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Banri danced and jumped and twirled through the parking lot.
“Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer… Rein-deer…” he sang. “Had a very shiny nose… Like a lightbulb!”
With every step, he kicked up puffs of fluffy white snow, scattering it across the shimmering ice. The wind was cold, but in his Hanabi Singers recital costume, Banri was toasty warm.
And what a costume it was! Banri loved everything about it. He loved the soft blue vest with the shiny silver buttons and the big blue sash. He loved the sleek brown boots with the fancy laces, which he tied into perfect, neat bows all by himself. He loved the white cloak that swooshed behind him when he jumped, just like a superhero’s cape, with soft fluffy trim that sparkled just like real snow. And, most of all, he loved the beret with the blue bow and tiny silver letters spelling out his name – “Banri Settsu” – his name!
It was, without a doubt, the coolest outfit Banri had ever worn. Even cooler than his favorite pair of leopard-print pajamas. And when his parents saw how cool he looked… Just the thought of their smiling faces made Banri so happy he thought he might burst.
They were going to praise him this time. He was certain of it. They had to-
“Hey! Quit jumping in the snowbanks!”
A familiar voice shouted at him from across the parking lot. Banri turned to see his big sister, trying not to slip on the ice as she stalked towards him, glaring sourly.
Banri glared right back and jumped into the next pile of snow. It sprayed all the way to his knees.
“HEY!” Banri’s sister caught up to him. She yanked him backwards by the scruff of his cloak. “I said quit it! You’re gonna get your clothes all wet!”
As much as Banri hated to admit it, she was right. It wouldn’t do to get his outfit all soggy before his parents could see it. But he still squirmed in his sister’s grip.
“Ugh, your bowtie’s coming undone again.” Banri’s sister pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and fastened it, her long red nails scratching the blue satin bow. Her silver lip ring glinted as her lips curled into their usual scowl.
The moment she was finished, Banri wrestled out of her grip and took off, but quick as a wink, his sister grabbed his hand. “Slow down,” she growled.
“Nooo!” Banri whined, wriggling. At six years old – six years and three months, to be precise – Banri was practically an adult. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand, least of all his stupid sister. But he struggled in vain, and his sister dragged him across the parking lot.
“Leggo!” Banri smacked her side with his free hand.
In response, his sister almost wrenched his arm out of his socket. “No hitting!”
“Ow!”
“Shut up.”
“That’s a bad word!”
“Is not.”
“Is too!” Banri drew himself up to his full height of three feet and eleven inches. “When Mom and Dad get here, I’m telling!”
“When Mom and Dad get here, huh?” Banri’s sister snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“What?” Banri stopped walking, shocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” his sister replied. “They ain’t coming.”
“They are too!” Banri stamped his foot. “They promised!”
“Oh, like they “promised” to come to your piano recital? Or like they “promised” to come to your soccer games? Or your birthday party?” Banri’s sister put her hand on her hip and stared him down with her coldest thirteen-year-old glare. “Get real. I’m telling you, they’re gonna blow you off. Just like they always do.”
“No, they’re NOT!”
Banri’s shout was so piercing that his sister jumped. She only let go of his hand for an instant, but it was enough time for Banri to dash away from her and towards the auditorium entrance.
He heard his sister shouting after him as he sprinted inside, but he ignored her. Only pausing for a moment to struggle with the heavy door, he dove into the lobby, weaving between the legs of all the adults loitering there. Anger rang in his ears like a fire alarm, but he took deep breaths, just like his mom always told him to do when he was upset. By the time he made it to the back wall, his heartbeat was mostly calm again. Mostly.
He scanned the signs on the wall. “Dress-ing Rooms…” he read aloud, very carefully. “Hanabi Sing-ers… Room 1-0-4…”
“Banchan!”
There was a shout from behind him. A second later, another boy wearing the same white fluffy cloak as him emerged from the crowd, clutching his beret in his hands. It was Kazunari – the Hanabi Singer boy with whom Banri got along best.
“Kaachan!” Banri shouted in response, and ran up to the other boy. “Merry Christmas, Kaachan!”
Kazunari’s green eyes sparkled as he smiled. “It’s not Christmas yet, silly.”
“Well, it’s ALMOST Christmas,” Banri responded firmly. “So Merry Christmas.”
