"They say eyes are the window to the soul. I think that's bullshit. Hands are the window. Hands don't lie. You can smile while plotting murder, but your hands will always tremble, or sweat, or clench. The world is covered in fingerprints, and most of them are greasy."
> Maria's Notes, Entry #45
Part 1: The Invasion of Privacy
Saturday is sacred.
Saturday is the day I do not exist. I decompose. I lie on my bed, wrapped in a weighted blanket that feels like a heavy, comforting hug from a bear that doesn't want to eat me. I listen to podcasts about unsolved murders. I drink tea that is too hot.
I am a vegetable. A happy, blind turnip.
My mother understands the Turnip Protocol. She leaves meals at my door. She does not speak.
But today, the protocol is breached.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell. It rings with that cheerful, aggressive chime that makes me want to rip the wiring out of the wall.
I ignore it. It's probably a cultist selling salvation or a neighbor complaining about the leaves.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Someone is hammering on the front door.
"Yo! Defect! You in there?"
I freeze. My blood runs cold. I know that voice. It's the voice of gravel, cigarettes, and bad decisions.
Yu-ri.
I hear my mother opening the door. My mother, the sweet, anxious woman who thinks I am made of glass.
"Um, excuse me?" Mother says. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah," Yu-ri says. I can hear her stomping in the genkan. "I'm here to kidnap Maria. Is she decent, or is she naked? Actually, I don't care. Tell her to get her ass down here."
"K-Kidnap?" Mother sounds like she's about to faint. "You're... a friend?"
"Friend, accomplice, spiritual guide. Whatever. Maria! Move it!"
I groan into my pillow. I consider pretending to be dead. I consider jumping out the window, but we're on the second floor and I don't know what's under the window. Probably a rose bush. Knowing my luck, it's a cactus farm.
I roll out of bed. I grab my cane. I shuffle downstairs.
The air in the hallway changes. It usually smells like lemon polish. Now it smells like cheap hairspray and ozone.
"There she is," Yu-ri announces. "Jesus, you look like a ghost who died of boredom. Go put on jeans. We're going out."
My mother is fluttering around us like a moth. "Going out? Where? Do you need money? Maria, do you have your emergency buzzer?"
I ignore the buzzer question. I type on my phone, which is linked to a Bluetooth speaker around my neck—a new upgrade I decided to try today.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" The mechanical voice is flat and robotic. It sounds like Stephen Hawking is annoyed.
"Because it's Saturday," Yu-ri says. "And I bet you were rotting in bed listening to sad piano music."
"TRUE CRIME PODCASTS, ACTUALLY."
"Whatever. Nerd shit. Get dressed. We're going to the arcade. Then we're getting crepes. Then I'm gonna teach you how to curse in sign language."
My mother gasps. "Yu-ri-san... maybe not the cursing..."
Yu-ri turns to my mother. I can't see it, but I feel the charisma shift. She drops the delinquent act for exactly three seconds.
"Don't worry, Mom," Yu-ri says. "I'll bring her back in one piece. Maybe two pieces if we get lucky."
"Two pieces?"
"Joke. I'm a comedian. Go, Maria. Five minutes. Or I'm dragging you out in your pajamas."
I sigh. I turn around and head back upstairs.
I hate her.
I really, really hate her.
I'm smiling.
Part 2: The Sound of Chaos
The city is different when you're with Yu-ri.
Usually, when I walk with my mother, she describes things in safety terms. Curbs coming up. Watch out for the puddle. There's a dog, don't worry.
Yu-ri describes the world like she's narrating a disaster movie.
"Okay, so to your left, there's a guy wearing a shirt that says 'Pizza is my Girlfriend.' He looks like he means it. Sad."
Tap. Tap. We keep walking.
"To your right, ugly dog. Looks like a rat that got electrocuted. Don't pet it, it probably has rabies."
"IS IT ACTUALLY A RAT?" I type.
"Debatable. Fifty-fifty chance."
She doesn't hold my arm. She walks next to me, close enough that our shoulders brush every few steps. It's a tether. I know exactly where she is by the heat radiating off her leather jacket.
"Why the arcade?" I ask via the speaker. "I CAN'T PLAY VIDEO GAMES. BECAUSE, YOU KNOW. BLIND."
"Details," Yu-ri scoffs. "You don't go to the arcade to play. You go to absorb the vibes. And to gamble."
We enter the arcade.
