Have you ever taught someone a new language only to have it backfire horribly?

The Truth Comes Out

Friday. The whole school watched Parker approach Akira at her locker. I stood by the water fountain feeling sick.

“Oh, hi you.”

“Akira son Genki.”

“Good morning Akira.”

“How are you?”

She turned surprised. Then he started speaking the Japanese I’d taught him and my heart shattered with every word.

She laughed at our jokes. Touched his arm when he quoted our poems. Asked about Tokyo.

She said: “Your Japanese is beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you like to have dinner together?”

“Zi, I’d love to.”

She kissed his cheek. Everyone cheered. I left before he could see me.

He found me after school glowing.

“She said, ‘Yes,’ this is all because of you.”

He hugged me tight. “You’re incredible.”

I stood there like a statue until he let go. The next day, I was eating crackers in the library when Akira appeared.

“You’re the one who taught Parker Japanese?”

I nodded.

“I thought so.” She smiled. “You know, the whole time I was teaching him about Tokyo restaurants.”

“He kept asking what you’d think of them.”

“When I mentioned a poetry reading, he said, ‘You’d love it’.”

Everything circled back to you. I stared at her.

Long pause. She adjusted her carabiner.

“You know I’m gay, right?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The carabiner?”

“The universal indicator for being gay?”

She pointed to the rainbow one on her belt loop. “My girlfriend Yuki in Tokyo, who I literally never shut up about.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“The whole time I thought it was just her best friend or something.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Parker’s in the music room.”

“You should probably go.”

I practically sprinted to the music room, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might actually burst out of my chest. The hallway seemed to stretch forever and my sneakers squeaked against the linoleum with each desperate step.

When I finally reached the door, I had to stop and catch my breath, hearing soft guitar music floating through the crack.

I pushed open the door to find Parker sitting alone on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, his guitar in his lap playing something that sounded both beautiful and incredibly sad. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching the dust motes in the air.

He looked up when he heard the door, and I swear his whole face transformed when he saw me standing there.

“You came,” he said, setting his guitar down on the chair next to him like it suddenly didn’t matter at all.

“I told me everything.” I managed to say between breaths, still winded from basically running across the entire school.

Parker stood up and took a step toward me, then stopped, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to come closer.

“I kept trying to tell you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“But every time I started, you’d say something about how perfect we’d be together, me and Akira.”

“And I just I couldn’t figure out how to explain that I never wanted her.”

“It was always you.”

“You learned an entire language in 3 weeks,” I interrupted, needing him to understand that I finally got it.

“Nobody does that for someone they barely know.”

“Nobody stays after lessons just to talk.”

“Nobody texts Japanese puns at midnight unless…”

Parker’s ears turned that familiar red, the same shade they’d been during our lessons when I’d adjust his hand position or lean in close to fix his pronunciation. He ran his hand through his hair. That nervous habit I’d memorized without meaning to.

“It was never about Akira,” he admitted, finally moving closer. “I mean, yeah, the stupid lie started it.”

“But after that first lesson with you, God, I just wanted to keep having reasons to see you.”

“You’re the only person who looks at me and sees more than just the soccer captain.”

“You see me?”

“I thought I was just your tutor,” I said, my voice shaking. “I thought I was invisible to you except for those three weeks.”

Parker reached out and took my hand, his fingers warm and familiar from all those pronunciation lessons when I’d guided him through the proper mouth shapes.

“You were never just anything.”

“You were everything.”

“I’ve been watching you read during lunch for months, trying to work up the courage to talk to you.”

Before I could respond, the door burst open and the trumpet kids stumbled in with two other band students, all carrying their instrument cases. They froze when they saw us holding hands and someone’s trumpet case hit the floor with a loud metallic crash that echoed through the room.

“We’ll uh come back later,” the trumpet kids stammered, already backing toward the door.

The others followed quickly, whispering excitedly as they practically ran out. I could already hear them in the hallway. “Parker and the book girl holding hands in the music room.”

Parker laughed. That real genuine laugh I’d only heard during our lessons when he’d mess up a phrase so badly it became something inappropriate. Not his popular guy laugh that he used in the hallways.

“The whole school’s going to know about this in approximately 10 minutes,” he said, squeezing my hand gently.

“And you know what?”

For the first time in my life, I realized I didn’t care about being invisible anymore.

“Let them know,” I said, surprising myself with how much I actually meant it.

We walked to afternoon classes together, and people definitely stared, like full-on stopped in the hallway, dropped their books, stared. Parker kept our fingers interlaced the entire time.

When some of his soccer teammates called out to him from across the hall, he just waved with his free hand without letting go of mine.

“Yo, Parker.”

“Parker learning an entire language in 3 weeks just to spend time with someone.”

“I wonder what’s really going on here.”