Kazunari nodded, conceding. Even though he was older than Banri – one of the oldest boys in the choir, in fact – he usually deferred to Banri’s six-year-old expertise. Banri’s mom and dad and sister never listened to him, but Kazunari always did. That was why they were such good friends.
“Um, Banchan, do you know where we’re supposed to go?” Kazunari’s green eyes darted around the crowded lobby, nervous.
“Of course I do,” said Banri smugly. “We have to go to Room 104. C’mon, c’mon!”
He took Kazunari’s hand, and the two boys stampeded down the hallway. Banri’s boots stomped in a loud, satisfying way, and his cloak billowed behind him like a superhero’s cape. He grinned from ear to ear.
“S-Slow down, Banchan!” Kazunari protested.
“Speed up, speed up!” Banri laughed, and he tore around the corner and through the door of Room 104.
All of the other Hanabi Singers were there – and standing in front of them, in a dress adorned with snowflakes, was Miss Yukiko, the choir director. She turned and smiled down at Banri and Kazunari. In her six-inch heels, she towered over all the choir boys, but she wasn’t scary in the least. In fact, she was one of the sweetest old ladies Banri had ever met. (She was twenty-five, which to Banri was unfathomably ancient.)
“Ah, Banri and Kazunari!” Her voice was gentle and warm, like a mug of hot chocolate. “I’m glad you both got here safe. The roads are icy today, aren’t they?”
“Miss Yukiko, Miss Yukiko!” Banri jumped to grab her attention, then twirled, swishing his cloak. “Look, look!”
“My goodness! That outfit’s a perfect fit. You look adorable, Banri-”
“I’m not adorable!” Banri put his hands on his hips, glaring. “I’m handsome.”
Miss Yukiko put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, pardon me. You’re quite right. You look very handsome.” She bowed her head in apology.
“I forgive you,” said Banri. That was the gentlemanly thing to say.
Miss Yukiko turned her gaze to Kazunari. “And you too, Kazu. You just need to put your beret on, sweetheart.”
Kazunari looked at the floor, embarrassed to be the center of attention. “I… I dunno how to put it on-”
“You don’t?” Banri didn’t understand. “But it’s easy!”
“Now, now, Banri.” Miss Yukiko’s voice took on a slightly firmer tone. “I’ll help you, Kazu. Banri, why don’t you go join the rest of the choir?”
Banri nodded and took off, pausing only to grab his book of sheet music off the table. It was a bright, Christmassy red, with his name – “Banri Settsu” – his name! – written in gold trim on the front. He didn’t really need the book, to be honest, since he’d memorized all his parts weeks ago. But he grabbed it anyway, to be polite.
He took his place on the far-right side, on the very end of the row. The other boys were all chatting with each other already. They didn’t talk to Banri very much. Mostly because he was the youngest one in the whole choir, and they wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a baby. Banri was not a baby, but he didn’t know how to make the other boys understand that.
But Kazunari understood – and as he took his place on Banri’s left, he smiled at Banri, and Banri smiled back.
“Okay, everyone!” Miss Yukiko clapped her hands, and everyone stopped talking. “It’s time to rehearse. Let’s all do our very best today, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Yukiko,” the Hanabi Singers all chorused.
“From the top. First up: Frosty the Snowman…”
The dress rehearsal passed in a flash. Banri was so excited he could hardly stand still. All of their songs sounded better than ever, the product of months of practice. And Banri had practiced just as hard as anyone. His parents and his sister always said that he was naturally talented, that he didn’t really need to practice, and that was sort of true – but Miss Yukiko praised him so earnestly when he did. “I can tell how hard you practiced,” she’d say, patting his head, and Banri would glow with pride.
He could hardly wait. He could hardly wait for his parents to praise him like that, too.
At long last, they got to their second-last song – Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The song with Banri’s big solo. Miss Yukiko locked eyes with him, and with a swish of her hands, she counted him in.
Banri took a big, deep breath. “You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen… Comet and Cupid and Donder and Blitzen…”
His voice rang out as clear and sweet as a bell. Every note perfectly in tune, with just the right amount of vibrato.
Miss Yukiko smiled in approval, and Banri smiled too, spreading his arms out wide. “But do you recaaaall? The most famous reindeer of-”
There was a knock on the door. The pianist stopped playing, and Banri stopped singing.