It hits me like a physical wall. The noise. It's a cacophony of electronic beeps, jingles, explosions, and J-Pop playing at 200% volume. It smells like ozone, sweat, and burnt plastic.
"Okay," Yu-ri yells over the noise. "We're doing the crane game. I'm gonna win you a giant plushie. What do you want? A bear? A cat? A disturbingly muscular Pikachu?"
"MUSCULAR PIKACHU," I select. Obviously.
"A woman of culture. Alright, stand here. Put your hand on the glass. Feel the vibration of my failure."
I place my palm on the glass of the machine. I can feel the mechanical hum of the claw moving.
"Going right... going back... drop!"
I feel the thud.
"Damn it!" Yu-ri kicks the machine. "Rigged! This thing is rigged by the government!"
"TRY AGAIN."
We spend twenty minutes there. She pumps coin after coin into the machine. She swears in creative ways I've never heard before. She calls the claw a "limp-dicked piece of tin."
Finally—thud.
"Yes!" She screams. "Got 'em! Come to mama, you steroid-pumping electric rat!"
She grabs my hand and shoves something into it.
It's soft. Fuzzy. I squeeze it. It feels... lumpy.
"It's hideous," Yu-ri says proudly. "Its eyes are looking in two different directions. It's perfect for you."
"THANKS. I HATE IT."
"You love it. Come on. Photo booth."
"I CAN'T SEE THE CAMERA."
"Does it matter? You just look generally forward and throw up a peace sign. Trust me."
We squeeze into the tiny booth. It smells like vanilla air freshener and teenager hormones.
"Okay, on three. Do a gangster face."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT A GANGSTER FACE LOOKS LIKE."
"Just look like you smelled a fart and you're angry about it."
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
We stumble out. The machine prints the stickers. Yu-ri describes them.
"Okay, the first one is good. I look hot. You look confused. Second one, I'm blinking, I look like a drug addict. You look cute. Third one... oh, this is art. We both look like we're about to rob a bank."
She peels one off and sticks it onto my cane handle.
"There. Now everyone knows you roll with the squad."
"THE SQUAD IS JUST YOU."
"Quality over quantity, defects. Let's go eat."
Part 3: The Truth About the Vice Principal
We end up at a burger joint. It's greasy. The tables are sticky. I love it.
I'm eating fries. Yu-ri is eating a burger the size of a human head.
"So," she says, chewing loudly. "You asked yesterday. About the Vice Principal. The infamous 'Incident'."
I stop chewing. This is the lore. The origin story.
"YES. WHY DID YOU PUNCH HIM? WAS HE EVIL?"
Yu-ri takes a long slurp of her cola. "He wasn't evil. Evil is interesting. He was just... a hypocrite. A small, pathetic little man."
She leans back. I can hear the leather of her jacket creak.
"So, there was this girl. First year. Quiet kid. Kind of like you, but with working eyes and less attitude. She had a skirt. It was, like, two centimeters above the regulation knee length. Who cares, right?"
I nod.
"The VP cares. He stops her in the hallway. Morning rush. Everyone is there. And he starts yelling at her. Not just 'go change.' He's calling her names. Saying she looks 'loose.' Saying she's asking for trouble. He made her cry. He was getting off on the power trip. You could hear it in his voice. That slimy, self-righteous excitement."
I tighten my grip on the soda cup. I know that voice. I've heard it from teachers who tell me I can't do things "for my own good."
"So," Yu-ri continues. "I walked up to him. I was eating a pudding cup. Chocolate."
"YOU WERE EATING PUDDING IN THE HALLWAY?"
"Focus, Maria. I walked up to him and said, 'Hey, baldy. Leave her alone.' He turned purple. He started yelling at me. Said I was trash. Said I was a waste of space."
She pauses.
"He told me, 'Your parents must be so ashamed to have raised an animal like you.'"
The air at the table gets heavy.
"Now, here's the thing. My parents are dead. Car crash when I was six. I live with my grandma."
I didn't know that. My chest tightens.
"So," Yu-ri says, her voice casual again. "I decided to show him what an animal looks like. I didn't punch his face, actually. That's a rumor."
"WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"I slapped the top of his head. Hard. With the hand holding the pudding cup."
I gasp. A laugh escapes me—a weird, snorting sound.
"It was glorious, Maria. The pudding exploded. It went everywhere. Down his glasses. Into his nose. And the best part? The suction of the pudding cup... it pulled his wig off."
"NO."
