Meg and Seron Vol 6 Chapter 4

Chapter 4: We are the Newspaper Club

Part 1: You Head to the Capital District

Your shock is understandable.

“Me? A Capital District secondary school?”

After all, you attend a secondary school in the Republic of Raputoa, thousands of kilometers from the Special Capital District.

Your parents are farmers, neither particularly rich nor poor. Simply put, you are an ordinary student living in an ordinary countryside.

And yet you are being sent to a bustling metropolis to attend a secondary school that you are certain is full of heirs and heiresses. You suspect that the teacher must be playing a particularly cruel joke on you.

There are all kinds of rumors going around about the middle-aged teacher. Some say he swore at a waiter at a restaurant, or that he s.e.xually hara.s.sed a young female teacher at the faculty conference. He is infamous for his rotten character. So it is no surprise you ask again, trying not to sound too accusatory.

“Maybe there was a mistake, sir?”

“You’re accusing me of making a mistake?” The teacher shoots back, his round belly trembling. He seems always to be on the verge of developing diabetes.

‘With your diet, yeah,’ you think to yourself, but you are not so clueless as to say so out loud at a time like this. And now that you think about it, this teacher also has a history of making spelling mistakes in cla.s.s.

You stay silent. The teacher continues.

“You will leave for the 4th Capital Secondary School next month on a four-week exchange program. You will be housed in the campus dormitories. This is not a joke; it is a message from the Ministry of Education.”

The Ministry of Education. Suddenly the joke stops sounding like one. Still hesitant, you ask what you must.

“Could I ask why?”

“No need, I’m telling you now. Have you ever heard of Ra Ze-Ohm?”

It is an unfamiliar acronym. You shake your head.

“It stands for ‘Republic of Raputoa Broader Horizons Student Exchange Program’, which was started last year. You wouldn’t know the details.”

It bothers you to have to nod at such a condescending comment, but you have little choice in the matter.

“The program’s aim is to allow the future pillars of Raputoan society to experience the advanced ways of the Capital District and broaden their horizons. Pah. It’s like the Ministry of Education isn’t even trying to hide that we’re an underdeveloped little country.”

“R-right…” You reply for response’s sake, but a part of you is outraged.

‘Who cares if Raputoa is in the countryside?’

The Republic of Raputoa, situated on the eastern bank of the Lutoni River between Roxche and Sou Be-Il, is a beautiful country with rolling plains, fields, and forests. Mother nature is mostly intact in Raputoa, unlike in other member states.

‘I like Raputoa, you old pig! Have some pride for your own country! Hold your head high, not your gut!’ You think, but say nothing.

The teacher continues to explain the program.

“The Ministry of Education sends one student every term—in spring and autumn—to the Capital District to try out their advanced facilities and curriculum, and to get a taste of life in the city. They want you to broaden your horizons, make new friends, and use the experience to make Raputoa a better place someday.”

The explanation continues.

“The program lasts for a month, but it can be extended so long as you do not make any trouble there. All expenses are paid for by the state—in other words, your tuition and dormitory expenses are all covered by the Republic. By your parents’ tax money. They are also granting you an allowance.”

“I see…”

Setting your anger aside, you muse to yourself about how lucky you are to be chosen for an all-expenses paid program.

“This term, the Ministry of Education chose this school. And this school chose you. Do you understand why?”

“What? No, sir.”

You shake your head again. You cannot think of a reason.

“How humble of you,” the teacher remarks snidely, “it’s because you have the highest grades in the entire school.”

Now that you think about it, he is right.

You never really think about it, but you have never not been at the top of your cla.s.s since starting here.

“Of course. Er…it’s an honor, sir,” you reply mechanically, internally br.i.m.m.i.n.g with excitement.

You do not dislike Raputoa, but in all your 14 years you have never once visited the Capital District.

The Republic of Raputoa is situated at the western tip of the Roxcheanuk Confederation. Geographically, it is closer to the land west of the river—the Allied Kingdoms of Bezel-Iltoa—than it is to the Capital.

You have, in fact, visited Sou Be-Il on a trip across the river in primary school.

You remember how the language they spoke at the Western primary school—Bezelese—was completely incomprehensible.

When Roxche was first formed, the Confederation strictly enforced the use of the standardized Roxchean language. That decision had its advantages, as anyone from anywhere in Roxche can now communicate without difficulty, but it also eliminated all foreign languages from the eastern half of the continent.

During the trip, you were fascinated by the first foreign language to reach your ears. And once you started attending secondary school, you always made sure to take Bezelese cla.s.s every term.

Because Raputoa is so close to the border, many people are keen on learning the language. And at times, a Bezelese-speaking teacher comes across the river to teach cla.s.ses.

The Capital District is very far removed from that life you live.

The Special Capital District is an area independent from all other member states. It is the center of Roxchean politics, economy, and culture. Though there is no cla.s.s or caste system in Roxche anymore, it is where the president, politicians, and the richest of the rich—in other words, the upper cla.s.ses—reside.

Black-and-white photographs of the Capital District come flooding into your mind.

What kind of people will you meet attending secondary school in such a city?

Your stay will be a short one, but you begin to imagine studying, befriending, and having fun with students in the Capital District.

The teacher catches you grinning.