“Hanabi Singers?” said a man with a clipboard. “You’re on.”
Miss Yukiko nodded. “We’ll be right there!” She turned back to the Hanabi Singers. “Sorry, everyone. Looks like we’re out of time.”
Banri pouted. He hadn’t gotten to finish his solo. But Kazunari patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Banchan. You sounded really good!”
“Of course I did,” said Banri smugly. He felt a bit better.
“Line up, everyone!” Miss Yukiko commanded, and the Hanabi Singers obediently shuffled into place. Banri marched to his spot in the very front of the line, right next to Miss Yukiko.
“Stay close, Banri,” Miss Yukiko said. She reached out her hand.
Banri bristled. “I don’t need to hold hands,” he grumbled. “I’m not a baby.”
“I know. It’s just… I feel a little bit nervous, you see.”
“Oh. Well, in that case…” With the grace of a perfect gentleman, Banri took Miss Yukiko’s hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said wisely.
Miss Yukiko squeezed his hand. “Yes. You’re quite right.”
“Of course I’m right,” said Banri smugly.
With a chuckle, Miss Yukiko proceeded down the hall, with all the Hanabi Singers following her like fluffy white ducklings. They passed through a door marked PERFORMERS ONLY into a dark maze of shadowy rooms. He heard some of the boys murmuring in fear, but Banri wasn’t scared at all. But he clutched Miss Yukiko’s hand tighter, just in case she was scared.
“Are you excited, Banri?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Haha, I can tell. You’re looking forward to showing off how hard you’ve worked, right?”
“Right!” Banri nodded vigorously. “My mom and my dad are coming to see!”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh! My sister said they weren’t coming, because they didn’t come to my piano recital, or my soccer games, or my birthday party, but they’re coming today! They promised!”
“I see…” Miss Yukiko rounded the corner, and for a moment, Banri couldn’t see the expression on her face. But when they stepped back into the light, she was smiling again.
“And-” Banri swung her hand as he talked. “And my sister- I got my sister to save their seats!”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh! I made signs, so they know where their seats are, and- and my sister’s gonna put the signs on their seats, and then they’re gonna sit in the front row and-”
“Oh, Banri,” Miss Yukiko interrupted, “we have to be quiet now that we’re backstage, okay?”
Banri looked around to see tall, red curtains, marking the backstage area. From the stage a few feet away, he heard the final notes of the penultimate choir’s performance. (That was a word he’d read in a book the other day – penultimate. It sounded very gentlemanly.) The Hanabi Singers were the very last choir to perform in the Veludo Children’s Choir Holiday Jamboree. Miss Yukiko said it was because they were saving the best choir for last.
Banri lowered his voice to a whisper. “Look, look! If you look, you’ll see them in the front row!”
He peered around Miss Yukiko’s skirts, trying to catch a glimpse of the audience past the velvety curtains. He searched the faces of the crowd. And-
There! In the front row, his sister sat, arms folded, looking bored out of her mind. And next to her, there were two empty chairs.
…Two empty chairs.
Both adorned with white paper signs, with painstakingly neat letters written in purple crayon. MOM, and DAD.
Banri blinked. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, it was true. The chairs were empty. His parents were nowhere to be seen.
Where could they be?
Maybe he hadn’t made the signs big enough. Yes, that was it. Maybe they were sitting in the wrong seats. He could only see the front row, but Miss Yukiko was tall enough to see all the way to the back.
“Miss Yukiko?” he asked, tugging her skirt.
“Yes, Banri?”
“Do you see my mom and dad?”
Miss Yukiko peered out at the auditorium. “Your mom and dad…”
Banri held his breath in anticipation.
But after a moment of searching, Miss Yukiko looked back down and sadly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Banri. I don’t see them.”
Banri’s heart sank. “You looked? You really looked?”
“Maybe…” Miss Yukiko squeezed his hand and smiled. “Maybe they’re running late. The roads are pretty bad. Don’t lose hope, okay?”
Banri swallowed down his fears and nodded, bravely. “Okay.”
The announcer’s voice boomed from the stage. “And for our final performance of the night… Please give a warm welcome to Veludo’s own Hanabi Singers!”
“Go on, Banri,” Miss Yukiko whispered, giving him a gentle push.
