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Natsuki doesn’t like a lot of things. She isn’t allowed. She’s not supposed to. Everything she’s ever loved has been ripped out of her hands and thrown onto the floor, then stomped on until it’s unrecognizable. So she tries not to get too attached to anything.
She learns quickly how to navigate her house in complete silence: these floorboards squeak, these don’t. This door has hinges that shriek, but this window will slide open without a sound. If you hold your breath a little when you cry, it’s easier to stay quiet. See? Easy. As long as she plays by the rules, she’s safe.
But then there’s Monika, then Sayori, then Yuri, and she can’t like them. That’s against the rules. She meets them at the worst time, right when she’s trying to cut ties from anyone and everyone. Because now, she has an escape plan: catch a bus to another city, doesn’t matter which one, and… fucking, she doesn’t know, she’ll live, or something. Anything is better than here.
“Welcome to the literature club!” Monika had said cheerily, a smile plastered on her lips like she was truly happy to see Natsuki. But that couldn’t be right.
“I didn’t say I’d stay,” Natsuki had muttered. But she did anyway, without bothering to look at any of the other clubs around the school.
She still hates her guts for that choice. Opening the door to new connections is always a bad idea. She should know better by now. The others try desperately to worm their way into her heart, to the point where she almost feels guilty for leading them on. She just can’t afford to like them.
“You won’t like it,” Natsuki had said when Sayori offered to read her favorite manga. (She probably would’ve. It’s up her alley.) “I don’t get it,” Natsuki had said when Yuri finally mustered up the courage to share her poetry. (She did. She was just being a dick.) “Stop getting on my case,” Natsuki had spat at Monika, upon being asked ‘are you alright?’ for the millionth time. (The answer has always been no.)
After months of scrounging for change and saving her every penny, Natsuki has enough money for a one way bus ticket to god-knows-where. Who cares? Not her, that’s for sure. All she cares about is that she won’t be here. She won’t be with him. So she packs all of her worldly belongings into a slightly moldy duffle bag and stashes it under her bed, beside her small collection of manga. The books are too bulky to fit into her bag, and besides, they’re unnecessary weight that she can’t risk lugging around. She pretends not to care. She pretends her heart isn’t already aching at the thought of leaving them.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Natsuki says at her last club meeting. Her duffle bag is waiting, still rotting beneath her bed, and all she has to do is go get it. It’s easier to leave on a Friday. They won’t know she’s gone until Monday, maybe even later in the week if they assume she’s just absent.
“Wait,” Monika interrupts her. “Could I speak with you?”
Natsuki shoots a bitter glance over her shoulder. She just wants to leave, she can’t afford to waste any more time. “What?”
“Um… do you think you could bake cupcakes for the festival? It’s coming up, and I’ve heard you’re quite the chef.”
Baker, not chef, Natsuki corrects silently. She grits her teeth. It doesn’t matter whether she says yes or no, because she won’t be here anymore. She’ll be long gone, in some far away city, living off the land. No more bruises. No more screaming. The specifics are blurry, of course, but she figures she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.
“Just think about it, okay?” Monika seems to already know the answer, based on her tone. It’s the same one papa uses when he’s too tired to care about anything anymore.
“Yeah, okay,” Natsuki says. “I will.”
And she does. As she’s walking home, she mulls over the suggestion. As she’s heading up the steps to her house, she imagines baking cupcakes at Yuri’s house, bringing the frosting into school so Sayori can help decorate. She imagines Monika’s delighted reaction to her newfound attempt at collaboration. As she’s treading down the hall to her room, past squeaky floorboards and locked doors, she wonders whether Monika knows she’s never coming back.
But maybe… maybe it’s not too late to turn back. Natsuki would probably make better cupcakes than any of the others, after all.
“Natsuki?”
She grabs her bag and slings it over one shoulder. Nah, not worth changing plans. It’s a quick walk to the bus station, she’ll be there before she knows it. Easy as that. Then she’ll be free, free, free like the birds that sing outside her window, free like the little girls and boys in commercials on television that hug their parents when they get home from school. Free like her mother, who had escaped long before Natsuki had even been able to speak. She’d only been old enough to cry.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady? Don’t—Don’t you ignore me, you little brat!”
Free, like a feather in the wind, free to go where she pleases and to be whoever she likes. Maybe she’ll find more Monikas and Sayoris and Yuris. Maybe she’ll finally know what it’s like to care about someone without the painful knowledge that they’ll soon be ripped out of her hands. Maybe there will be someone else like her on that bus—leaving forever, on the road to nowhere, comforted by the reeking of exhaust fumes and the rumble of an old, tired engine.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice? You thought I wouldn’t know what you’re up to?”
Natsuki can feel the sun on her face. She can smell the perfume of budding flowers in the air. The bus should be pulling up now, greeting the crowd of other people who are all in the wrong place, all trying to get somewhere new. That’s what she wants. To get somewhere new. But a new city doesn’t change who she is, it doesn’t erase her past. She probably knows that deep down.
Not like it matters anymore. The bus is pulling away. She can practically see the buildings whizzing past the window, echoing: free, free, free, you’re free. She can feel the stiff fabric of a seatbelt pulled taught across her lap, still too loose to pin her down. She won’t be here for much longer.
“You—You think I’m a moron? An idiot?”
At last, Natsuki is free. Free like the feather in the wind, free like her mother all those years ago. Anywhere is better than here. Anything is better than this. She can see herself now, in that big city of dreams, baking cupcakes in a fancy kitchen with powdered sugar up to her elbows.
She speeds farther and farther away from this crummy place with every moment; past the broken down apartment complexes, past the empty school, past the creek and the muddy water swirling lazily within. Far away, where nobody can reach her, nobody can hurt her. Nobody can find her.
Nobody at all.