“Never had stupid programs like this when I was your age… Tch. If they have the budget to spare, they could have fixed up our building…” He grumbles, “try not to get bullied by the rich Capital District students. And try not to let your Raputoan show, if that’s even possible.”

Why is this teacher taking out his anger on you?

You think for a moment and find an answer.

‘You’re jealous of me!’ You think, absolutely convinced, but manage to swallow the thought before it leaves your mouth.

“Hey, is it true?”

You have just accepted the offer for the program, signed and sent in the forms, and received the official acceptance letter—

“How’d you know?”

—When the entire school suddenly seems to be informed.

You do not know who leaked the information, or if the school itself was responsible for the leak (no doubt for promotion, if true).

“Wow! Lucky!”

“Bring back some souvenirs, eh?”

“Take me along in your suitcase!”

“Don’t turn delinquent on us in the Capital District!”

“Don’t suffocate on the exhaust!”

Your cla.s.smates bombard you with congratulations, requests, and warnings.

“An entire month chilling in the Capital District? That’s ridiculous! What gives?”

And some jealousy as well.

Meanwhile, your parents pause in shock when you break the news—

“That’s wonderful, honey. Have fun.”

But they give you more support than anyone else. And—

“Isn’t it wonderful that the government is covering all the expenses?”

You expected nothing less from your parents.

The tenth month goes by in a flash as you prepare to leave.

You receive a thorough health examination at a nearby hospital.

It is your first time getting an examination that lasts an entire half-day. The results could potentially break your chances of going, but thankfully the doctor gives you the green light.

You receive the money you need for the program.

You almost wonder if the Ministry of Education made a mistake when you look at the amount on the money order.

You are tempted to immediately deposit half into your savings account, but when you hear that the cost of living is much higher in the Capital District, you set the thought aside.

You will have to buy your own school supplies. And since you are getting the chance to live in the Capital District, you will need spending money—and quite a bit of it.

You go back into town and buy a suitcase.

The store has many on display, but you are only allowed to bring one. You buy the biggest you can carry.

The program information package arrives.

The package includes brief warnings and things of note, but also an informational pamphlet on the 4th Capital Secondary School, which you will attend for a month.

“What the heck…?”

You are overwhelmed.

The pamphlet itself is cause for shock. It is printed in full color—a luxury unheard of for schools in Raputoa. You wonder if all primary school students in the Capital District get glimpses at their options from pamphlets like this.

There are no other secondary schools in your area, so you never had a choice to begin with. It is almost impossible to imagine getting a choice of schools at all.

Another cause for shock is the area around the campus. Five-story apartment buildings stand like a forest around it. You have never seen so many similar buildings cl.u.s.tered together in one area.

It is completely different from your secondary school, which stands in a field where the horizon is visible, is an hour away from home on foot, and dense with insects at night. All they seem to have in common is the label ‘secondary school’.

The school itself is, of course, no less spectacular.

A paved intersection sits before the gates, with expensive cars parked by the curb.

The intersection is about three times wider than the dirt-paved crossing at the local station, where old buses spout black smoke as they idle.

This must be from a movie, you tell yourself. You spot a car with a long body, reminiscent of a dachshund. Someone must have made a mistake when they were developing the photo, you a.s.sume.

The buildings are magnificent. If the pamphlet didn’t label it as such, you would never guess that it is a school at all.

The student cafeteria by the central gardens are almost too splendid for your sensibilities. It looks like what you picture to be a five-star restaurant at a luxury hotel.

The foods featured look expensive and mouth-watering. Even the plates are clearly not cheap. It almost feels like a punishment game that you would have to eat here every day.

The dormitory you will stay at is large enough to rival the entire school building in Raputoa, and better-equipped to boot.

The photos of the rooms, and the description which states that each room is fully furnished and houses one student, leads you to think that the dormitory was originally a hotel that has been refurbished by the school. That is the only reasonable answer you can think of.

Phone booths are lined up in the lobby of the dormitory building, about 30 in all. In Raputoa, your area has a grand total of three public phones, none of them equipped with a booth. You often line up before the phones waiting endlessly for your turn, which makes the photo seem even more otherworldly.

You close the thick pamphlet.

Your mind goes blank.

“Aha hah hah!”

And laughter escapes your lips.

You will live in this strange, foreign world for an entire month. The thought excites you.

“G.o.ds bless Raputoa!” You cry, jumping onto bed. But you lose your footing and crash to the floor.

It hurts.

You leave for the Capital District on the 29th of the tenth month.

You begin the day by heading to school as you usually do. You greet the teachers and listen to their advice and warnings. The school even holds a small going-away party for you.

“Remember the pride of Raputoa and represent our school to your best efforts!” The headmaster says in a half-sob of joy. He even salutes, having grown up when conscription was still in effect. Even though it’s not as though you are going into battle.

Soon, the car from the Ministry of Education arrives.

You finally take the first step outside, to the Capital District.

“Come back alive, yeah?”

“Don’t forget! Be proud of your homeland!”

“Don’t pick fights even if they call you a hick!”

“Souvenirs! Souvenirs!”

“Don’t come back a Cappie, you hear me?”

“Yeah! We don’t need any Cappies around here!”

Your friends lean out the cla.s.sroom windows, waving and shouting. It is supposed to be cla.s.s time now. And what in the world is a Cappie, you wonder as you tilt your head.

