They’d been friends for such a long time, living parallel lives, but now Satsuki must view Kokoro as one of the special students who didn’t go to school. Kokoro was used to it now, but it still hurt to have these thoughts.

The second semester was almost over.

Winter break was around the corner.

The year was nearly over.

IN THE MIDST OF ALL this, as Christmas drew near, Kokoro’s mother came up to her bedroom one evening and asked, ‘Can I talk to you?’

Her voice was tense, and Kokoro was filled with dread. Something was waiting to bring an ache to her chest and a heaviness to the pit of her stomach.

A part of her wanted to know what was coming, another part not so much.

Her mother said, ‘Mr Ida mentioned he wanted to drop by tomorrow during the day. Is that OK?’

Her mother had probably stayed in touch with him. Just like she’d done with Ms Kitajima.

But there was a fundamental difference between Ms Kitajima and Mr Ida.

Whenever Mr Ida dropped by, Kokoro became incredibly anxious. She would begin to sweat, feeling as if she were about to suffocate.

He’s coming by now because the second semester’s finished, she suddenly thought.

At this point, he had to take note of anyone not attending – that was his job, after all.

Her mother’s voice was still strained, or at least it seemed that way.

‘He said he has something he wants to tell you about another girl from your class.’

Kokoro wasn’t at all sure that she could maintain her composure. The words pierced straight to her heart.

‘A girl – in my class?’

‘A girl called Sanada, who’s the class president.’

A siren began to wail somewhere deep inside her ears. Then it faded. Her mother looked at her, suddenly stern, and Kokoro found it hard to breathe.

‘So something did happen? What was it?’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said he thinks you and that girl had an argument.’

A chill shot up her spine.

An argument.

She made it sound so innocuous. Anger started to boil up inside her, so intense that she thought she was going to pass out.

In an argument, two people can communicate their point to each other. They are on an equal footing.

What had happened to Kokoro was by no means an argument.

Kokoro stood, lips pursed and silent. Her mother sensed something.

‘Let’s meet him,’ she said. ‘Let’s meet him, you and I. Did something happen?’ her mother asked again.

Kokoro bit her lip, and after a pause said, ‘They came to our house.’

She’d finally come out with it. Her mother’s eyes widened. Kokoro raised her head slowly. ‘I—’

You should never say you hate anyone.