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Every Saturday, at the end of classes, Sachi would ask again. He knew Kado’s vague promise that they would “do something sometime” was a formality, but Sachi didn’t care. He was going to hold him to it. Sachi knew he had a tendency to grasp at straws when he was desperate, but that was all he had. And he wasn’t going to give up on Kado without trying as hard as possible to get through.

So every Saturday, he asked. Did Kado want to grab food, go for a walk, see a movie? And Kado always turned him down. He was too busy, he wasn’t feeling well. He slipped out of class fast enough that Sachi couldn’t always catch him. On one particularly desperate day, Sachi actually chased him down. When he grabbed Kado’s arm in the hallway and the slight boy whipped around in horror, Sachi shriveled back, his request dying in his throat. He’d pushed too hard. And Kado was freed from Sachi’s pestering for a week while Sachi burned with embarrassment.

But one Saturday in eighth grade, Sachi saw his opening. Kado’s backpack zipper was broken. Sachi had noticed Kado’s unzipped bag earlier that week and had mentioned it, and Kado, not making eye contact, had mumbled something about it no longer working. Sachi had sneakily watched Kado pack up every day, his frustration growing as safety pins pulled free and his books spilled onto his desk. When Saturday arrived and Kado’s backpack was held closed with a handmade hole and a freaking carabiner, Sachi moved in on his brand-new straw.

Sachi waited for the half day of classes to end. His foot twitched anxiously on the floor until the bell rang. Sachi leapt from his chair and brushed his notebook and pencils into his bag with pre-meditated ease. He flew to the back of the room, a smile rising to his face as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

But that day, of all days, he didn’t need to rush. Kado was still at his desk, frowning as he stared at a stack of stapled papers in his hand.

Sachi blinked. The way Kado stared at those papers piqued Sachi’s interest. He tried to read past Kado’s fingers.

The page was filled with neat handwriting on genkou youshi. Kanji in bright red ink adorned the top margin.

Is that an assignment? Sachi wondered.

Kado’s head suddenly snapped up. He flipped the papers over and slapped them back on his desk.

Sachi paused. Kado’s dark eyes, suspicious and careful, burned through Sachi before dropping to the floor.

“Do you need something, Ishida-san?” he murmured.

Sachi forced himself to smile again. When Kado looked at him like that, he felt compelled to follow the boy’s wishes and leave him perpetually alone.

But he wouldn’t. Don’t back down, Sachi ordered himself. It’s easier. But don’t.

“I just…wanted to know if you wanna hang out this afternoon,” Sachi said as brightly as he could. “Since it’s Saturday.”

“I have to study,” Kado answered automatically.

Sachi gestured to Kado’s backpack. “You don’t need to get a new bag?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Sachi frowned at the carabiner. “Is it?” he pressed.

“Yes.” Kado crammed the stack of papers into his gaping backpack. He clipped the carabiner into the manmade hole and slid his arms into the straps.

Perhaps he did it too suddenly, because the carabiner tore through the hole with a loud rip. The backpack sagged open, sending half of its contents to tumble to the floor.

Kado sucked at his teeth angrily. When he dropped to collect the books, Sachi dropped with him.

“It’s okay,” Kado clipped. “I’ve got it.”

Sachi ignored him. He helped gather a notebook and a few paperback novels. As luck would have it, the stapled papers had fluttered near Sachi’s foot. He flipped the stack over, sneaking in a quick peek.

It was an assignment. Creative writing, according to the class tag. And the grade was very high. The teacher’s red notes were flattering–

Kado snatched the papers from Sachi’s hand. “Please don’t read that,” he said as he crammed the stack into the backpack.

But it was a lost cause. As Kado helplessly fingered the torn hole, Sachi cleared his throat.

“You need to get a new bag,” he repeated. “You can spare an hour or two on a Saturday, right?”

Kado sighed. His shoulders slumped.

“I guess I have to.”

“And we can go together!” Sachi said, a bit faster that he intended. He forced his voice into a more casual pitch. “I know a good place right off the rail station. Wanna go now?”

Kado poked an open flap on his backpack. Sachi dug into his own bag and pulled out a sturdy tote bag he’d packed that morning.

“You can use this until we buy something,” he offered.

Kado eyed the tote, then looked up at Sachi. Sachi smile and raised his eyebrows.

Eventually, Kado sighed. He accepted the bag with both hands and bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

Sachi tried not to smile stupidly as Kado transferred his things.

Sachi knew it was a small victory…but it was all he needed. As he and Kado stood from the floor, Sachi’s mind reeled with possibility.

It’s gonna be fun, he said silently. Just wait!

Kado threw his destroyed backpack into a nearby trash bin. “I need to call home first,” he said. “To tell my father I’ll be out. Can you wait a minute?”

“Sure,” Sachi chirped.

As Kado headed to the homeroom phone, Sachi watched him go. There was something oddly gentle about the way Kado cradled that tote.

(Full story available in downloadable ebook/PDF and hard copy versions of Book 1, or bundled with Never Again in the Cherry Bomb store.)