Banri confidently strode onto the stage, with Kazunari and the other Hanabi Singers in tow. The audience’s claps and cheers filled his ears. There were so many people in the auditorium he couldn’t count them all. At least one hundred, he estimated. He beamed at each and every one of them.
But when he looked at the two empty chairs in the front row, his smile melted.
All of a sudden, Kazunari let out a gasp next to him. “Dad!” he exclaimed, waving. “Banchan, look! There’s my dad!” He pointed.
Banri squinted at the crowd until he spotted, in the second row, a man with black hair and green eyes just like Kazunari’s. He was smiling, holding a camcorder.
He looked for all the world like a kind father. And yet, the moment Banri laid eyes on him, his stomach twisted like he was about to be sick.
Why was that?
He had no time to think about it. Miss Yukiko clapped her hands, bringing the Hanabi Singers to attention. She raised her arms, preparing to count them in.
Banri took a deep breath, calming himself, and the first notes of Frosty the Snowman swept him away.
He supposed it was okay if his parents missed Frosty the Snowman. His dad didn’t seem to like the song very much. He always shouted at Banri to shut up whenever he sang it at home, even when Banri tried to explain that he needed to practice. So it was okay.
But when Frosty the Snowman had finished, and the crowd was applauding, Banri looked at the two chairs in the front row to see them completely empty.
Where were they?
He asked himself that question over and over again as the Hanabi Singers sang on. They sang Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Let It Snow and Jingle Bells, and Banri’s parents still didn’t arrive. Banri kept checking the front row, hoping that the next time they looked, his parents would be there, smiling back at him – but all he saw were the two empty chairs, and next to them, his sister.
His sister – not clapping, but not staring off into space, either. Not smiling, but not scowling, either.
Banri was a little surprised she was even paying attention. She’d made no secret of how much she didn’t care about the Hanabi Singers, or any of Banri’s other hobbies. She was only here because Banri’s parents had forced her to come.
Right?
By the time they got to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Banri was at his wit’s end (a phrase his mother liked to say). His stomach was full of butterflies, beating their wings against his organs and making him feel sick. Miss Yukiko locked eyes with him. She pointed at her cheeks and beamed, indicating that he should smile.
Banri smiled. It wasn’t a real smile, not even close. But it seemed to fool Miss Yukiko and the audience.
He closed his eyes as he sang.
“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen… Comet and Cupid and Donder and Blitzen…”
His voice rang out as clear and sweet as a bell. Every note perfectly in tune, with just the right amount of vibrato.
Flawless.
“But do you recaaaall? The most famous reindeer of aaaaaaall…”
He sang as loud as he possibly could. Loud enough to fill the whole auditorium. Loud enough to fill the whole wide world.
But it still wasn’t loud enough for his parents to hear.
The rest of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer passed in the blink of an eye. Banri didn’t even realize the song had ended until he heard a screech from the front row.
His sister, standing up from her chair, clapping her hands.
There was a pause. Then, one by one, all the parents in the auditorium stood up, too, applauding, until everyone in the room had joined Banri’s sister in a standing ovation.
He saw his fellow Hanabi Singers beam with pride, especially Kazunari. Banri wanted to smile, too.
And yet, his lips wouldn’t obey his commands.
They wouldn’t obey his commands for their last song, either. As everyone else in the choir sang, “We wish you a Merry Christmas,” Banri could barely hit the right notes. By the time they reached the second verse, he was just mouthing the words in time with the others. And by the time they reached the last verse, he’d stopped pretending to sing altogether. He just stared down at his book of sheet music, watching the small black notes blur together and blur apart.
He felt like he was about to pass out.
“Banchan?”
He jumped. He looked around to see the Hanabi Singers filing off the stage. When had the last song ended? Kazunari was standing in the wings and motioning for him to follow. He quickly stumbled offstage, deaf to the audience’s applause.
As soon as he’d retreated all the way backstage, Kazunari ran forward and gave him a hug. “You were so good, Banchan!” he said, his breath hot in Banri’s ear. “That was the best solo ever!”
Miss Yukiko smiled down at him, warm as ever. “You were brilliant, Banri. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah,” said Banri. That was the only word that would come out.
Miss Yukiko’s expression shifted to one of concern. “What’s wrong? Do you feel okay, honey?”
Banri quickly nodded.
Bending down, Miss Yukiko put her hands on her knees and looked him in the eyes. “You must be tired after such a big show, right?”
