"Hey, Kisaragi."

I gagged. "Call me 'Kisaragi' again and I'll throw up."

"That's your damn name! What else am I supposed to call you?"

"Nothing. Don't talk to me at all."

I twisted towards my shoe locker. As the final bell for the day had rang, crowds of students swarmed this area as they exited the building. Unfortunately for me, today of all days Igarashi had decided to catch up to me on my way out. I had no clue why but I didn't care enough to find out.

"I have a lot I could say about your nasty attitude," Igarashi said, "but I'm serious. Listen to what I have to say."

I tossed him a dubious glance, momentarily assessing the band-aid pasted onto his nose as a result of this morning. I spun in my lock's combination. "Do I even want to—"

"You like Kamakiri, right?"

I flung face-first into my locker.

"Wh-wh. . . A-are you. . ."

"I only wanted to make sure. Damn, you're an open book."

"Book? I— I don't l-like—"

"It's that bad?" Adjusting his bag strap on his shoulder, he tilted an eyebrow. "Don't you think falling for a guy over Mortal Mania tickets is a little innocent? I knew you were stupid but to think you were that stupid—"

"Stop calling me stupid!" It was difficult to ignore my flaming complexion, not when he had such a smug look on his face. "I don't even l-like him!"

"You better not."

I had expected a flood of tease, which was why his command left my mouth flapping wordlessly for a good while.

"What?" I eventually spluttered.

His sharp eyes narrowed into slits. "Stay away from Kamakiri."

Was this what he wanted to tell me?

My eyebrows knitted together. "I didn't realize you cared so much about who I got involved with."

I switched my indoor shoes with my outdoors. He expelled a heavy sigh.

"Look. This isn't coming out of nowhere," he said. "I went to the same middle school as him and the rumours about him were terrible. He wasn't a good guy. Sure there's the chance he's better now but I doubt anyone can change so much in six months. Anyone can tell he's up to something."

He didn't have to voice it out loud. The reason Kamakiri called out to me—why he invited me to the carnival—he was implying it was insincere. That Kamakiri had something up his sleeve.

"Nobody would get involved with you otherwise."

It was painfully clear in my ears.

"Don't place Kamakiri on the same pedestal as a jerk like you." Anger surged within me. "He's super honest and sweet. Not an inch of his personality is fake. It isn't!"

Igarashi must catch onto the desperation in my tone because his mouth dipped downwards. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I thought I'd warn you before you fall for his act and get your heart broken. You don't have to believe me but you'd be an idiot not to at least approach him with caution. Don't fall for him, moron."

"I-I'll do what I want!" I shouted after him.

But with a simple wave over his shoulder, Igarashi sauntered right out of the building.

I bit my lower lip, hard.

What was that about? If it was his idea of pity, I didn't need it. Kamakiri was a nice guy. The nicest!

And nothing Igarashi or some stupid "rumours" foretold would change that.

"Shiina's acting girly?"

Lowering the outfit I propped in front of the floor mirror, I rotated to the entrance of my bedroom. Mao had poked her head through, bug-eyed at the mess of clothes surrounding me.

"Duh," I responded, matter-of-factly, "I am a girl."

"Has she been brainwashed by the Dark Lord?"

My lips caved downwards. "And she's not listening. . ."

Ignoring Mao's subtle murmurs, I tossed my long hair into high bun. It was unkempt and unprofessional by a large margin, but it was enough to stay out of my eyes. Sloshing through the heap of outfits strewn across the flooring like a newfound mat, I collapsed onto my bed which was equally as untidy.

Tomorrow was the day I'd be going to the carnival with Kamakiri. The first date of my entire life, with the hottest guy I knew. So, then, what the hell was this?

Sneakers. Ripped jeans. Plaid dress shirts. Hoodies. Leather jackets. T-shirts with bizarre sayings.

I had no article of clothing that was notably classy or girly. None a guy would dare look at and find cute.

I'd never been bothered to follow trends. I've had others comment that my taste was bizarre—and definitely tomboyish—but I'd brushed it aside. I never cared to go the extra mile to impress others.

But now, when it mattered most, it was coming back to bite me. 

"What's with all this black?" I yelled to myself, frantically rummaging through my clothes. "Not the slightest pink or purple. Not a single dress. How's Kamakiri supposed to fall at my feet in love when I'll be dressed like I got out of bed?"

"That sure sounds like a problem."

My heart screeched an unintentional halt. I jerked toward the doorway. Mao no longer stood there. Rather, Chie occupied the spot, a soft smile lightening her eyes.

"I came up here to tell you that dinner was ready," Chie added, her voice a lulling timbre, "but it seems that can wait. Not when my little maiden is having a dilemma."

