The night before school, Mia's phrasebook lay open on the kitchen table—pages dog-eared, neon-pink notes scribbled so hard they seeped through the paper. She poked a finger at the Thai characters for "I forgot my homework," like scolding them for being too complicated.
"I can't even say this right," she groaned, dropping her pencil. It clattered on the table, and she slumped forward, cheek squishing the page. "What if the teacher thinks I'm dumb?"
Lavender jumped into her lap, purring like a tiny, rumbling motor. She nuzzled Mia's hand with her wet nose, and Mia sighed, scratching the spot behind her ears that always makes her knead the air.
Dad looked up from his coffee, grinning. "Relax, firecracker. You know more than you think. Remember 'hello'? 'Sà-wàt-dee kráp'—c'mon, say it like you mean it."
Mia mumbled it into the phrasebook. "Sà-wàt-dee kráp."
"Too quiet! Like you're whispering to a mango," Dad said, pretending to whisper. Mia laughed, sitting up straight and saying it louder—this time, her voice didn't shake.
Mom set two stacks of notebooks on the table—blue for me, pink for Mia—each with our names scrawled on the cover. "You won't mess up. And even if you do? So what? My first day in Tokyo, I called a vending machine 'konbanwa.' Everyone laughed… then bought me a soda."
I leaned back in my chair, flipping through my English notebook. The pages had little doodles in the margins—Luffy's straw hat, a tiny mango—next to phrases I'd jotted down: Where's the classroom? Can I borrow a pencil? Do you have extra eraser?
"You can just use English," I said, tapping the notebook. "Mom said the school has English teachers. And if all else fails, point to your food notebook—everyone understands mango."
Mia's eyes lit up. "Really? So I don't have to mumble Thai and hope they guess?"
Dad nodded, taking a bite of toast. Crumbs fell on his shirt, and he brushed them off like they weren't there. "Most kids there know some English. Tao—your cousin's kid who goes there—said they even have a manga club. You'll be fine."
But Mia still bit her lip. She closed the phrasebook, sliding it into her backpack like it was a lucky charm. "What if no one talks to me? What if they think I'm the weird Japanese girl who only talks about mangoes?"
I tossed a grape at her. It bounced off her forehead, and she yelped. "You're the one who talked to the taxi driver about mangoes for twenty minutes. He gave you a free candy. Weird people don't get free candy."
She threw the grape back, and it hit my chest. "Shut up. At least I don't carry a history book everywhere like a nerd."
Mom smiled, wiping crumbs off the counter. "Bedtime, you two. School starts at eight, and the taxi comes at seven fifteen. If you're late, Mia's losing her mango porridge tomorrow."
Mia gasped. "You wouldn't!"
Mom raised an eyebrow. "Try me."
Mia groaned but scooped Lavender into her arms—cat squawking softly—and headed upstairs. I followed, tucking my English notebook into my backpack. The carved lotus bookmark slipped out, and I slid it back between the pages—just in case.
Morning Light
My alarm blared at 6:30, and I hit snooze twice before Mom banged on my door. "Jax! If you're late, Mia's blaming you!"
I rolled out of bed, hair sticking up in all directions, and stumbled to the hallway. Mia's door was already open; she was sitting on her bed, staring at her backpack like it held a monster.
"Too early," she muttered, voice muffled by her pillow.
I tossed a hoodie at her. It hit her face. "C'mon. Mom made mango porridge. With extra coconut."
That got her up.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like coconut milk and steamed rice. Mom stood by the stove, stirring a pot of porridge, and Dad leaned against the counter, coffee in hand. The sunlight slanted through the window, painting the table gold.
Mia sat down and shoveled porridge into her mouth. Crumbs stuck to her chin, and Mom wiped them off with a napkin. "Slow down. You'll choke."
"Taxi'll be here in ten minutes," Dad said, checking his phone. "Got everything? Phones? Notebooks? Phrasebook? Mia's elephant keychain?"
Mia nodded, mouth full. She pulled the keychain out of her pocket—it was the one from the Thai fair, the elephant's trunk bent a little—and twisted it around her finger. "It's here. For luck."
