Without warning, he pulls the arm now holding my wallet in hand and drags me up to the counter. “Go ahead. Order anything you want.” It almost sounds like a dare. He barely notices my glare as he smirks at the man behind the counter with a “Chotto matte ne?” and a side note in Japanese that women sure do like to take their time to order.

I look the McDonald’s employee right in the eye. “I want two large fries,” I say, deadpan.

“Hai —” the blond guy reels back. “Wait, what?!”

“And twenty chicken nuggets.”

“… are you fucking serious?”

“Make it happen.”

He makes good on his promise. I share my fries with Yoshino as we wait for the others to order their food, but everything is almost gone on the walk back to Kappa Garappa. The guy who bought my food watches me eat with his mouth wide open.

“Cybelle should put a song on first,” Yoshino tells Matt. “She has to go soon …”

McDonald’s Man takes his chance to fall in step with me and reach a giant finger to poke my last nugget as I’m about to eat it. I jerk my face away, swallowing it down. If this guy isn’t careful, he’s going to lose that finger.

“I still can’t believe you ate all that food,” he shouts. “Where’d you put it all?”

I pretend not to have heard him. Back inside the snack bar, Matt actually lets me have the first song choice. Everyone goes nuts for “Thong Song.” The English-speakers all sing along, and the Japanese-speakers wave their arms in unison to the beat. Impressed by my high note, McDonald’s Man jumps up and joins me on the mic. There’s no point in shaking him off since the song is pretty much over; at least he’s not hugging me.

“Girl, you made my night!” He leans in toward me. I wriggle away in the nick of time. I don’t do hugs. One of the Japanese salarymen gets up and takes the mic from me, bowing, as the first lines of “Kiseki” begin.

“Good song choice, Cyb,” Yoshino pats my shoulder. “That was awesome!”

Now’s my chance. I murmur against her ear: “Yoshino, I gotta bounce. Are you good here?”

“Yes, I’m good! See you tomorrow — and thanks again! Get home in one piece!” she adds in a whisper.

“No problem! I’m good at getting home!” I give her and what’s his name a quick wave and throw a few high-fives to his co-workers’ outstretched hands. I’m so glad to be leaving in a good mood this time. Now for part two of my good day: a hot bowl of soup and that Advil I’ve been pining for.

“Hey!” The blond guy is grabbing my arm again. “Are you leaving?!”

“Uh … I’m going to the washroom,” I say, choosing my words carefully.