“Thanks, everyone!” You reply, waving vigorously. Then you step into the car marked with the emblem of the Republic of Raputoa’s Ministry of Education. It is driven by a civil servant and not even close to being a recent model.

The seats are flat with use, clearly uncomfortable to sit on.

The car takes you home, giving you time to grab your suitcase and winter coat.

The coat is for the chilly weather to come over the next month. Inside the suitcase are extra uniforms and textbooks.

You wanted to take some of Raputoa’s specialty products, but because agricultural products cannot be transported freely, you instead opted for several books about the country.

During your stay in the Capital District, you are to wear your Raputoan school uniform.

On the left sleeve of your navy jacket is a large Raputoan flag, and your school emblem is embroidered over the left breast. The emblem of the Republic of Raputoa’s Ministry of Education is embroidered on the collar. Your tie is patterned with red and black checkers.

It is not as impressive as the uniforms you saw in the pamphlet for the 4th Capital Secondary School, but it is filled with your pride for your homeland. You are not cowed in the least.

All the emblems and flags does seem a bit much, however.

The uniforms at the Capital District school are all from luxury brands, each one tailor-made and astronomically expensive. It costs many times as much as one of your uniforms. Not even the Ministry of Education could fit one reasonably into the budget, so you are mandated to wear your own uniform. But you will be borrowing a set of school-issue sweats from the 4th Capital Secondary School.

As you set out, you say goodbye to your parents.

“Take care with the water, honey. I hear some of the taps are actually for liquor.”

“Have fun. Don’t get too homesick.”

Your parents worry over the most trivial things.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be fine,” you reply with a smile, getting back in the car.

The car starts. The village where you were born and raised disappears into the distance.

You have never left your home for so long in your entire life.

But you are neither nervous nor sad.

You are not nervous, but the trip is long.

First is the shaky eight-hour car ride.

Other than during the brief lunch break, you are traveling continuously across the Republic of Raputoa. The familiar fields and the horizon continue as far as the eye can see.

You s.h.i.+ft around many times during the ride. The b.u.mpy dirt roads and the flat seats hurt your b.u.t.tocks.

The driver advises you to roll up your coat to use as a cus.h.i.+on. You follow his advice and immediately feel the difference.

Around evening, you arrive at Raputoa City—the national capital.

Raputoa City is the largest city in the republic. It is your first time here as well. Just the sight of high-rise buildings past the dusky horizon sends your heart aflutter.

You see an airport for the first time in your life.

Raputoa International Airport, situated on the outskirts of the city. It is the largest airport in the area, and because of its proximity to the border it is also often used by Sou Be-Il airlines.

Two long runways run side-by-side on the wide-open s.p.a.ce. Large cake-shaped fuel tanks lie on the pavement.

In spite of the word ‘port’ in the word ‘airport’, there is no s.h.i.+p in sight. You are awestruck.

And you finally get a glimpse at something you have only seen in books—an aeroplane, or specifically, several of them.

How does something shaped like that fly, you wonder to yourself. You still do not understand when one of the aeroplanes rumbles loudly as it takes off into the air.

You spend the night at a lodging in the airport.

You are forced to share a room with six other guests, but you cannot afford to use precious tax money on luxuries. But because everyone has a bed to themselves, you enjoy a good night’s sleep.

You even get the chance to speak with some of your roommates before you go to bed. They are scheduled to board the same flight, and are surprised first by your youth and then by the fact that you are a government-funded scholars.h.i.+p student.

From the way your roommates dress, you guess that aeroplane tickets must cost a fortune, and then some.

The next day. The 30th.

The weather is great again. It is a perfect day for flying.

The aeroplane takes off on time early in the morning.

The aeroplane sparkles, sunlight glinting off the engine on each wing.

Someone says that this is the latest model, but you do not know what about the aeroplane exactly is better than the rest. All you know is that the fishlike body of the plane is very impressive.

You climb the stairs as instructed and enter the round cabin. It is completely different from the rectangular interior of the local buses.

When the engines start, the aeroplane rumbles. You remember hearing about how loud the engines could get, but this goes beyond anything you have ever expected. You begin to understand why earplugs are provided.

And, for the first time in your life, you fly.

The aeroplane glides gracefully into the air and gives you a glimpse from a whole new angle.

The large city grows smaller in the distance and disappears.

The plains are aglow with the orange light of dawn. It is beautiful. And when the sun rises fully, the sky and the ground change colors, never giving you time to get bored of the scenery.

You cling to the window and watch the world pa.s.s by until landing.

The aeroplane lands once to refuel and give pa.s.sengers time for food and a short walk. You do not think you will ever get tired of watching the ground draw near and then grow distant again.

You want to keep staring out the window, but soon the world below is obscured by cloud cover.

You sit in your seat with nothing to do, and eventually sleep takes over. You open your eyes to the vibrations of the aeroplane landing.

Your second landing. You are just outside the Capital District.

“Ah, we’re here. Welcome to the Capital District,” the pa.s.senger next to you says, to your disbelief.

But when you disembark, you can disbelieve no longer. Until that morning you were in the Republic of Raputoa, surrounded by its green horizons. But now, in the evening, you are staring at countless high-rises and apartments in the distance.

“Aeroplanes are terrifying…” You mumble, standing on the airstrip.

“You say that now?” Another pa.s.senger quips.