"Yes. It came right off. Stuck to the plastic cup. He was bald as an egg underneath. Chocolate pudding dripping down his shiny scalp. The hallway went silent. Then, everyone started laughing. He shrieked like a banshee."
"SO YOU GOT SUSPENDED?"
"Suspended? I got arrested, almost. Police were called. Assault with a deadly dessert. But Grandma came down. She's four foot nine, looks like Yoda. She yelled at the cops until they let me go. But yeah, I had to repeat the year."
She crunches on an ice cube.
"Worth it. That girl? She brings me cookies every Monday. And the VP? He doesn't look me in the eye anymore. He wears a better wig now, though. Glue-on."
I sit there, processing this.
She destroyed her academic record, got held back a year, and labeled a delinquent... all to protect a girl she didn't know. And to avenge her dead parents.
I reach across the sticky table. I fumble until I find her hand. It's rough. Calloused. But warm.
I tap the back of her hand twice. My sign for respect.
"Don't get mushy on me," Yu-ri says, pulling her hand away, but I can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, I have a question for you."
"SHOOT."
"Why do you let them do it?"
"DO WHAT?"
"The pity thing. The 'poor Maria' thing. Sato grabbing you. The teachers talking slow. You hate it. I can see you grinding your teeth. Why don't you bite them?"
I hesitate.
Why?
Because it's easier? Because if I fight back, I'm the problem?
I type slowly.
"BECAUSE IF I SCREAM, THEY WON'T HEAR ME. THEY WILL JUST SEE A CRAZY BLIND GIRL. SILENCE IS SAFER."
Yu-ri reads it. She is quiet for a long time.
"Bullshit," she says softly.
"EXCUSE ME?"
"Silence isn't safe. Silence is heavy. You carry it around all day. Eventually, it's gonna crush you."
She leans forward.
"Next time Sato touches you? Slap her hand. Next time a guy offers you a seat you don't need? Tell him to piss off. If they think you're crazy, let them. Crazy is free. Be a little crazy, Maria. It feels good."
She stands up.
"Come on. I want to go to the music store. I want to put headphones on you and blast death metal until your brain melts."
I stand up. I grab my cane. I grab my muscular Pikachu.
"YU-RI?"
"Yeah?"
"NEXT TIME, I WILL SLAP THE PUDDING."
Yu-ri laughs. It's a loud, barking sound that makes people turn and stare.
"That's my girl. Let's go cause a scene."
Part 4: The Texture of Happiness
We walk home as the sun sets. The air is getting colder.
I am exhausted. My ears are ringing from the metal music (which was actually terrible, but the bass felt amazing in my chest). My feet hurt.
But my chest feels light.
We reach my front gate.
"Alright, Cinderella," Yu-ri says. "Back to the dungeon. I expect you at school on Monday. Don't be late."
"I'M NEVER LATE."
"Nerd."
She turns to leave.
"Yu-ri!"
I don't use the speaker. I use my voice. My real voice.
It scrapes my throat. It sounds rusty, unused, and weak. It's barely a whisper.
Yu-ri stops. I hear her boots scrape against the pavement.
"Did you just talk?" she asks.
I nod.
"Say it again."
I clear my throat. It hurts. But I push the air out.
"Thank... you."
It sounds like a frog dying. It's hideous.
Yu-ri doesn't say "Oh, your voice is beautiful." She doesn't say "Oh, you spoke!"
She walks back to me. She flicks my forehead. Hard.
"Ow," I mouth.
"Your voice sounds like a chainsaw," she says. "It fits you. Use it more."
She shoves her hands in her pockets.
"See ya, Maria."
"SEE YA."
I walk into my house. My mother is waiting in the hallway, looking terrified.
"Maria! You're back! You're alive! How was it? Was it scary?"
I stand there, clutching the muscular Pikachu. I smell like cigarette smoke (secondhand from Yu-ri), fast food grease, and cheap perfume.
I smile.
I walk past my mother, tap my cane on the floor, and head to the stairs.
I take out my tablet and type one sentence for my mother to see.
IT WAS LOUD. AND I LOVED IT.
I go to my room. I lie on my bed.
I touch the sticker on my cane.
I touch the lumpy plushie.
Is Maria happy?
I close my eyes. I can still feel the vibration of the arcade. I can still taste the salt of the fries.
For the first time in seventee
n years, the silence in my room doesn't feel empty. It feels like a pause. A pause before the next song starts.
Yes.
Maria is happy.
And next time, I'm definitely throwing the pudding.