Roxanne could not come here with me inside the crowded restaurant. She really loves food, so I find it weird for her to decline such an offer. Who does not want crackling foods, anyway?
Roxy sends me a text message saying, "I would not come for today. I will make it up with you next time!" She has never given me a reply since then.
"I should not be here," I exclaim while looking at everyone else at the party.
The giant speakers in the middle blare out a deafening tune that none of my eardrums could take. I do not even know if I would last for another second as I continue listening to the heavy metal rock blasting from the songs. Every fibre inside my body jiggles in fright, wanting to flee from the room.
I feel the warm sensation of the plate sizzling in front of me as the drama members pick the meat using their chopsticks. The oil oozes the tender and pinkish fat from the pork while Yui turns it around.
"You are a part of the drama club!" Yui announces, and beams at me with a smile.
I curve my lips in return and help myself with the fresh meat taken from the grill. People in Japan call it Yakiniku, which originates from western-style barbecue food. As I pan my head around, I can see innumerable people clicking their bottles and chugging their booze. I return my gaze to the group and notice cups filled with sugar-sweet iced tea.
If we were six years younger, or twenty years old, we would have been drinking non-stop with the nihonshu (also called sake) until we saw the next sunrise.
A faint chuckle escapes from my mouth as the idea continues to rise inside my head.
"I am?" I ask while tilting my head towards my right.
My eyes never cease to blink after hearing such a statement. I have been thinking of such crude thoughts lately, but I am sure it ain't one of them. Did they include me without my knowledge? Would I have to perform on stage with them for the next event? These are the thoughts that keep ringing into my ears as if a cheese grater skins my hair.
"You are not a member of the club, but a part of our family, Yuki." Chang-Ae corrects Yui and raises her bottle.
The Korean girl adds and directs her cup to the group. "Cheers for our new main heroine!"
"Cheers!" The crowd appends and joins in with the chant.
There are ten members in the drama club; nine of them are female and one male. The only guy in the club is not a pervert or does not act one for all I can remember. The first-year male student is just there, forced by his sister.
According to Yui and Chang-Ae, the first-year boys do not want to take part in the drama club. The basketball and volleyball group took most of the population in school. There had been a situation where the drama club did not have enough members to fulfil the minimum requirements of members. But Chang-Ae did something crazy and performed on stage in front of the gates.
The officers back then were so busy with the documents that we did not even support her. I remember Yui excused herself from that day, but I never thought she would watch Chang-Ae acting near the gates.
"Chang-Ae hyped us from her stunts and monologues in front of the school!"
"We cannot wait to do those things too!"
Other members of the drama club chortle to their comments as they chew the food inside their mouths. They point figures at each other, telling who would play the next role for their play. All of them look like they are having a lot of fun, so I pay them no mind at all.
"Everything pays off with a bit of passion and hard work, am I right?" Chang-Ae throws a rhetorical question as she sips the cold juice.
I can see her eyes stealing a glimpse in my direction, directing the question for me. I avert my gaze and xertz my glass down to its last ounce after releasing a satisfied burp. Everyone who hears the peculiar noise shifts their orbs to me and soon bursts into tears. They laugh at me as if there is no tomorrow.
Time passes by quickly, and it is already closing time for the restaurant. We say our goodbyes and carry on with our lives. I have not remembered the names of the people from the diner, but I recall their jolly faces while slurping the piece of beef through their mouth. It is a memory worth saving inside my head, but all good things must come to an end.
Me, Chang-Ae, and Yui part ways from the restaurant and take our leave. I head towards the park and stare in front of the orphanage. I peek through the window and see Himari drawing at the sketch pad. It has been her third drawing right now, trying to reach the level of that damn mangaka who she really admires.
Himari might have been writing right now if she wishes to be a writer. Who knows, maybe she can write stories better than the ones I wrote? But whatever she does, Himari will still be an adorable little child. I will support everything she wants, even if I have to fight the badass people on Earth.
I want to greet Himari and say hello, but I am running late with my chapters. I also have to deal with the emotion-pack story I need to write for my competition with Nickson.
I shift my view towards the silent street and head to my home. The faint light glowing from the lampposts is the only one paving the road. There are fewer cars during the night, so I feel confident enough to pass the streets without having to worry about the automobiles charging at an ostrich speed.
I look back at the memories I have spent with Yui back in the drama club. I recall her situation is like mine. We both did not know what to do when we faced a problem that we could not solve. Yui was not aware of her ditsy movements, while I was unaware of my emotions for my readers.
However, it is different right now.
I have learned many things during the time we practise inside the club room. A writer is like an actress; we both need to express our emotions.
The author uses a pen to convey the meanings behind each description unseen by the naked eye. We try to reach out to all the scenes and character growth to the readers. All of us must pin down a concise explanation for every minuscule detail of each chapter. We need to make it consistent and entertaining to the audience, without wearing down our quality.
The same goes for actresses. They read scripts day and night and practise them inside their caves, especially when nobody is looking. They watch movies or series and relate their characters and personalities to the lines. These people would eat, sleep, and even exercise at the gym while repeatedly playing the dialogues inside-out of their brains.
It must have driven them into insanity if not for the check and praise provided by the director, fans, and companies.
These actors need to grasp a better understanding of the character, and not apply their own. If the story requires them to be a bully, they will become a bully. Actresses will learn the ways of becoming a bully. If actors need to be an arrogant son of a mafia boss, he or she will volunteer to visit one around the streets (for legal reasons, this is a joke).
Writers and actors are two peas in a pond. I can still remember the first time I felt stuck in a bottleneck, unable to describe what a drunk person would do. I searched far and wide for an answer, but concluded nothing.
Roxanne bought me sakes and asked for our permission to drink the alcohol under my parent's supervision. She presented herself and drank with me. After a couple of glasses, I remembered nothing besides trying to kiss Roxy in the mouth. Not just a kiss, but with a tongue-twister style, first form, with sudden gestures like a feral animal.
I wrote all I experienced and used it to my advantage. The blank sheets slowly filled themselves with words. After a few days, I passed the finished products to my editor.
These events happened last two years ago. It is still fresh inside my mind every time these occurrences resurface itself from my mind. The faint smell of fermented rice filled my mind with euphoria, and eventually knocked me out cold on the ground.
(To those kids reading this part, please, do not drink at a young age.)
I wonder how on Earth Yui changed from being a nervous person to a confident woman within a day?
I brush the thought off my head and slide the door open inside my house. Roxanne is not here with me since she is busy with a mountain of academic files. She messaged this morning that she would not visit my home.
I click the laptop open and stare at the screen. Although I may still be the same Yuki from two or many years from before, I still feel delighted when someone reads my story.