Little Momiji from nearby Sendai, the big smoke the bright lights and Teddy's Diner. She's called Sayaka-chan but dyed her hair red once before and must have taken autumnal blush readily enough for her nickname as it survives to today, to the point I'm here.
Lately she's come downstairs to the teacher's room often, in tow with a grin from ear to ear and her shirt untucked or a shoelace trailing or a smudge of lipstick (prohibited) bruising her mouth. Earlier today she was tearing a folder, shredding the cover in the middle of a class. She's precisely the kind of kid whose name you end up knowing first (both of it) for all the outbursts and whinings and cackles she comes out with. She's also the kid who could figure it out if she was bothered, but seems to see through it all, straight through the worksheets and word tests and parroting, right through to fags and lifting her mum's kei-tai.
No comments:
Post a Comment