“His English is good, all right,” I admit. “But I don’t know about him being a good fit. It doesn’t sound like he has a whole lot of experience with kids, and we need someone who —”

“Yes, yes, but what about his English? It’s perfect, yes?”

Bucho mentions in discrete Japanese that his English scores are off the chart. He could teach her English. Manager nods. “But, Cybelle-sensei, do you mean you don’t like him? He likes you. At the end of Japanese interview, he said you are a true dream.”

“A what now?”

Manager flinches. “Ah, I’m sorry … he said to tell you … true dream? Sorry, he said this in English; I did not understand. Is it a kind of American joke?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t care.

“I hope he comes back …” Misaki says behind me in a dreamy voice.

“Of course, you do,” I blurt out. “Manager, can I go out and grab something to eat? Before my Baby students get here?”

“Ah! But … Baby students will be here soon, so please, maybe, you should stay at Zozo. Soshite, as promised, I will buy you lunch. So please, be patient. In staff room. Do not buy, ne? My treat, today!”

“No, no, I remember. I just need some air. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Manager doesn’t look pleased, but he lets me grab my coin purse and swap my Tinker Bell slippers for my shoes without any further protest. I press the button for the elevator, but when it arrives, I turn to him. “Hey, Manager,” I swirl my finger in the air. “What’s with the music?”

“Ah, yokatta, you heard it! We play on your stereo in Room Four. Good impression for new teacher!”

“We’re playing classical music to impress the new guy?”

“Yes! Do you think it works? I hope it works. Kamisawa-sensei would make good fit, ne?”

One of my eyes twitches sharply. “Be right back.”

“Hai, itterasshai!”

“Ittekimasu.”

The gentle motion of the elevator does not help my looming migraine one bit. Maybe if I just buy a little cake from HORUS, I’ll still have an appetite for this free lunch I have coming to me without passing out from hunger.

HORUS is closed. Shoot. It doesn’t open for another hour, right when my Baby class starts. I settle for a handful of Black Thunders from Family Mart and wolf them all down in front of the station. Oh my gosh, the crunchy rice-puff base, the sweet but subtle chocolate coating … these little bars have never tasted this good.

“Pssst!” I hear behind me. No. Not again. No more weirdness today. I hear it a second time, louder. “PSSST.”