Two men from the 4th Capital Secondary School are waiting for you at the airport.

Both are in their thirties, but one looks friendly and the other decidedly less so. The friendly one introduces himself as a teacher and flashes his ID. When you internally wonder who the other man is, the teacher explains.

“This is our bodyguard. The school hired him for our safety.”

You are floored.

“I’m just a secondary school student from Raputoa, sir. I’m no one important.”

“Yes, we understand. But sometimes kidnappers strike arbitrarily, so we can never be too careful.”

You want to go back.

This is the first and last time during you trip that the thought crosses your mind.

The teacher takes you to a s.h.i.+ny, st.u.r.dy-looking car.

There isn’t a speck of dust on the car, and the tires do not smell of horse dung. The trunk is large enough for your suitcase, and then three of you on top of that.

But there is no school emblem or marking on the car. When you point that out, the teacher explains.

“Yes, the car is not marked because any emblems might make us a target for kidnappers or attackers.”

You take hesitant steps into the car.

The back seat is made of luxurious leather. Soft, but not too soft. Your b.u.t.tocks would never get sore on this seat, you think to yourself.

“We’re heading off now. Please put on your seatbelt.”

You do as you are told and notice something.

That you have never heard a teacher say ‘please’ to a student before.

The car seems to glide its way out of the airport. Soon, you enter the Special Capital District.

And everything comes into view.

Six-lane streets paved to perfection. And sidewalks lining the streets.

The countless cars that manage to cause congestion in spite of the quality of the streets.

The endless streams of impeccably-dressed pedestrians at the crossing.

The jam-packed streetcars sweeping down the middle of the road, and the large buses—also packed—driving down the bus-only lanes.

The high-rises you cannot see the tops of without tilting back your head.

The fine infrastructure that must have cost countless Roxes from the Confederation government’s vaults.

The military base-sized train station, which is the last station in the line, and the department stores looming beyond it. The advertising balloons floating over the rooftops make them seem even more like military bases.

You are stunned into silence by the sights that fill your eyes.

For the first time in your life, you realize that there are some places in the world where the horizon simply is not visible.

By the time the car glides all the way to the school, the sun has already set.

But the streetlights dotting the campus make the night a brighter one than you have ever seen in your hometown. It feels strange to see the lights lined up at regular intervals.

“You must be exhausted. Here, let me carry your suitcase.”

You step through the gates, leaving your suitcase to the teacher.

To your surprise, stationed at the gates is a security guard armed with a gun. You must show him your student ID to enter. The teacher had handed you yours in the car—without the ID, you cannot enter the premises. You resolve to put a lanyard on your ID.

The intersection and the luxurious school facilities are all exactly as you remember from the pamphlet. There was no lie, exaggeration, or manipulation in the photos.

The streetlights on campus cast warm orange light onto the buildings.

“We’ll give you a briefing tomorrow, so please get some rest. This building will be your home for the next month.”

The building the teacher brings you to, as with the rest of the school, looks exactly as it did in the photos.

Two boys are chatting by the entrance. They are the first students you have seen at the 4th Capital Secondary School. They are around your age, or a little older.

They are wearing identical school-issue sweats. The sweats are green like the uniforms, with lines running down the arms and legs and the school emblem embroidered over the right breast. You are excited to try on such an elegantly-designed outfit.

When the students spot the teacher, they greet him. They seem completely calm.

“Good evening, boys. Is the dormitory cafeteria emptying out about now?” The teacher asks.

“Perfect timing, sir. There isn’t even a line at this point,” one of the students replies.

And as expected, their eyes then fall on you.

“G-good evening,” you say.

The teacher introduces you to the boys.

“This is ———, an exchange student from the Republic of Raputoa who will be staying with us for the next month. Could you believe ——— was just in Raputoa, all the way by the Lutoni, until this morning? Aeroplanes are making the world a better place.”

“Wow, cool,” one of the boys says. They seem to know about the exchange program.

You brace yourself for what they will say next. But the first thing out of the boy’s mouth is—

“I recommend the beef stew today! It’s really good!”

Your eyes turn to dinner plates. The boys burst out laughing.

“Welcome to the 4th Capital Secondary School!”

“Thank you!” You reply.

The next day. The 1st day of the eleventh month.

You open your eyes in your dorm room, feeling refreshed. It is your first morning at the 4th Capital Secondary School.

Last evening, you were floored by the sheer size and scale, and the incredible quality of the dormitory cafeteria, before being kindly led all the way to your room by the matron. You soon fell asleep in the room, which was heated 24 hours a day.

The first thing you see in the morning is the school grounds, and the veritable forest of apartment buildings beyond. You almost feel like the window is a ma.s.sive framed painting.

You wish you had a camera with you. You want to share this incredible view with your cla.s.smates and your family.

But you cannot possibly afford such a thing. Your family does not have one, and even your school only has a few.

Excited and disappointed at the same time, you have breakfast at the dormitory cafeteria. The selection and the quality of the food seem to have come straight out of a hotel, though you have never been to one before.

Though there are other students around you, you are alone. Which is natural, as this is your first day here. But there are surprisingly many other students eating alone.

Thankfully for you, eating alone does not seem to be uncommon here.

