Impudence - Prologue

Nothing is as long lasting as a first impression.

It's not something that goes away just because you want it to.

We can try to change our ways.

We can try our best to be different people.

But when it comes down to it, it's impossible to wipe away the lingering effects of a first meeting.

Why is that?

There's actually a simple way to explain it.

During a first meeting, a human being can best be described as a blank sheet of paper.

The first time someone meets you, it's normal for them to have no idea what to expect.

Your potential is boundless.

You could be any kind of person that exists in this world.

After all, they don't know the real you. To them, you're just a blank piece of paper.

And that person's perception of you from then onward depends entirely on what you do with it.

Perhaps that piece of paper will become a beautiful drawing.

Maybe it's a report.

Or a long-winded essay about nothing.

A paper plane.

A job resume.

A love letter.

Or even… a suicide note.

But the truth is, no matter how we classify them, they're all just sheets of paper.

There's nothing special about them.

And yet still, it's possible for that single sheet to move people in ways that they've never been moved before.

It's the moment you meet your worst enemy.

Or the rose-colored meeting between you and the love of your life.

How you feel about someone is most likely going to be decided from the first time you meet them.

It's a stain you can never remove.

Or more accurately, inked-in words you can never erase.

That's why, regardless of how unfairly someone might treat you later, or regardless of how kind someone might seem in the future, it's hard to think differently of them for it.

After all, those first impressions are still inked deeply into that blank sheet of paper.

"She doesn't really hate me. I can tell that she truly cares deep down. Her humor is just a bit forceful, that's all."

"This teasing is just another joke. I'll grit my teeth and smile through it like last time."

"She might be insulting my intelligence, but it's just because she wants me to think more about what I say. I need to be careful with what I talk about around her now."

"Wow, she's so smart… I wish I could be as amazing as her. But… I'm just an idiot who'll be stuck in her shadow forever."

It didn't matter how much Jennifer Swift had hurt me.

She could have insulted my family to my face if she so wished it.

The fact that such a powerful girl had accepted and embraced me during our first meeting was enough.

I felt protected.

I felt important.

I felt loved.

In this school full of people I didn't know, the most influential girl in my year offered to take me under her wing.

And that blank piece of paper had quickly become a verse of worship.

All because of the girl I met in that bus.

..

…

….

Much like any other day, I boarded the bus when it had stopped during its journey to the school.

The atmosphere in there was as rowdy as always.

I couldn't help but wonder how the other students were so full of energy at such an ungodly hour, but I was probably just fatigued from not getting enough sleep that night.

I hadn't begun my workout routine at the time, so I wasn't quite adjusted to mornings yet.

In any case, once I'd boarded, I decided to scout for an empty seat inside of the bus.

It would not be as simple of a task as I'd initially thought, however.

After all, the only empty seats were next to male students.

Of all things…

The worst of it was that most of them seemed to be much older than I was.

Being faced with such a life-shattering dilemma during my first week of school made me feel worthless.

If I had made a friend by this point, then getting a seat on the bus would be no problem.

But unfortunately, I seemed to be having trouble.

The result of that was a terrible situation where I had no friend who could save me a seat on the bus.

I was ready to give up then and there.

There was nothing left for me to do but disembark the bus and head home.

However, even that would prove to be a fruitless effort.

The bus' engine had started up the moment the thought had crossed my mind.

It was much too late to turn tail and head home.

A cold sweat ran down my back.

It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe.

Hyper ventilation was becoming a very likely possibility.

I had no choice. I was going to have to hold it back for the entire trip.

Hopefully they wouldn't try talking to me, I thought.

Because if so, then I might have just had an attack on the spot.

"You're Scarlet, right?"

But before that could happen, I was called out by an unfamiliar voice.

Unfamiliar, yet feminine.

I quickly turned to the source and was greeted by two things.

An empty seat, and next to it, a black-haired girl who was holding what appeared to be a novel in her hand.

That's all it took for me.

If Jennifer Swift, who I'd met later that day was God herself, then the girl before me would be an angel in human flesh.

The bus finally taking off snapped me out of my daydreaming and forced me into a response.

"A-ah, yeah. That's me."

Without thinking too much about it, I had already hurried to take the seat beside her.

There wasn't much to think about, anyway.

This girl had saved me from a painful bus ride to school.

She was already my hero.

But still, I didn't know much about her.

Sure, she looked a bit familiar, but I had no idea where she knew me from.

"Umm, why do you know my name?"

Upon closer inspection, it appeared that she had been listening to music with her earphones, so I wasn't sure if she had heard my question.

I mean, her head was already buried in her novel even though she called out to me.

"Class introductions. We're in the same homeroom."

But despite my worrying, she answered me nonchalantly while turning the page.

I had to admit, while her disinterested way of speaking made her seem a bit rude, there was a part of me that found it alluring.

That introverted, cool-girl aesthetic of hers was quickly filling out the blank sheet of paper.

"A-ah, sorry. I don't remember it that well. What's your name again?"