My mouth had subconsciously flattened into a thin line. I'd lowered my gaze to my lap. Part of me wished she would turn tail and exit the room, pretend this never happened. But Chie Chikafuji was the stubborn type. She never took no for an answer. Therefore, just like she'd barged into my life without the slightest notice, she barged into my bedroom, meandering over the mess the best she could before arriving at my bedside.

Positioning her index finger underneath her lip, she dealt a pensive hum. "This surely is a problem. None of these clothes are suitable for impressing the boy you like. At least, that's what you're thinking."

I turned the other cheek. Oblivious to that, Chie smiled.

"As someone who's lived quite a bit of life, I'll gladly tell you that dressing in super fancy clothing or tall heels to impress men almost always backfires. It's uncomfortable, and all the blisters aren't worth that pain, even for the cutest boy on earth. Something comfortable is the best option. Because regardless of what you put on, the only thing that'll truly matter is who you are. And personality triumphs appearances any day."

The silence that followed was painstaking. Balling my fists, I shuffled further away. "Is that all you have to say?"

Chie's next laugh is forced. "Hearing all this must sound a bit condescending. But, trust me, Shiina. You're already beautiful enough. Your sense of fashion is actually quite charming as well. You should hold your head high. I'm sure this boy will appreciate it more that way."

I didn't answer. Instead, I dropped everything and hopped off the bed.

"Dinner's ready, right?"

I brushed past her and out the door. Halfway down the steps, I spotted Mao seated in the living room before the butsudan.

Her hat placed at her side, she had her palms pressed together and eyes closed in prayer. I ambled downstairs in silence and entered the living room.

"And guess what, Mom?" Mao was mumbling under her breath. She hadn't heard me arrive. "Sana is a princess from a long lineage of elves. She has these long, pointy ears and can use a bow very well. She took out all of the monsters at school during our archery class! All of them!"

I couldn't help but smile at her excited spiel. Sana? Was that another classmate of hers with chūnibyō? Mao enjoyed make-believe but she was never the type to create imaginary friends. Evil organizations, however, were another story.

Th scent of incense was overpowering, instantly releasing all tension in my body. I noted the bowl of rice Mao had placed on the altar, chopsticks stuck upright in offering. In the photograph set before her, Mom's smiling face stared back. I could almost hear her laughing along to Mao's story.

"Mao had a ton of fun today!" Mao continued, this time, more tenderly. "So, don't worry. Mao won't lose to anyone no matter what. She'll smile lots and lots for you. She'll make you proud."

After a quiet "I love you," Mao opened her eyes. She spotted me in an instant. A wide grin reached her ears as she smacked her witch hat back on.

"Shiina, you're back to normal," she cheered.

I sighed, flopping down onto my knees beside her. "Why is that the first thing you say to me? Is me trying on outfits that unnatural?"

Mao's nod was instantaneous. "Shiina is better off when she doesn't worry about what others think."

Startled, I turned to her.

"The Shiina Mao admires is herself no matter what." Her gaze flickered onto the altar. "The Shiina Mom adored is the same. Mom loved Shiina for who she is. So Shiina should love herself too."

I stared at the photograph, blinking back hot tears. It'd already been a year. Since she died. Since Dad started picking up more shifts to support us. Since Chie, his newfound girlfriend, entered out lives and began living under the same roof.

It'd all happened so quickly. Too fast for me to accept.

As the incense burned I clasped my hands together and shut my eyes. Mao took that as sign to flee my side and properly set the dinner table.

It wasn't that I hated Chie. She'd been unbelievably kind to me since we met. She was everything most men probably dreamed of. But it was still too much to accept. So I blocked her out. I treated her like a stranger. Because Dad was rushing this all. He was hopelessly impulsive without Mom. Mao and me were hopeless, too. If she was here now, I wonder what she would say.

She'd surely get all excited if I told her me—the tomboyish girl who lived off rock music and junk food—had found a crush and was going on a date (or, something like one). She'd grab my arm and drag me to the mall to buy new clothes. Offer to do my makeup and my hair. Gush like my very own best friend.

Mao's chūnibyō would certainly be a spectacle for her. She'd play along, no doubt. Probably even wear a witch hat alongside her, chanting incantations, and playing pranks on me every chance she got.

I wonder what she would say about Dad and Chie. Would she be happy that he had moved on so fast, or sad that the love of her life had tossed her aside so easily. I was sure that wasn't Dad's intention when he started going out with Chie, but it came across like that to me.

"I miss you," I mumbled, knowing full well my voice had cracked.

Tomorrow, I'd make sure to have a blast. There was no need to put on an act. Not when I wouldn't want Kamakiri to do the same thing.

"I went to the same middle school as him and the rumours about him were terrible. He wasn't a good guy."

I wasn't going to believe any stupid rumours. I knew better than anyone not to trust them. Heck, people called me a beanstalk on a regular basis. So, it'd be fine. I'd be fine.

Bring it on.