The Girl Who Sees Tomorrow Morning

Mia was twelve years old.

She lived in a small town.

The town was near a river.

There was one school.

There was one small shop.

There was one bread shop.

There was one old bus.

The bus came two times every day.

Mia liked her town very much.

Mia lived with her mother and her grandmother.

Their house was white and small.

It had a blue door.

Outside the door, there was a little garden.

Her grandmother grew tomatoes there.

Mia had a secret.

She never told anyone.

Every night, she saw tomorrow morning.

It started when she was seven.

One night, she closed her eyes in bed.

Then she saw something.

She saw her kitchen.

She saw the table.

She saw a broken cup on the floor.

It was her mother's blue cup.

In the morning, Mia went to the kitchen.

Her mother made tea.

Then the blue cup fell.

It broke on the floor.

It was the same cup.

It was the same floor.

Mia was very surprised.

"Are you okay?" her mother asked.

"Yes," Mia said.

But she was not okay.

She was afraid.

After that night, it happened again and again.

Every night, Mia saw tomorrow morning.

She saw only the morning.

She did not see the afternoon.

She did not see the evening.

She saw twelve hours, and then it stopped.

Mia did not see big things.

She never saw a fire.

She never saw an accident.

She never saw money or gold.

She saw very small things.

She saw a lost glove under a chair.

She saw rain at eight o'clock.

She saw a cat on a wall.

She saw her grandmother's empty milk box.

For a long time, Mia did not like her secret.

"Why do I see these things?" she thought.

"They are not important."

But then, one day, she changed her mind.

It was a cold morning in November.

That night, Mia saw something in her sleep.

She saw the bus stop near the shop.

She saw old Mr. Lee.

He stood at the bus stop.

He had no umbrella.

And then it rained.

The rain was heavy.

Mr. Lee was wet and cold.

Mia woke up early.

She thought about Mr. Lee.

He was eighty years old.

He lived alone.

He always went to the town on the first bus.

Mia took her mother's old umbrella.

It was green and big.

She ran to the bus stop.

The sky was grey, but there was no rain yet.

Mr. Lee stood there.

He looked at Mia.

"Good morning, Mia," he said.

"Why do you run?"

"Good morning," Mia said.

"Please take this umbrella."

"But there is no rain," Mr. Lee said.

"There will be rain," Mia said.

"I think."

Mr. Lee smiled.

He took the umbrella.

"Thank you," he said.

"You are a kind girl."

Ten minutes later, the rain came.

It was heavy and cold.

Mia stood by her window and watched the water on the glass.

She was happy.

Her secret was small, but it was not useless.

That was the first time she used it.

After that day, Mia used her secret every morning.

It was not easy.

She could not choose what she saw.

Some nights, she saw nothing.

Some nights, she saw silly things.

One night she saw a sock on the stairs.

One night she saw a bird on the roof.

But sometimes, she saw something useful.

Mia made a small rule.

"I will help people," she said.

"But I will never tell them about my secret."

Her days were always the same.

She woke up at six thirty.

She washed her face.

She went to the kitchen.

Her grandmother was always there first.

Her grandmother's name was Nana.

She was seventy-nine years old.

She was small and slow, but she was strong.

She made breakfast every morning.

She made rice, soup, and eggs.

"Good morning, Mia," Nana said.

"Good morning, Nana."

Mia's mother worked at the town hospital.

She was a nurse.

She left the house at seven o'clock.

She came home at six in the evening.

She was often tired.

"Do you have your books?" her mother asked every morning.

"Yes, Mother."

"Do you have your lunch?"

"Yes, Mother."

Then her mother went out.

Mia and Nana ate breakfast together.

One Tuesday, Mia saw something in the night.

She saw the milk box in the kitchen.

The box was empty.

And she saw Nana's face.

Nana was sad.

She wanted tea with milk.

So Mia woke up early.

She went to the shop before breakfast.