The teacher from last night comes to get you at the dorms and gives you a detailed tour of the campus. He points out all the facilities and provisions as he guides you through the ma.s.sive school, and you take detailed notes while drawing a map.

For a moment you wonder where you could buy school supplies, but when the teacher explains that most school supplies are available at the campus store, you breathe a sigh of relief.

You have lunch at the dormitory cafeteria before meeting with an advising teacher at the faculty office.

First, the advisor asks you how far your studies have come along in Raputoa. You recite your current progress for all your subjects.

But immediately, you feel anxious.

“Do I have to take a test, by any chance?”

“This is the test,” the advisor chuckles, “and you’ve pa.s.sed with flying colors.”

The advisor suggests what courses you should take, pointing out cla.s.ses that would let you continue your studies from Raputoa without overlapping. Some of the cla.s.ses are for third-years, you point out nervously, but—

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine,” the advisor a.s.sures you. Before you know it, you are holding your completed timetable.

That evening, you return to your room and write to your parents and your cla.s.smates.

‘I’ve arrived safely at the Capital District. I will study hard and make many friends whom I can keep in touch with even after I return home. I will write again next week.’

Eight days later, on a weekend afternoon.

You sit at your desk, staring at the blank piece of paper meant to be a letter to your parents.

“I…haven’t made any friends…” You agonize, head in your hands.

Your week went by in a flash.

Cla.s.ses began on the 2nd day of the 11th month.

You went to cla.s.s in a clearly different uniform. People stared, but did not come to speak with you or try to make friends with you.

You had forgotten that the 4th Capital Secondary School was home to more students than your own school.

The students at the 4th Capital Secondary School did not pay much attention to others on campus, and were not particularly concerned about you. And the morning rush was another matter altogether; you almost suffocated in the crowds, to which rush hour back in your hometown did not hold a candle.

In your first cla.s.s, the teacher introduced you.

“This is ———, an exchange student from the Republic of Raputoa who will be studying with us for the next month. Please get along.”

And you introduced yourself as well, but your cla.s.smates did not surround you during break out of curiosity or anything of the sort. All they did was speak with you for group exercises. It was completely different from your own school, which received perhaps one transfer student a year and each new student received the full attention of the entire student body.

During breaks, you had to move to a different cla.s.sroom and the campus was so large you never had time to talk with your cla.s.smates.

The cla.s.ses themselves were much harder than in Raputoa.

You could not help but be impressed by the teachers and students at the 4th Capital Secondary School. It was hard for you to match their pace, but the lessons themselves were very enjoyable.

And so, the week went on.

Every day, you woke up, had breakfast, went to cla.s.s, had a delicious lunch at the incredible dormitory cafeteria, went to afternoon cla.s.s, and returned to your room or the library to study—alone.

Being alone did not bother you. Many other students often kept to themselves. You were doing a fine job of studying in the Capital District, doing exactly as the program guidelines dictated.

Yesterday was the first day of the weekend, so you took a walk around the area. You just walked and walked because you did not want to spend money.

It was fun getting a look at the endless rows of apartment buildings and the streets around campus, but naturally you were completely alone.

“I can’t write anything…”

You bragged to everyone that you would make many friends. But you can not lie to them. You do not know what to do.

Finally, you manage to write, ‘at first the cla.s.ses were so hard I had to study the whole time. But now that I’ve gotten used to the pace, I’m going to get out there and make friends’, packaging the cold truth as nicely as you possibly can.

The next day. The 10th day of the eleventh month.

At lunchtime, you finish your food quickly and visit the advisor to discuss your situation.

“I see. First off, I’m glad you aren’t having any trouble keeping up with cla.s.ses. That’s one of the biggest issues exchange students struggle with. I expected nothing less from you,” the advisor says, “now, it’s not uncommon for students here to have a hard time making friends. There are so many people here that sometimes it takes first-year students half a year to really connect with someone. But you don’t have that kind of time, so…”

The teacher makes a suggestion that completely changes the next three weeks of your life.

“…How about joining a club?”

“Is that even possible?” You ask. You a.s.sumed that your stay was not long enough to allow you to join a club.

“You certainly can. I’m sorry, I should have told you,” the advisor says, and takes out a list of all the clubs in the school.

There was a list of clubs on the pamphlet you received earlier, and you looked at each and every one. But you never really considered them carefully because you never thought you would be able to join one.

Appropriately enough considering the large student population, there are many clubs at the 4th Capital Secondary School. Your interest is particularly piqued by the fencing club, the car racing club, the billiards club, the bowling club, the Capital District history research club, the teddy bear-making club, and the creative cooking club, among others.

“Were you in a club back in Raputoa?” The advisor asks.

“No, because I had to help out at home during the busy farming season. A lot of my cla.s.smates are in the same boat, so our school doesn’t have a strong tradition of club activities,” you confess. The advisor seems to sense the difference in culture.

“I understand. Shall we have a close look at the clubs, then? The athletic clubs might be a bit difficult if you don’t have any prior knowledge.”

You agree.

You walk almost 10 kilometers to school every day and are confident in your stamina, but you have never been called athletic. Your marks in physical education are lower than the rest.

“How about one of the liberal arts clubs? Do any of them look interesting?”

You scan the list.

Everything seems at least a little interesting, but that makes it even harder to decide. You scan faster.

“Hm?”

And you spot a certain club at the bottom of the list.

