Yuki asks, “Cybelle-sensei, was he kind? He looks so kind.”

Seri agrees. “And I could hear him speak a little when I came in! His English sounds really good!”

“Yes! His English, so good! He can teach us English! Cybellesensei, are you sure he’s Japanese?”

“I heard Bucho say he’s half-Japanese.”

“Ehhh, I’m so exciting!” Misaki claps her hands. “Maybe, he is … eh, dokushin?”

Yoshino scoffs. “No way is anyone that hot single. They better bloody hire him; this place is bone-dry in the guy department, right, Cyb? Cyb, you awake?”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Girl, are you okay?” Yoshino edges the manjuu back toward me. I take a couple, but I don’t eat any. I’m too wrapped up in my own conversation with myself. Who is this guy?

“You know what, Yoshino? I have a feeling I’ve seen him somewhere before, too. Do you think —”

“AH!” Yoshino snaps her fingers. “I got it!”

“You know him?!”

“Haruma Miura! Now I can sleep tonight.”

“Eh, chigau yo!” Misaki teases, saying he looks nothing like him.

Well, that was a bust. I was not thinking of anyone remotely famous. Maybe he just looks like someone I used to know. Which is impossible, because I haven’t had any friends around here for years, let alone spent time with any Japanese guys. But in the end, I nod and force a smile as my co-workers go on about how great a fit this guy would be at our school. He’d bring in clients, that’s for sure. Every woman would step over her own husband to have Zaniel teach her children.

“Hai, otsukaresama!” Manager sings as a door opens.

“He’s on the move!” Yoshino squeals. The girls bodycheck one another to get out of the staff room. They stop and behave when Bucho comes in with her interview notes.

“Excuse me, Shiberu-sensei.” She smiles at me. “Would you please come outside? Mr. Kamisawa-san is going out.”

Ugh.

I’ve never smiled this hard in my life. The farewell is not as bad as I thought it would be. A lot of bowing with the other teachers behind the reception desk. I feel less self-conscious now. Not sure why, when all this paranoia is clearly in my head. Maybe it’s because Lieko is mysteriously absent from all this excitement. In any case, I’m sure I don’t know this dude. He, Bucho, and Manager exchange the usual pleasantries about going to Head Office for training, staying in their creepy dorms for one month, taking another test, yadda, yadda, yadda, all information he’s heard before. He gives one final bow as the elevator arrives and the doors close on him. He doesn’t look in my direction. Not once. And like that, he’s gone. Good. More time to sit in the staff room and wait for the world to stop spinning.

“Well?!” Manager turns to me. “What do you think about the interview? Kanpeki deshou? Good fit, ne?”