I finished my porridge and grabbed my backpack. The lotus bookmark pressed warm against my back—strange, since it was wood. I brushed it off as the morning sun, but my fingers lingered on the backpack strap.
At 7:15, the taxi pulled up. It was the same one from the market, the driver waving when he saw us. Mia slid in first, claiming the window seat, and pressed her face to the glass.
The ride was quiet at first. Mia watched the mango trees go by, then pulled out her phrasebook. She whispered to herself, "Where's the bathroom? Hâi hâi nǎi?"—then froze. "Wait, did I just say 'mango' instead of 'bathroom'?"
I laughed. "Yeah. You told the air you want a mango."
Mia's face turned red. "Shut up! What if I do that in front of the teacher?"
Dad glanced back, grinning. "Then you'll get a mango. Win-win."
Mia rolled her eyes, but she smiled.
Ten minutes later, the school appeared. Low, colorful buildings with murals of elephants and lotus flowers, palm trees swaying in the wind. Kids ran across the playground—some chasing each other, some carrying soccer balls—and the sound of laughter drifted over.
Mia's grip on her backpack tightened until her knuckles turned white. "I'm scared," she whispered.
I nudged her shoulder. "Me too. But we'll stick together. Worst case, we ask for mangoes. Everyone likes mangoes."
She laughed, and the taxi stopped.
First Day
The entrance was a chaos of noise—parents hugging their kids goodbye, friends yelling each other's names, teachers holding up signs for new students. A woman in a bright orange shirt spotted us immediately; her name tag said "Ms. Lina."
"New students?" she asked, her English clear and warm.
Mom nodded. "Jax and Mia. They just moved from Japan."
Ms. Lina knelt down a little, so she was eye-level with Mia. "Welcome! Jax, you're in Grade 9—room 203, upstairs. Mia, you're in Grade 8—room 107, right down this hall."
Mia's eyes widened. "We're not in the same class?"
Ms. Lina laughed. "I'm sorry! But lunch is at 12:30—you can meet by the canteen. I promise your sister won't disappear."
Dad ruffled Mia's hair. "You'll be fine, peanut. We'll pick you up at three. Call if you need anything—even if it's just to say you ate mango sticky rice."
Mom hugged us both. "Have fun. And Jax—don't let Mia skip math."
We waved goodbye and followed Ms. Lina down the hallway. The air smelled like chalk and ripe mangoes (someone had brought a fruit bowl to their locker), and lockers clanged shut as kids rushed to class. Mia clutched my hand so tight, my fingers tingled.
Ms. Lina stopped in front of room 107. "This is you, Mia. Mr. Thai is your teacher—he lived in Tokyo for two years. He can help if you get stuck."
Mia took a deep breath, squeezing my hand once before letting go. "Bye, Jax. Don't forget to find me at lunch. And don't talk to too many manga nerds."
"I won't," I said. She pushed the door open, and a few kids waved at her. I smiled—she'd be okay.
Ms. Lina led me up a flight of stairs. The bell rang just as we reached room 203, and she pushed the door open.
"Class, this is Jax," she announced. "He's new from Japan. Let's make him feel welcome!"
Dozens of eyes turned to me. My face got hot, and I shifted my backpack. I was about to mumble something when a boy in the back shot his hand up.
"Do you like manga? I read One Piece!" he yelled.
I laughed, relief washing over me. "Yeah! I have the first twenty volumes at home. Luffy's my favorite."
The boy grinned. "Mine too! I'm Tao—sit next to me!"
Ms. Lina pointed to the desk next to Tao. "Perfect. We're reviewing English grammar today—present tense, easy stuff. Jax, wanna read the first paragraph?"
I nodded, pulling out my notebook. The paragraph was about a girl visiting a mango farm, and I read it out loud. When I finished, the class clapped.
"See?" Ms. Lina said. "English is your superpower here."
Lunch and Lotus
Recess was five minutes later. Tao grabbed my arm and dragged me to the playground, where two kids were sitting under a mango tree—Lila, with curly hair and a mango sticker on her notebook, and Kiet, holding a soccer ball.
"This is Jax—he likes One Piece and lives in that villa with the big mango tree," Tao said, like he'd known me forever.