“Huh.”

The club was not listed on the pamphlet you received earlier. You are quite confident in your memory.

You think for a moment, and—

“Er, about this club,” you say, “the newspaper club. It sounds interesting. What does it do exactly?”

Part 2: You Head to the Newspaper Club

It is after cla.s.s. You are standing at the door to the newspaper club’s office.

The halls and the first floor of the cla.s.sroom building, which is closed in the evenings, are deserted. Though cla.s.ses only just ended, it is strangely quiet.

Before you knock on the door, you recall what happened at lunchtime.

“The newspaper club…” The advisor trailed off, as though having stumbled upon a historical site in the middle of construction.

In other words, the construction could not happen unless the historical site was covered up, but that was no longer possible.

But the advisor still answered your question.

“The newspaper club was only recently recognized as an official club.”

It was a vague answer, but you couldn’t tell why. Still, you a.s.sumed it would be easier to join a club that had only recently been formed.

“So that’s why it wasn’t on the pamphlet. What does the club do?”

“They publish newspapers to post on the walls around campus. It’s a student-oriented newspaper by students and for students.”

It sounded wonderful to you. Your school had a teacher on newsletter duty, but no newspaper written from the students’ perspective.

“But they only have six members at the moment.”

“That’s amazing,” you breathed. It sounded very exclusive. The six students must have been a tight-knit group.

“The president is a rather famous girl in her third year…”

“Ah, a charismatic president?”

It was surprising that the club was led by someone famous in such a big school. Not only that, she was not even close to being in her sixth year, as many club presidents tended to be.

It sounded fun.

You decided that you would spend the few weeks you had left in the Capital District with the newspaper club.

You asked the advisor how to sign up for the club. Normally a student would have to speak to the supervisor, but the advisor suggested something different.

“You should go visit their office first. Get to know the members before you officially sign up.”

You wondered if you really didn’t need to speak to the supervisor first, but the advisor said it was all right.

So you concluded that the president of the newspaper club was trusted so completely by her supervisor that she was given full authority over the club. You began to admire the president even more.

After thanking the advisor, you looked around the halls, hoping to find the newspaper club’s latest issue, but found none in sight.

Instead, you spotted the results of the recent Orienteering Day compet.i.tion.

You briefly scanned the results—an orienteering compet.i.tion was unthinkable for your own school—when you spotted something.

“Ah!”

The newspaper club had clinched a spectacular victory, according to the poster, beating the ski club (with their inherent advantage) by a single second. You were even more fired up to join this club.

Heart pounding, you finished afternoon cla.s.ses and came straight to the newspaper club. And now you stand at the door.

“All right!”

You steel yourself so as to make a good impression, and fix your tie.

Knock knock knock knock.

You knock four times.

There is no answer.

You knock again, just in case, but no one seems to be in. Perhaps you are too early, or perhaps the club is taking the day off today.

There is no point in waiting at the door.

You decide to return to your room. You would put away your things and come back again. Living on campus has its advantages.

You would have to go all the way to the other side of the ma.s.sive campus, but it is no difficult task. You are used to walking, and back in Raputoa a round trip between home and school would take you two hours.

As you walk down the hall, a girl comes from around the corner.

She is very tall, with her long brown hair tied up. She wears gla.s.ses with a black frame, and is carrying a bag and a large guitar case.

You pa.s.s her by. The girl casts you a glance, but continues walking.

You reach the end of the hall. As you turn the corner, you catch one last glimpse of the newspaper club office.

“Huh?”

And to your shock, you spot the guitar case going through the door. Specifically, you see the person carrying the case go inside.

“Is she in the newspaper club?”

The guitar case led you to think she was from a music club. You quickly rush back.

You come to a stop at the door, take a deep breath, and knock.

“Yes?”

This time, you hear a response.

Your jaw drops at the sheer opulence of the office.

Two comfy sofas, an expensive coffee table, a kitchenette with a hot plate, and a dish rack. And even a tea set.

On the desk in the corner is a typewriter in perfect condition. There is a cabinet, and next to it a darkroom for developing and printing photographs.

What shocks you most is the telephone.

Your family saved up for a long time to finally buy a telephone last year. And yet here is a telephone in the office of a secondary school club, as though it is the most natural thing in the world. At first glance you think it is a replica, but you soon realize that it is real.

Are all club offices in the 4th Capital Secondary School so magnificent, you wonder.

“Ah, an exchange student fro Raputoa?” The bespectacled girl sitting across from you muses curiously, “good on you for coming all this way.”

She talks almost like a boy, without a hint of reservation. But it is not irritating in the least.

The senior-cla.s.sman introduces herself as Natalia Steinbeck and listens to you explain your reasons for coming.

“Gotcha. Yeah, the chief’s not gonna turn you down.”

“What? Aren’t you the president, SC Natalia?” You ask, surprised.

“Whoa, do I look like one? Hah hah!” She laughs, embarra.s.sed.

Then she takes out an expensive-looking acoustic guitar and begins strumming. She seems to be in a good mood.

You listen curiously to the chords, when suddenly a voice joins in.

“The autumn~ is a lonely season~”

The door opens, and the voice becomes clear. It is a beautiful soprano.

You turn to find a girl with fair skin and dark hair tied in pigtails.

“The heart mourns and…huh?”