The shop opened at seven.

Mrs. Park worked there.

"You are early today," Mrs. Park said.

"I need milk," Mia said.

Mia ran home with the milk.

She put it on the table.

Then she waited.

Nana came to the kitchen.

She opened the milk box.

It was empty.

Her face was sad for one second.

Then she saw the new milk on the table.

"Oh!"

Nana said.

"Where did this come from?"

"From the shop," Mia said.

"I went early."

Nana looked at her.

Her eyes were small and bright.

"How did you know?"

Mia said nothing.

She only smiled.

Nana made tea with milk.

She drank it slowly.

"This is a good day," she said.

Another morning, Mia saw her mother's keys.

In her sleep, she saw them under the sofa.

In the morning, her mother could not find her keys.

"Where are my keys?" her mother said.

"I am late again!"

"Look under the sofa," Mia said.

Her mother looked.

The keys were there.

"How did you know?" her mother asked.

"I saw them yesterday," Mia said.

It was not true.

But it was a small lie.

Her mother kissed her head and ran out of the house.

Mia sat at the table.

She ate her rice.

She was quiet.

"Nana," she said.

"Do you think small things are important?"

Nana thought about it.

"What is a big thing?" she asked.

"I don't know," Mia said.

"Something big."

"A big thing is many small things," Nana said.

"Eat your egg."

Mia ate her egg.

She thought about Nana's words all day.

Mia's school was ten minutes from her house.

She walked there every day.

The road went past the river.

In spring, there were flowers by the water.

In winter, the water was grey and cold.

There were sixty children in the school.

Mia's class had fourteen children.

Her teacher was Mr. Ito.

He was young and he laughed a lot.

Mia's best friend was Ben.

Ben was twelve too.

He was tall and thin, and he forgot everything.

He forgot his books.

He forgot his pen.

He forgot his shoes for sport.

"Ben, where is your homework?"

Mr. Ito asked, almost every week.

"At home," Ben said.

Mia helped Ben many times.

She did not use her secret for this.

She only remembered things for him.

But one night, Mia saw something new.

She saw Ben in the school yard.

It was lunch time.

Ben sat alone.

He had no lunch box.

He was hungry and he looked down at his shoes.

In the morning, Mia asked Nana for two sandwiches.

"Two?"

Nana said.

"Are you very hungry today?"

"I am growing," Mia said.

Nana laughed.

She made two sandwiches.

She put cheese and tomato in them.

The tomatoes came from her garden.

At lunch time, Mia found Ben in the yard.

He sat on the cold stones.

He had no lunch box.

"I forgot it," Ben said.

"It is on the kitchen table."

"Here," Mia said.

She gave him a sandwich.

Ben looked at it.

"Why do you have two?"

"I like sandwiches."

Ben ate it fast.

"This is good," he said.

"The tomato is very good."

"It is from my grandmother's garden."

They sat together and ate.

The sun came out.

A small bird walked near their feet.

Ben gave it some bread.

"Mia," Ben said.

"You are strange."

"Why?"

"You always know things," Ben said.

"Last week you gave me your pen before I lost mine."

Mia's face went hot.

"That is not true."

"It is true," Ben said.

"But I like it. Do not stop."

Mia said nothing.

After school, Mia walked home by the river.

She thought about Ben's words.

"You always know things."

She was a little afraid.

What if people asked questions?

What if people were angry?

What if they thought she was strange?

At home, Nana was in the garden.

She cut the old tomato plants.

"You are quiet," Nana said.

"I am thinking."

"That is good. Thinking is free."

Mia sat on the step.

"Nana, do people like strange things?"

Nana put down her knife.

"Some people do. Some people do not."

"What about you?"

"I am strange," Nana said.

"So I like strange things."

Mia laughed.

It was her first laugh that day.

That night, Mia went to bed early.

She closed her eyes.

She waited for tomorrow morning.

And she saw a new face.

