was so proud of her. And as much as she tries not to make everything about grades--I would like to come home with something that is above a C.
Langa is helping as much as he can; this is his idea after all. But I can’t stop getting distracted by his eyes; and the way he carries himself; and his voice which makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine. Is this bad? Is this why the letters just aren’t sticking to me? Is this why it feels like there are millions of butterflies that have been suspended in my chest since the first day we met eyes?
I can picture it so easily, Langa. The classroom, still cold from the morning chill, but the sun is well above the ocean and it’s mapping out your face perfectly. Your dyed hair, which somehow looks like a typical color on you, had never looked so incredible than on that first day. Do you feel the same way, Langa? Give me a sign, please. I’m not sure how many more of these feelings I can take before I combust like a shounen character during their final battle.
On the morning of the test, Langa sends me a text right as my alarm goes off.
Meet me at the skate park before class.
Of course he’s awake. Skating makes Langa excited, in a weird kind of way. But teaching me about this other language has opened up another side to Langa that I’ve never seen before. A side that has made the intellectually stimulated side of my brain that hasn’t been used in a decade, hurt. If I flunk this test then that only means I’m letting him down and I don’t think I have the emotional capacity for that right now.
It’s one thing to daydream about the two of us, and another to even ask if he feels the same way I do. Perhaps I’ve been misreading every single sign. Langa looks at me, for longer than the average second, but what if there’s a cool bird right next to me? Langa holds onto my hand as we walk across the street--but only because he’s afraid of my mind wandering in the middle of traffic. He smiles at me for no reason because...because he’s Langa, and he can do whatever he wants even if the world forbids it. So I won’t fail this test, no , I can’t fail this test.
It takes me five minutes to throw on my clothes, and another ten to finally arrive at the lamp post where he’s always waiting. I pull out my phone to read the text one last time. “I guess he really did mean the park then.” I mumble to no one other than myself as I shove my phone back into my pocket. What could he even want this early in the morning? It’s still so dark out that I rely on the street lamps to light the path for my board.
The skate park is desolate this early in the morning. Only Langa stands in our usual spot, partially covered with trees that we may or may not have staged with the help of Hiromi and Kaoru. This was our place where we could just be, and I didn’t want anyone else to invade it. As Miya would say, this was our fortress to protect from the slimes.
“Reki!” Suddenly arms are wrapped around my shoulders. He’s so warm, and smells of the morning dew that hasn’t settled just yet. I took him in. Throughout the week I have told myself that Langa was my lucky charm; and I wasn’t going to let him go, not when I needed him the most. But our embrace didn’t last long. He stepped back, and dug for something in his bag. After a second, he pulled out a small black box, encased in velvet. “What is this, a ring?” I asked, but he only pushed it forward. “Okay…”
As I opened it my eyes were met with a small golden chain. Words were written out within the golden links, words that I couldn’t read even after all of the work I did. “When you pass the test I’ll tell you what it says.” Langa brushes a strand of hair from his face and I can’t help but watch. “Do you promise?” I ask, and he nods softly.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I have never been the smartest student, or most dedicated. Not like Koyomi, or maybe even Kaoru considering how much of a genius he is now. But even as the teacher pressed the page down onto my desk, I hoped for the best. I hoped that I’d see a 65 or higher. I turned to spare a glance toward Langa as the teacher happily handed him his paper, face up. I could see the A, clear as day.
I failed.
There’s a lesson to be learned somewhere in all of this. But despite the 63 marked at the top of the paper, I don’t think that I would have changed a thing. Seeing Langa every day, for hours far into the night and early into the morning, is something I wouldn’t have traded for the world. I liked him, or loved him, even if the big L word was reserved for the relationship itself, I knew that I’d been in love since he was introduced to the class that morning.
After the final bell rang, and we finished cleaning up the classroom, Langa approached me. “So, how did you do?” He asked. “I failed it.” The broom hadn’t even left my hand when the words poured out. Why did I feel like crying? I haven’t shed tears over failed tests in years and yet...I could feel them festering. Langa was quiet for a moment, an uncomfortable moment that lasted for way too long. “You’ll do better next time. You’ll pass the test, and maybe you’ll know what I’m about to say. What your necklace says.”
“What?”
“I love you, Kyan Reki.”
I can’t make out anything that Langa says. There are familiar sounds but they only become scrambled in my head. “Care to say that again into google translate?”
“Pass the next test and you’ll know exactly what I said.”
And so I sat down that night and read all that I could until my head hurt. I would pass the next test, if only to find out what he said. If only to find out what the necklace says.