She freezes when she notices you. So does the sound of the guitar.

You and the pigtailed girl stare blankly at one another in surprise.

“Hey Megmica. This here’s an exchange student from Raputoa who wants to join us,” Natalia explains.

“Oh…I understand. Now I am so embarra.s.sed,” the girl covers her face in shame. Her p.r.o.nunciation and tone is slightly off, but she comes across as quite adorable.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Megmica! Just sing! Pour out your heart!”

Natalia strums again. The girl called Megmica turns and gives you a light bow.

“Good afternoon. My name is Strauski Megmica. I am a third-year student. I am a member of the newspaper club and the chorus club.”

You stand and introduce yourself as well. Then you ask, “excuse me, SC Strauski, but are you by any chance from Sou Be-Il?”

Natalia and Megmica seem surprised.

“How’d you guess, newbie?!”

“It is very surprising! It is true, yes.”

It is not hard to guess from her name, accent, and tone. But you do not say so.

“I am from the Republic of Raputoa, east of the Lutoni River. It is nice to meet you, SC Strauski. How are you?” You say in Bezelese. Megmica is pleasantly surprised.

“I’m really well, thanks! How about you?” She responds.

“I am fine as well. Thank you.”

“Your p.r.o.nunciation’s really good. Have you been learning Bezelese long?”

“Yes. I have been studying Bezelese for three years. Many students in the Republic of Raputoa are studying the language very hard. And I have visited Sou Be-Il just once, over the Lutoni River.”

“Wow! I’ve only seen the Lutoni from the mouth. I’m sure it must look so majestic, cutting across the continent.”

“Yes. It is a very big, motherly river.”

“MOONTONGUE!” Natalia interjects with a chord.

At the same time, the door opens.

“Hey there! Oh, is this a guest?”

“Good afternoon. Hm?”

“…”

Three boys enter the office.

“Hey! Get some tea for the guest!” Natalia orders one of the boys, without even giving him time to sit.

“What were you doing all this time? I’ll teach you to brew your own tea later.”

You turn to the three boys. Megmica introduces them in Roxchean.

“They are all club members. This person with long hair is Nicholas Browning, called Nick. He is good in acting and swinging a staff.”

Nick looks very feminine.

At the annual harvest festival back home, some of the men cross-dress and take on the role of ghosts who spray water at people. But the point is that it is funny to see a hulking farmer dressed up as a woman. If Nick were to take on the role, it would not be nearly as hilarious. In fact, women might get jealous of his good looks. But what does Megmica mean by ‘swinging a staff’?

“And this person with black hair,” Megmica introduces everyone by their hair, making it easier to remember them, “is Seron Maxwell. He is very smart.”

If Nick is beautiful, Seron is cool and handsome. His slightly long black hair goes well with his grey eyes.

Something occurs to you at that point, but you do not know what.

“Last, the person with blond hair in the kitchen is Larry Hepburn. His tea is very good. He is also good in reading the map. We are all in the same year.”

Larry has a small but powerful build, much like the boys back home. Most of them are muscular because they help out with farm work at home. But what about Larry? Does his family also own a farm? It is a mystery.

And just like when you were introduced to Seron, something occurs to you again.

And you soon realize what it is.

You have seen Seron and Larry somewhere. Where? Seron looks at you, then.

“You’re the exchange student from Raputoa, right?”

“Yeah! I remember!” Larry adds from the kitchenette.

“Oh?” Nick raises a curious eyebrow.

“Oh my goodness!” Megmica cries, “how did you know? Did the uniform show you?”

The uniform is indeed a giveaway, with the Raputoan flag displayed proudly on the sleeve.

But you remember now that you met Seron and Larry at the dormitory entrance on your first day here.

“It was the evening of Orienteering Day. You came to the dorms with a teacher, right?” Seron asks.

“We were on our way back from the dormitory cafeteria,” Larry chimes in, “I recommended the beef stew.”

Both of them seem to remember you.

“Yes!” You reply, “thank you for the recommendation, The beef stew was very good. I order it every time I see it on the menu,” you say, and introduce yourself to the boys. You finish off by saying you want to join the newspaper club for the rest of your stay in the Capital District. You emphasize how you want to broaden your horizons and make new friends.

“Oh my, it is wonderful,” Megmica says, clasping her hands together.

“Sounds lovely,” Nick agrees with an elegant smile.

“Dunno who came up with the idea, but sounds good to me!” Larry pipes up from the kitchenette.

“Ah~ I see no reason to say no~” Natalia sings, strumming.

“Same,” Seron says.

“Th-thank you,” you say with a bow, moved. You are overjoyed. But something still bothers you. “Er…don’t I need the president’s permission?”

“Oh. She’s not here yet, but who cares? Tea ready yet, Larry?” Natalia waves off your concern. You are now even more curious.

“Er, what is the president like? I heard she was a famous third-year.”

“Hm…” Natalia sighs, falling into thought.

“She is a very very good person! And she is an uncommon, cool person!” Megmica comments first.

“She does have a petty side, but she is certainly fun to be around,” Nick adds.

“Yeah. She’s a weirdo, but basically a good person,” Natalia concludes.

Half the descriptions are unflattering. You wonder if Larry and Seron are keeping silent for a reason. And your guess is soon proven correct.

The door slams open.

“I heard that!”

