The Twelve Kingdoms: Shadow of the Moon

shunning Sugimoto had become the sport of those in that class who mattered. Sugimoto stared back for a moment, a deer caught in the headlights, then shuffled over to where Youko was standing. She sat down at the desk to her left.
    "Good morning, Youko," she said.
    She spoke politely. Youko started to answer, only as a reflex, then choked off her reply. Once, not long ago, she had inadvertently exchanged pleasantries with Sugimoto. Afterwards her classmates had piled scorn upon her.
    So she said nothing, acted as if Sugimoto weren't there at all. The other girls began to titter. Sugimoto bowed her head but did not look away. Youko felt her eyes on her. To hide her discomfort she made a show of engaging in the patter of conversation.
    She might feel sorry for Sugimoto, but go against the rest and the next time she'd be "it."
    "Um . . . Youko?"
    Youko pretended not to hear. She knew what she was doing was heartless but she could not comprehend any other recourse.
    Sugimoto persisted. "Youko," she said.
    The conversation stopped. As one, the circle gathered around Youko's desk turned its attention on the girl. Youko could not fail to follow suit and found herself meeting Sugimoto's upturned gaze.
    "Did . . . did you finish the math assignment?"
    The timidity in the girl's voice launched the circle into another fit of giggles.
    Youko struggled for an appropriate response. "I . . . sort of, I guess."
    "Could you let me see it, please?"
    The math teacher always assigned a student to explain the previous night's homework assignment. It occurred to Youko that Sugimoto's turn was coming up today. She glanced around the circle. No one said a thing. They answered her with the same hard looks they reserved for Sugimoto. Youko understood at once that they were waiting to see how she was going to rebuff Sugimoto's plea.
    Youko swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "I . . . I still need to check it over for mistakes."
    The roundabout refusal did not impress her companions. "Oh, Youko," one of them piped up, "you're such a pushover."
    A voice filled with disapproval and reproach. Youko cringed inside. The rest of the group chimed in.
    "You've got to be more direct than that, Youko."
    "She's right. A person in your position can't leave any room for doubt."
    "Else you'll end up surrounded by idiots who can't take no for an answer."
    Youko had no idea what to do. She lacked the courage to openly betray their expectations. At the same time, she lacked the disciplined indifference required to hurl at the girl the kind of words they wanted to hear. Finally she responded with a nervous laugh.
    "I'm sure . . . . "
    "It's true! You're too nice all the time. That's why nobodies like her are always glomming onto you."
    "But I'm class president."
    "That's why you've got to stick to your guns. You've got real responsibilities, after all. You can't get distracted by every pest that comes along."
    "I suppose."
    "That's right." A thin, wicked smile creased the girl's lips. "Besides, if you give Sugimoto your notes, she'll get them all . . . dirty ."
    "Yeah, you wouldn't want that."
    The circle dissolved into another round of vicious mirth. Youko joined in the laughter. But not before she noticed out of the corners of her eyes the girl's bowed head, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
    It's her fault too , she instructed herself. People like her don't get picked on for no reason. There's always a reason. They bring it on themselves.

Chapter 3
    W ithin the infinite dusk there was no heaven, no earth. Only the high, hollow sound of each falling drop of water. In every direction she could see the thin, crimson glow, the writhing shadows, the strange beasts galloping towards her.
    Less than two hundred yards separated them. Their sheer size collapsed the distance further. There was a monkey amongst the menagerie, its mouth agape in silent, raucous laughter, its fur glistening in the red light . . . it was so close that with each leap and bound she could see the flex and draw of sinew and muscle.
    She stood rooted, dumb and immobile. As much as she tried to avert her gaze she could only watch the cavorting menagerie. The smell of death was thick on the wind and it choked her.
    I must wake up.
    She had to rouse herself from the dream before they reached her. Even as she repeated the mantra to herself, she couldn't think of any way to do so. If will alone was enough, she would have done it already.
    While she stood there helplessly the distance between