“That’s some serious dedication for a high school crush.”

“What’s going on, man?” one of them shouted.

“Just walking my girlfriend to class,” he called back.

I felt my face burn, but also my heart do this weird swooping thing.

During chemistry, while my lab partner droned on about molecular structures, my phone buzzed. Parker had texted from his history class.

“My teacher just asked why I’m smiling so much.”

“I said I finally learned how to say something important in Japanese.”

“She thinks I mean irregular verbs or something.”

I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud, earning a confused look from my physics partner.

After school, we went to the same coffee shop where he used to bring me mochi during our lessons. The barista, this older woman with purple streaks in her hair, recognized us immediately and smiled knowingly.

“Together?”

“Together this time?” She asked while making our drinks.

“Together.”

“Together,” Parker confirmed. And I loved how proud he sounded.

This time, instead of sitting across from each other with textbooks spread between us like a barrier, we sat on the same side of the booth. Parker practiced saying, “Kimasuki da, I like you,” over and over until I was blushing too hard to correct his pronunciation anymore.

“Teach me how to say something else,” he said, playing with my fingers on the table, tracing the lines on my palm like they were hiragana characters he was trying to memorize.

I thought for a moment, then taught him. “Zutto isai, I want to be with you forever.”

He repeated it perfectly on the first try, looking right at me with those honey brown eyes. I completely forgot we were in public until the barista came by with free cookies for the cute couple.

His mom called while we were walking to my house, and I could hear her practically screaming through the phone, even though it wasn’t on speaker.

“I knew it,” she shouted.

“I told your father, ‘I said, “Mark my words, that girl teaching him Japanese is going to be our daughter-in-law.”‘”

“Didn’t I say that?”

Parker’s face went bright red.

“Mom, you’re on speaker.”

He lied even though she wasn’t.

“Oh, hi, sweetie.” She yelled even louder. “Come for dinner Sunday.”

After he hung up, Parker looked mortified. “She says she’s been waiting for this since she saw us dancing in my room.”

“Apparently, she’s been planning our wedding in her head.”

“Dancing was only last week,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well, she works fast.”

“She’s probably already picked out China patterns.”

At my front door, he seemed nervous again, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he had during our first lesson when he didn’t know where to sit.

“So, um, there’s this soccer team party this weekend,” he started, looking at his shoes.

“Would you I mean, do you want to go with me as my actual girlfriend this time?”

“Not as my tutor or friend or whatever, but like actually together.”

“Only if you promise not to pretend you lived in Tokyo,” I teased.

He pulled me closer, his hand settling on my waist, and said in that soft voice that had made me fall for him during our lessons.

“I promise to only speak the Japanese you taught me.”

“Although I might tell people you’re my girlfriend in both languages, just to be really clear about it.”

The next morning, I was just getting my books from my locker when Madison appeared beside me like some kind of perfectly contoured nightmare. She leaned against the lockers, examining her manicure with fake casualness.

“So, you’re Parker’s new project,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

“How interesting.”

“You know he gets these little obsessions, right?”

“Last year it was skateboarding.”

“Bought a board, practiced for a month, then forgot about it.”

“The year before that, photography.”

“He must have taken a thousand pictures before he got bored.”

I closed my locker and turned to face her fully. “Good thing I’m not a hobby, then.”

She stepped closer, dropping the sweet act entirely. Her eyes were cold.

“You really think you can keep his attention?”

“You’re not exactly his usual type.”

“I mean, look at you, library girl.”

“Do you even own anything that isn’t a cardigan?”

“That’s kind of the point,” Parker said from behind her.

Madison spun around so fast her hair whipped me in the face. Her perfectly glossed lips parted in surprise.

“Parker, I was just…”

But he was already taking my hand, his jaw set in a way I’d never seen before.

“Save it, Madison.”

“Come on,” he said to me, leading me away from her.

“Sorry about her,” he said once we were out of earshot, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand.

“She’s been weird since we broke up last year.”

“You dated for 2 years,” I said.

“She’s probably not used to seeing you with someone so different from her.”

“That’s exactly why I like you,” he said, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

“You’re nothing like her.”

“You’re real.”

At lunch, Parker brought Akira to sit with us, which was surreal considering a week ago I thought she was his dream girl.

“I wanted to properly thank you,” he told her completely sincere for, you know, everything. “The intervention, the truth bomb, all of it.”

Akira grinned and said something in rapid Japanese that made me nearly spit out my water laughing while Parker looked completely lost.

“What did she say?” he asked, looking between us.

“She said, ‘You’re welcome, but you owe her big time,’ ” I translated, leaving out the part where she’d also called him an oblivious idiot in the most polite way possible.

Parker nodded seriously. “Name your price.”

