Foxfire (An Other Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page A

face paint, add plastic fangs, and run around pretending to bite girls because they’re “werewolves.” And usually the girls who get fake-bitten are wearing sheer dresses and body glitter since they’re “faeries.” Never mind what real werewolves and faeries look like, or that both of those Others would kick some serious ass if they saw those costumes.
    “Japan is different.” I laugh. “Though this is Harajuku.”
    “True,” Gwen says.
    We stand side by side in silence for a while, watching the pageantry of strangeness that could exist nowhere else. Watching the Harajuku kids makes me feel claustrophobic, in a way, like all the different people—the not-normal people—in Tokyo, maybe all of Japan, are crammed onto this one bridge. They know where they belong, and it isn’t with everyone else. I wonder how many of these kids take out their piercings and wash the temporary dye from their hair every night, then go work as secretaries and study at Tokyo University in the morning.
    “I’m thirsty,” Gwen says. “Are you?”
    “Let’s go find something to drink. There might be some drinking fountains in the park.”
    We cross the rest of the bridge and head west into Yoyogi Park. The sun peeks through ragged clouds, and frost glitters on the grass and trees. Here, people wear darker clothes and take up less space. Gwen makes a beeline for a vending machine selling drinks—the hot ones marked with red buttons, the cold ones with blue. She buys a can of jasmine tea and pops the top, releasing a puff of steam into the chilly air.
    “Isn’t this amazing?” she says.
    I peer into the machine. “Oh, cool! Minute Maid Hot Lemonade.” I feed the vending machine some coins, wrap my numb fingers around the warm can, and take a sip of tanginess. “I remember drinking this when I was little.”
    “Really?” Gwen says.
    She must be wondering how a half-wild fox boy could have found the money to buy anything from a vending machine.
    My cheeks warm. “My kitsune mother bought it for me.” I hesitate. “With fake coins. Illusions, made from her magic. So technically she didn’t buy it, she stole it. But in her defense, I was a little brat who wouldn’t stop whimpering for lemonade.”
    Gwen laughs. “I’m trying to imagine you as a little brat.” She drains her jasmine tea. “I have to pee. Wait here?”
    “Sure.”
    She jogs toward the nearest public restroom. I finish my hot lemonade, then sit on a bench outside the restroom with my sketchpad. I love how the frost looks like sugar dusted on the grass and trees. Well, it’s not like that’s a sight unique to Japan. I sigh and slip my sketchbook back into my pack. This trip is going to be a total artistic failure if I don’t stop hearing nagging in my head.
    The door creaks open behind me.
    “Ready?” I say, my gaze still on the park.
    “You need to go,” Gwen says.
    Frowning, I turn toward her. Her face looks strangely serene. “What?”
    “She is coming.”
    “Who?”
    Gwen raises her hand to brush back her hair—no, she’s wiping her face, wiping her face away , leaving nothing but blank skin.
    The noppera-bō.
    The fox inside me leaps to the forefront, snarling, and I barely manage to stay human. I jump away from the noppera-bō, outside of its range. It reaches for me, its hand like Gwen’s but maggot-white. I stare at it for a full second, then run. Adrenaline electrifies my muscles as I sprint though Yoyogi Park.
    I hurtle though the bushes, clenching my jaw to keep myself from transforming. That would not be a good idea, in broad daylight in the middle of Tokyo.
    Behind me, I hear Gwen’s voice. “Wait! Come back!”
    And find out whether it’s really her or the noppera-bō? Unlikely.
    I hightail it out of the park and dive into the heart of the shopping district, where there are more people and, hopefully, safe places to hide. I hit the sidewalk running and zigzag through girls carrying shopping bags, trying to avoid a collision.