Free Normal by Francine Pascal

not a real knife cutting his shirt open.
    She always forgot to take fear into account. She forgot to translate into everyone else’s language.
    â€œJake,” Gaia said. She reached out and touched his sleeve. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt. I’m glad you were there, fighting with me.”
    Jake smiled. He seemed embarrassed—and then hesuddenly leaned forward. “Up here, driver,” he yelled. “That big brownstone.”
    They were on Bank Street already, Gaia saw. The taxicab cruised to a stop. She got the door open and climbed out, holding her box of clothes, while Jake paid the driver. She looked over at the brownstone.
    It wasn’t bad, Gaia thought. She had to admit it; her new home—the Collingwood Residency Hall (a fancy way of saying “boardinghouse,” she knew)—looked nice. It was an old-fashioned six-story brownstone with ornate columns, bright windows, and a wide set of stone steps that led up to a dark mahogany front door.
    But she didn’t want to be here. Another false home—another room with another bed, for a short while, until things changed again. Gaia thought about other high school students, who complained about going home to their parents’ houses, about rules they had to follow, about their annoying younger brothers and sisters. All they did was complain.
    But it didn’t sound so bad. To Gaia, it sounded like a dream come true.
    â€œCome on, Gaia!”
    Jake had the boxes from the trunk—he was already bounding up the steps, the boxes stacked up in his arms. Trying to look strong, Gaia thought. Like he wasn’t hurt—like he didn’t have a gash in his shirt and a big bruise on his bicep and dried blood all over his knuckles from the fight.
    The doorbell rang loudly, deep in the brownstone. Gaia heard footsteps clattering around and saw shadows moving on the curtains. She could hear voices approaching.
    Please don’t let this suck, she thought. Please let this be a halfway decent place.
    The door swung open.
    A tall, slender Japanese woman stood in the bright hallway. It was one of the cleanest, neatest spaces Gaia had ever seen. There was a dark hardwood floor and lemon yellow wallpaper. Gaia could hear footsteps pounding on the ceiling above; someone else was home.
    The woman wore a beige business suit over a white shirt with a tightly fastened collar. She was smiling ferociously.
    â€œGaia!” the woman said warmly. She had a very mild accent. “So good to meet you finally. I am Suko—Suko Wattanabe. Please, come in. So many boxes,” she added.
    â€œThanks,” Gaia said, forcing herself to smile. “I’m Gaia. This is Jake.”
    â€œHey.” Jake’s face was blocked by the boxes. He stepped forward.
    â€œNo, no,” Suko said quickly. She had raised a hand, as if warding off traffic. “I’m sorry; the rule here is that boys are not allowed.”
    Here we go, Gaia thought. Her heart was sinking. Here’s where it starts sucking. And I’m not even in the front door.
    â€œHe’s got to help me with the boxes,” Gaia said. “He can come in the front door, can’t he?”
    Suko smiled, but the smile didn’t affect her eyes—they stared back at Gaia, reflecting the orangy streetlights. “I’m sorry; the rule’s pretty strict,” she said—apologetically, as if it were all out of her hands. “Jason, just put the boxes down; one of the other girls will help.”
    Jake was putting the boxes down. Suko noticed the slit in his shirt and the dried blood then—she seemed startled. But she recovered fast, turning her smile back to Gaia. She put out her hand, very primly, to shake.
    Come on, Gaia, she told herself. Make this work.
    â€œHello, Ms. Wattanabe,” Gaia said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    Suko beamed. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gaia. I’m sure your stay