Akira thought for a moment, tapping her chopsticks against her bento box.

“Introduce me to that cute girl from your soccer team, the one with the braids who always wears the vintage band tees.”

Parker looked shocked. “Wait, you mean Sam?”

“But I thought, I mean, she’s…”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “You thought what?”

“That I only date Japanese girls or that Sam’s too cool for me?”

We all laughed and Parker promised to make the introduction that very afternoon.

That afternoon, I found myself sitting on the metal bleachers for the first time in my entire high school career, watching Parker at soccer practice. The sun was brutal, and I’d forgotten sunscreen, because of course I had. When do bookworms ever need SPF for the library?

Parker kept glancing over at me between drills, this huge grin spreading across his face every time our eyes met.

“Parker, eyes on the ball!” the soccer coach shouted after Parker completely missed an easy pass because he was too busy waving at me.

“I don’t care if the Queen of England is in those bleachers.”

“You keep your head in the game.”

The whole team cracked up and Parker’s ears went red, but he still snuck another look at me before jogging back into position.

I pretended to read the book I’d brought. But honestly, watching him play was way more interesting than I’d expected. There was something about seeing him in his element, confident, focused when he wasn’t looking at me, completely at ease with his body in a way I’d never be.

After practice, his soccer teammates swarmed around us before I could even get down from the bleachers. They were all sweaty and grass stained, and I tried not to obviously hold my breath when they got close.

“So, this is the famous Japanese tutor,” one of them said, slinging his arm around Parker’s shoulders.

“Dude would not shut up about you for weeks.”

“Like, we’d be running plays and he’d randomly ask if we knew what kawaii meant or how to pronounce Akira properly,” another guy added, doing air quotes.

“He made us all practice saying it without the hard R sound.”

Parker’s face was approaching tomato levels of red now, but he didn’t deny any of it. He just grabbed my hand and squeezed it like he was saying, “Yeah, I was that obvious, and I don’t care.”

“She’s coming to the party Saturday, right?” someone asked.

“If she wants to,” Parker said, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that absolutely weren’t fair.

The team party that weekend was at one of his teammates’ houses, this massive place with a pool and everything. I spent forever getting ready, changing outfits three times because what do you even wear to a soccer team party? I finally settled on jeans and a nice top. Casual but not trying too hard.

Parker picked me up and when I got in his car, he just stared at me for a second.

“You look perfect,” he said.

The way he said it made me believe him. The party was already loud when we arrived. Music thumping, people everywhere, red solo cups in every hand.

These weren’t my people. They were all confident and athletic and knew how to work a room. I felt like I had a neon sign over my head saying, “Doesn’t belong here.”

But Parker never left my side. He introduced me to everyone, his hand either holding mine or resting on my lower back, making it clear I was with him.

“This is my girlfriend,” he’d say. And each time the word girlfriend sent little sparks through my chest.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him over the music.

“Just water,” I said. And he didn’t even tease me about it. Just went to get it.

While he was gone, a girl I recognized from the volleyball team came up to me.

“You’re brave,” she said. And I must have looked confused because she clarified. “Dating Parker.”

“Every girl in school wants him.”

“I didn’t really plan it,” I admitted.

She laughed. “The best things never are planned.”

Madison showed up about an hour in with her usual crew. All perfectly styled hair and coordinated outfits like they’d had a pre-party planning session.

She made this big production of not looking at us, but I kept catching her staring whenever Parker would lean in to whisper something in my ear.

He’d been teaching himself more Japanese phrases apparently.

“Kimino aguki,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “I love your smile.”

“Your pronunciation is getting better,” I told him, trying not to melt into a puddle right there.

“I’ve been practicing with YouTube videos,” he admitted. “Don’t tell Akira.”

“She’ll make fun of my sources.”

Madison chose that moment to walk by us. Accidentally, bumping into me hard enough that I would have spilled my water if Parker hadn’t steadied me.

“Oops,” she said, not even trying to sound sincere. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Parker’s mom already picking china patterns after one week of dating.”

“That’s moving faster than his Japanese lessons.”

“At least those took 3 weeks before the big confession happened.”

“You’re just so easy to miss.”

Before I could respond, Parker stepped between us.

“Madison, that’s enough.”

“What? I said it was an accident.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Though I don’t know why you’re slumming it with the library mouse when you could…”

“When I could what?” Parker’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it I’d never heard before.

“Date someone who only cared about my popularity.”

“Someone who spent 2 years trying to change everything about me.”

The music seemed quieter suddenly. Or maybe everyone around us had just stopped talking.

Madison’s face flushed. “I was trying to help you reach your potential.”

“No, you were trying to turn me into your accessory.”

Parker took my hand. “She sees me for who I actually am.”

“That’s worth more than all the fake crap you cared about.”