Banri shook his head. “M’okay.”
“Tell me, do you need a ride home?”
“Nuh-uh.” Banri took a slightly shaky breath in. “My sister… my sister and I are gonna take the train home.”
“I see.” Miss Yukiko patted his shoulder. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“Mm-hm.”
Miss Yukiko straightened up and held out her hand. Banri took it without arguing. At the same time, he felt Kazunari’s hand slip into his right. Banri gripped it tightly.
Together, the three of them journeyed back to the dressing room. Miss Yukiko and Kazunari chatted as they walked, but Banri was silent. All he could do was stare at his boots – his sleek brown boots with the fancy laces, which he’d tied into perfect, neat bows all by himself.
Room 104 was full of people – moms, dads, sisters, brothers, and grandparents, all congratulating their children. When Miss Yukiko entered, one group of parents called out to her, waving her over. With one final squeeze of Banri’s hand, Miss Yukiko let go. She waved goodbye as she walked away, and Banri and Kazunari waved back.
Then, a moment later, Kazunari gasped and took off across the room, pulling Banri after him.
“Dad!” he exclaimed, running up and hugging somebody around the legs. Banri looked up to see the green-eyed man with the camcorder from earlier. He looked stern, but as he ruffled Kazunari’s hair, his features became softer and warmer.
“Well done, Kazunari,” he said, his voice soft yet rumbly; it made Banri’s bones vibrate. “I could hear you loud and clear.”
Kazunari beamed, his usual shyness forgotten. “Did you like Banchan’s solo?”
The man’s green eyes drifted to Banri. “Ah, so this is Banchan?”
“Yeah! He’s my friend!” Kazunari tugged his arm. “Say hi, Banchan!”
“Hello,” said Banri. That seemed like a gentlemanly greeting. But his voice wavered a little bit as he spoke.
“I’m Kazunari’s father. He’s told me a lot about you.” The man extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you at last, young man.”
At the words young man, Banri’s heart soared – but only for a moment. Because as sweet as the words were, he couldn’t help but wish they had come from his own father’s mouth.
“Nice to meet you,” he said quietly, shaking the man’s hand. He tried to maintain eye contact, but his gaze slipped back down to the floor.
“How old are you, Banri?”
“I’m six.” Banri paused. “Six and three months.”
“Six?” Kazunari’s father raised his thick black eyebrows. “How remarkable. I’ve never heard a six-year-old with a voice like yours before.”
“Really?”
Kazunari’s father nodded sagely. “Indeed. Your parents must be very proud.”
He said it kindly – and yet, Banri felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. All of the wind was knocked out of him. He could do nothing but gape upwards at Kazunari’s father, trying to form words.
Before the words could come, though, Kazunari’s father took Kazunari’s hand. “It’s time we get going, sport. Your mother’s cooking dinner as we speak.”
Kazunari’s eyes lit up. “Can Banchan come too?!”
Kazunari’s father hesitated. “Well…”
“That’s okay,” said Banri. “My sister’s taking me out for dinner.” He didn’t actually know if that was true, but he didn’t care. He suddenly felt, very strongly, that he didn’t want to eat dinner with Kazunari and his father, and he couldn’t figure out why.
“Oh, okay.” Kazunari looked a little disappointed, but his smile returned after only a second. “Maybe some other time?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
With a nod, Kazunari’s father turned to go. “I’m glad we could meet, Banri,” he said with an exceptionally gentlemanly smile.
Banri smiled back, in what he hoped was also a gentlemanly fashion. “Yeah. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!” said Kazunari, waving. And with that, the two walked away, hand in hand.
Banri watched them go. Kazunari, chattering happily about the concert and his mother’s cooking. And his father, nodding along, praising him.
Praising him…
Something hot and unpleasant flowed through Banri’s stomach. He tried to ignore it. But it hurt. It hurt so badly that it made him want to curl up on the ground.
And, suddenly, unprompted, a horrible though flashed through his mind.
He hated them.
He hated Kazunari. He hated Kazunari’s father. He hated Miss Yukiko. And most of all, he hated-
Banri’s hands shook. He was appalled. How could he possibly think such a thing? He didn’t hate any of them. Not Kazunari, not Kazunari’s father, not Miss Yukiko, and certainly not his parents. How could he possibly think such a thing?