"Momoka Kudo. I sit behind you."

Seated behind me. It certainly explained why she remembered my name, but I couldn't help but feel embarrassed for not recognizing her sooner.

That's so careless of me, I thought.

My conscience got the best of me. I felt bad.

I needed to make up for this faux pas quickly.

Perhaps it was time to make conversation.

"Soo, what are you reading?"

"Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, not to be confused with, but named after the song Norwegian Wood by The Beatles."

"Huuuh…"

A part of me wondered why she expected me to know about songs from a band as ancient as The Beatles, but I couldn't help but be interested in the book.

Just from looking at her, I could tell that she was deeply immersed in its story. I'm not the biggest reader, but I couldn't help but wonder what kind of world she was so deeply rooted into right now.

"So um, what's it about?"

At my words, the girl named Momoka Kudo turned to examine my face.

I'm not sure what exactly she seemed to be looking for.

Perhaps she was trying to discern whether I was actually interested in knowing or if I was merely making conversation.

In any case, after a few seconds of staring me down, she looked back down at her book.

"It's a dark coming of age story about two people who can't properly function in society due to the loss of their mutual friend. It's a rather solemn tale of mental illness, sexuality and romance, but… I find it to be an entertaining read."

"Sounds rough… How is it so far?"

Momoka stared back up at my face.

"You really are interested, aren't you?"

"Ahaha. To be honest, not really. I'm more interested in how interested you are. I mean, it must be really good if you're that into it right?"

"Not particularly. I've read this book countless times already. I'm only doing this to pass the time."

Reading a book countless times was a foreign concept to me. I could barely get myself to read one normally.

Though, it wasn't something I was completely unfamiliar with.

"Ahaha, I kinda get what you mean. Sometimes I rewatch Toy Story 3 before I go to bed just to get those feelings back. It's such an amazing movie…"

"Heh, Toy Story huh?"

"Ah-"

Feeling a bit embarrassed about admitting that, I quickly turned my head away while my face was presumably a bright red.

Oh the shame… Why such a good movie needed to have a childish name like "Toy Story", I'll never know.

Either way, I felt extremely uncomfortable admitting that I did such a thing often.

Here she was, talking about an adult novel and I come waltzing in and talking about Toy Story.

I couldn't help but think that I was a joke for doing something like that.

"You're real precious, aren't you?"

"Wha- are you making fun of me?!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. I just think you have surprisingly good taste in films. I happen to be a fan of Toy Story myself."

"Huh… really?"

"Mhm. I think America's pushing of the animation industry is something to be marveled at. Toy Story 1 was the first feature-length film to be completely animated in 3D. That a single company had pushed not only 2d animation so far but even 3d… Disney was in a league of their own in the 20th century. In fact, America pushed entertainment in general far beyond what people around the world could understand during that entire century. From the different musical genres surfacing throughout those years like Jazz, Rock, Disco and Hip Hop, to Hollywood pushing films into new territories by not only implementing both color and sound, but also through special effects and all the new narrative techniques…"

Momoka looked like she would go on for a while about the entertainment industry in America, but she stopped herself when she realized what was going on. She must have thought she was rambling.

The silence did give me a chance to speak up, however.

"Have you always lived in America?"

"Hmm? Is it because I'm Asian?"

"N-no, just… the way you're talking about it, it feels like you haven't."

"Ah, I guess so."

It's definitely strange to speak so highly about one's own country without being even remotely prompted to, but I decided not to pry further. Everyone has their own circumstances after all.

"I suppose I just appreciate the culture. Even this book, which was originally written in Japan was heavily inspired by American music and literature. I suppose though, Americans are only this good at entertaining others because we're so bored with our own lives."

"Mm, well… My favorite films are all American so I can kinda relate."

"You like movies, huh?"

"Love them! I could spend hours just marveling at the sequences and the acting in some of my favorites! From Disney movies to Steven Spielberg stuff, there's so many iconic films that…"

Our conversation continued in a similar fashion for the rest of the bus ride.

It was a strange thing for me.

Scarlet Sterling was timid quiet girl, so scared of the world that she couldn't even hold a conversation with a member of the opposite gender.

Yet here she was, spilling her guts out about her favorite movies to someone she had just met.

To put it simply, it's the power of a first impression.

The power of filling that blank sheet of paper with positive words.

Momoka Kudo made herself someone that I could drop my guard around.

She made herself into someone I could respect.

And, most of all, she made herself into someone I could trust.

Which is why that betrayal ended of hers hurt me more than I could ever care to admit.

The smooth vibrations of the car driving over asphalt.

The wind against my face.

The older woman in the driver's seat.

After recounting those memories from a month ago, I'm brought back to the present time.

It's Monday morning, and my mom and myself are currently headed into a rundown neighborhood in order to pick up the guest of honor.

I stare down at the sheet of paper in my hand.

The words printed on it are only an address.

The address of a boy in my class.

They only tell me where he lives so this sheet of paper shouldn't mean much…

But to me, those words mean so much more than that.

After all, he's…