Lila smiled. "I live near there! Have you tried the mango sticky rice at the canteen? Last week I added double coconut milk—it was so sweet, my teeth hurt."
Kiet nodded. "Yeah! And they have satay sticks on Fridays. My mom says they're too greasy, but I eat three anyway."
We sat there, talking about manga and school and mangoes, and for the first time since we moved, I didn't feel like the "new kid." I felt like… me.
Lunchtime came fast. I found Mia sitting at a table with a girl with braids—Aom, from what Mia had texted me. Mia waved me over, grinning.
"Jax! This is Aom! She has an elephant keychain too—look!" Mia held up her keychain, and Aom pulled out hers—smaller, with a tiny lotus on the elephant's back.
Aom smiled shyly. "Mia told me you moved from Tokyo. I went there last year—my grandma lives near a manga store. I bought Naruto there."
We got lunch—mango sticky rice for Mia and Aom (Mia asked for extra coconut, of course), pad thai for me—and sat down. Mia talked non-stop, describing Lavender digging up the box, the mango tree in the yard, even how Dad burned the pad thai last night.
"Lavender's so funny—she sleeps on Jax's manga," Mia said. "And she dug up this old box in our yard—Jax thinks it's haunted."
I groaned. "I don't think it's haunted. It's just… old. With lotus carvings."
Aom's eyes widened. "Lotus carvings? My grandma says those are lucky. She has a necklace with a lotus—she says it means new beginnings. Like when you move to a new place, or start a new school."
My throat felt tight. I thought about the bookmark in my backpack, the box in my desk drawer. "Really? She says that?"
Aom nodded, twisting her keychain. "Yeah. She says lotuses grow in mud but bloom pretty—so even if things are weird at first, they get better."
Mia grinned. "See? Lucky, not haunted. I told you."
I smiled, but my fingers brushed the backpack—where the bookmark was warm, like it was agreeing with Aom.
After School
The end of the day came too fast. Mia found me near the gate, her backpack slung over one shoulder, Aom next to her.
"Today was awesome!" Mia said. "Aom and I are gonna hang out this weekend—we're going to the night market! She says they have mango ice cream there."
I grinned. "Told you you'd be fine. English helped, huh?"
She laughed. "Yeah. I didn't even use my phrasebook—Mr. Thai talked to me in Japanese once, and Aom helped me say 'thank you' in Thai. It was easy."
Mom and Dad were waiting by the taxi. On the ride home, Mia talked the whole time—about her math class (she got a problem right!), Aom's grandma's stories, the mango sticky rice (she had two bowls). I listened, smiling, as the sun dipped below the mountains, painting the sky pink.
When we got home, Lavender ran to the door, meowing so loud she sounded like a siren. Mia scooped her up, and the cat immediately started kneading her shirt.
Dad headed to the kitchen to make tea, and Mom sat beside me on the couch. "You look happy," she said.
"I am," I told her. "Tao wants to come over this weekend to borrow my manga. Lila said she'll show us the best mango stand near school."
Mom brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Good. I was worried you'd feel lonely."
I thought about the box in my desk, the bookmark in my notebook. The warmth, the lotus, Aom's grandma's story. "Me too," I said. "But it's okay. It feels like… we belong here."
That night, I sat at my desk. I pulled out the ivory box and set it next to the lotus bookmark. When I touched them together, my指尖 got warm—like holding a stone that'd been in the sun. Lavender jumped up, curling around them, purring so loud the desk vibrated.
A knock on my door. Mia peeked in, holding her phrasebook. "Hey. Wanna practice Thai for tomorrow? I tried saying 'I want mango ice cream' earlier, and I said 'I want mango dog' instead."
I laughed, closing my drawer. "Sure. But if you mix up 'kráp' and 'krapao' again, I'm telling Tao."
She stuck her tongue out but sat on my bed. Lavender climbed into her lap, and Mia started flipping through the phrasebook. Outside, the mango tree swayed in the night breeze, and somewhere far away, a bell rang once—soft, like a whisper.
This was good. This was new.
And for the first time since we arrived in Chiang Mai—
It felt like home.