Only bad kids thought things like that. He pictured Santa, shaking his head as he crossed off Banri’s name from the nice list. “Sorry, Santa,” he whispered under his breath.
Was he a bad kid?
Was that why his parents didn’t come?
His eyes burned, and his throat burned. He swallowed, trying to push the pain away. He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t cry. Crying was something that only girls did. And Banri was not a girl.
…No matter what his dad said, Banri was not a girl.
“Geez, there you are. Why’re you hiding in the corner?”
Banri jumped, startled. He looked up to see his sister, the only person in the room. Everyone else was long gone. His sister’s face was blurry, her silver lip ring nothing more than a hazy streak of light.
He quickly tugged his beret down over his face and turned away.
“Hey.” Banri felt a hand on his shoulder. His sister steered him back around to face her. When Banri met her eyes, he saw that for once, she wasn’t scowling. In fact, her expression was neutral. Gentle, almost.
Banri tried to wriggle free, but her grip was too strong. “Leggo.” The word came out like a sniff.
Banri’s sister raised her eyebrows. “Wait, are you crying?”
“M’not crying,” Banri mumbled, his voice watery. He angrily swiped at his eyes.
Banri’s sister let go of his shoulder and dropped her hand to her side. Her blue-green eyes flickered to the side. When she next spoke, her voice was even quieter, so quiet that Banri could barely hear it.
“Look, I-” She took a sharp breath in. “I’m sorry Mom and Dad didn’t come.”
Banri was so bewildered that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be crying. “Huh?” He raised his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Why’re you… Why’re you sorry? You didn’t do anything…”
“Yeah, but that’s just it. I didn’t-” She cut herself off. “I should’ve- It’s not fair, y’know?” She looked down. “If they couldn’t be assed to come, why’d they-” She cut herself off again.
Banri didn’t understand what she was talking about. He stared at her, waiting for her to explain.
“Hey. Y’know what?”
Banri sniffed. “What?”
Banri’s sister clenched her fists. Her expression darkened. And even though she was smiling when she spoke, her voice was the coldest Banri had ever heard it.
“Fuck them.”
Banri almost jumped out of his skin. His hands flew to his mouth. “You can’t say that!”
“Say what?”
“That-” Banri didn’t dare repeat it. “That’s a bad word! A really bad word!”
“So?” Banri’s sister raised an eyebrow. “What’re you gonna do? Tell on me?”
“N-No, but-”
“How ‘bout this, then. If you promise not to tell Mom and Dad, I’ll let you say it too.”
Banri couldn’t believe his ears. He gaped at his sister like a goldfish, mouth opening and closing.
His sister just smirked. “C’mon. You know you want to.”
As much as Banri hated to admit it, she was right. He’d never so much as thought a word like that before, let alone said it. He couldn’t miss this chance.
“You won’t tell?” he asked, just to make sure. “You won’t tell anyone? Not even Santa?”
“Yep.” Banri’s sister drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Banri swallowed, nervous. “Okay. F…”
His sister waited.
“Fu…”
His sister’s smile widened.
And as Banri spoke the words, suddenly, he found himself smiling too.
“Fuck them.” And then, laughing, as the glee of swearing filled every bone in his body: “Fuck them!”
Banri’s sister grinned as wide as a piano, and her grin shone even brighter than her silver lip ring. “There you go!”
She raised her hand, and Banri smacked her palm. The sound reverberated through the entire dressing room. A perfect Settsu high five.
Banri’s sister reached down and fixed his beret, pushing it back up into its usual jaunty angle. “C’mon, Banster,” she said. “Let’s get supper.”
Banri nodded eagerly; he was starving. “Can we get-”
“Sushi, right?”
“Yeah!” Banri clapped his hands. “Let’s get Calforna rolls!”
Banri’s sister snorted. “It’s California rolls, dummy.”
“Is not!”
“Is too.”
“Is not!”
But Banri’s sister was already walking away. “Is too,” she called over her shoulder.
“Wait!” Banri, grumbling, ran after her. As he caught up, he reached out to his sister’s right hand, which was hanging loosely at her side. He grabbed on. His sister slowed her pace, just a little, and her fingers curled around his tiny hand.
Banri was much too old to hold hands with his sister. But for some reason, just this once, he didn’t mind.