A short girl with short red hair stomps inside. She is full of energy, the large leather bag on her back bouncing.

She must be the president, you note.

“Aw, chief. It’s not nice to eavesdrop,” Natalia scolds the girl. So she is indeed the president.

The president puts her bag on one of the desks and strides over to the sofa. She looks into your eyes just as you prepare to introduce yourself.

“An exchange student from Raputoa, huh. Interesting. Welcome to the Capital District.”

You miss your chance to stand, so you greet her from your seat.

“Thank you. Actually, I—”

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“Welcome to the club. I’m Jenny Jones, the president. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Th-thank you! Thank you so much, president! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, bowing your head.

“How long have you been listening, chief?” Natalia asks from beside you.

“A while. I wanted to know what you guys thought of me.”

“Don’t be such a naughty girl.”

“Eavesdropping is the foundation of information gathering. Thank you for all the compliments.”

“Now, now. Take a seat, chief. The tea’s ready.”

Before you know it, Seron and Megmica are preparing the teacups. They carefully arrange the cups on the coffee table.

“Erm! If there’s anything I can do—” you begin, but are interrupted.

“Don’t worry. Sit down and relax. We’re almost done,” Seron says.

He is both handsome and courteous, which means he is probably popular with the girls.

“It’s nice to have more cups on the table once in a while,” Larry says, pouring seven cups of tea with an expert hand.

You are not certain, but the cups and saucers seem very expensive. You must take care not to break them.

It seems that afternoon tea is part of a routine school day for the 4th Capital Secondary School. You expected no less from the upper cla.s.ses. You resolve to remember all this so you can tell everyone back home.

“Thank you.”

You take a sip of tea.

It is very good, no worse than the tea straight from the farms back in Raputoa. The Capital District impresses you once again.

And finally, you introduce yourself for the third time. You confess that you decided to join a club in order to make friends.

“It is a very good idea! I did this too!” Megmica says, being a transfer student.

They are all senior-cla.s.smen and can be a little strange—especially Jenny and Natalia—but you like them. They seem to be good people.

“Thank you. Oh, I have a question…” you begin, all eyes on you.

It is a very natural and inevitable question. A simple one you are sure will be answered very quickly.

“What do you have planned for your next issue?”

Everyone looks away.

“Huh?”

“Look at this, guys. Even the temporary newbie is more concerned than you!” Jenny roars.

“But it’s not like you have any ideas, chief. Non-fictional ones, I mean,” Natalia points out. She does not seem apologetic in the least.

“Let’s settle down, everyone. We had a very busy month, with midterms and Orienteering Day,” Nick says, calming the others down.

“Yes, we can decide on it now!” Megmica says optimistically.

“Yeah, the newbie got here just in time!” Larry agrees, encouraging you.

Seron, meanwhile, says nothing. He seems to be a quiet person to begin with.

“All right, then!” Jenny rises. “I’m now accepting suggestions!”

The others go silent in unison, with the exception of the already-silent Seron.

You understand the situation completely. They do not have anything to write about.

There probably isn’t much to cover in such a rich, peaceful school, you think.

Or maybe things you consider to be newsworthy are considered mundane here. Maybe that is the right answer.

You watch the others as they sip their tea.

“Ah!”

And you think of something.

It is a great idea. Divinely inspired, if you do say so yourself. You simply must share it with the others.

“Er…well…”

Six sets of eyes fall on you.

You tense, but make up your mind. You will never get another chance like this.

You take a breath, and suggest with a trembling voice—

“What about an issue that covers all the club members?”

Several seconds pa.s.s by in silence.

“Er…what exactly do you mean?” Larry asks. You now have the chance to explain yourself.

“You could publish short biographies of yourselves on the next issue, and show the school the faces behind the people who make the newspapers. With photographs, too! Then more people might cooperate with you and share information.”

“R-right…”

Larry’s reaction is underwhelming, but you a.s.sume that is because he is moved by your innovative idea.

Another moment of silence.

Maybe your idea wasn’t such a good one after all.

Jenny says nothing, and Natalia continues sipping tea, her gla.s.ses fogging. Nick’s smile is plastered onto his face, and Seron—as usual—looks completely blank.

It was a stupid idea, never mind, you are about to say, when someone finally breaks the silence.

“All right.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m fine with it,” says Jenny, “it’s not a bad idea.”

You and the others turn.

Jenny sits cross-legged on the sofa, kicking etiquette to the curb. Her underwear is almost showing, but she does not seem to are, and nor do the others. So you decide not to worry about it either.

“I didn’t really feel the need to discuss the people behind the scenes, but it’s not something we necessarily need to hide. And if we’re out of ideas, it’s better than nothing.”

“You serious, chief?” Natalia asks. She seems about 20 percent worried and 80 percent psyched, although you are not sure in what sense.

“Yeah. But on one condition.”

“Like?”

“I’m the president, so I take the desk.”

You have no idea what the role of ‘desk’ entails, but it presumably goes to the highest-ranking club member.

“My job is to oversee you all,” Jenny says. Your guess is correct, it seems. “In other words, there will be no article covering me.”

“What?! That’s cheap!” Natalia complains, jumping to her feet. “I want to tell the entire school about the pain and glory of your past, the pa.s.sion br.i.m.m.i.n.g in your heart, and your s.h.i.+ning future!”

You