The face was a girl's face.

Mia did not know her.

The girl had short black hair.

She wore a red coat.

She stood at the school gate.

And she cried.

Mia opened her eyes in the dark.

Her heart was fast.

She never saw a crying person before.

She saw gloves, cups, milk, keys, and rain.

She never saw tears.

"Who is she?"

Mia thought.

In the morning, Mia went to school early.

She stood near the gate and waited.

The air was cold.

Her hands were cold too.

At eight o'clock, a car came.

A girl got out.

She had short black hair.

She wore a red coat.

It was the same girl.

She was not crying.

But her face was white and tight.

She looked at the school.

She did not move.

A man in the car said something.

Then the car went away.

The girl stood alone at the gate.

Mia walked to her.

"Hello," Mia said.

"Are you new?"

The girl looked at her.

"Yes. I am Sara."

"I am Mia. What class are you in?"

"I do not know," Sara said.

"Class Two, I think."

"That is my class," Mia said.

"Come with me."

They walked into the school together.

Sara said nothing.

Her bag was new.

Her shoes were new.

Everything was new.

In the classroom, Mr. Ito smiled.

"Our new student!" he said.

"Sara, please sit here."

Sara sat by the window.

The children looked at her.

Some of them whispered.

Sara looked at her desk.

At break time, the other children went outside.

Sara stayed in her seat.

Mia stayed too.

She did not know what to say.

So she said nothing.

She only sat at the next desk and read her book.

After ten minutes, Sara spoke.

"Why are you here?"

"I like this room," Mia said.

"It is warm."

Sara almost smiled.

"Where did you live before?"

Mia asked.

"In the city," Sara said.

"A big city."

"Is it nice?"

"It is loud," Sara said.

"There are many people. Nobody knows your name."

"Here, everybody knows your name," Mia said.

"Sometimes that is bad too."

This time Sara really smiled.

It was small and quick, but it was real.

Then the bell rang.

The other children came back.

Sara's face closed again, like a door.

At lunch time, Mia looked for Sara.

She was not in the classroom.

She was not in the yard.

Mia walked around the school.

She looked behind the sport room.

She looked near the trees.

Then she found her.

Sara sat by the gate.

Her knees were up.

Her face was down.

And she cried.

It was the same picture.

The gate.

The red coat.

The tears.

Mia stood still.

"I was too slow," she thought.

"I saw it, and it happened anyway."

She felt something heavy in her chest.

Mia sat down next to Sara.

She did not talk.

She did not touch her.

She only sat there on the cold ground.

Sara did not look up.

"Go away," she said.

"No," Mia said.

"Why not?"

"Because the ground is cold," Mia said.

"If I go, you are alone on cold ground. If I stay, we are two people on cold ground. Two is better."

Sara laughed.

Then she cried more.

Then she stopped.

"I hate this school," Sara said.

"It is your first day."

"I hate first days."

"Everybody hates first days," Mia said.

Sara cleaned her face with her hand.

"In the city, I had four friends. Here I have nobody."

"You have one," Mia said.

Sara looked at her.

"Why are you nice to me?"

Mia thought about the truth.

She thought about her secret.

She wanted to say it.

But she did not.

"Because I saw you this morning," she said.

"You looked like this."

"Like what?"

"Like a person who needs a sandwich."

Sara laughed again.

"I do need a sandwich. I forgot my lunch."

"Then you are like Ben," Mia said.

"Come with me."

They went to the yard.

Ben sat on the wall.

He ate an apple.

"Ben, this is Sara," Mia said.

"Sara, this is Ben. He forgets everything."

"I do not forget everything," Ben said.

"I forgot my lunch again, that is all."

"So did I," Sara said.

Ben's face was happy.

"Really? You too?"

"Yes."

"Then we are the same," Ben said.

"We are the forgetting people."

Mia opened her bag.

She took out three small boxes.

There were rice balls inside.

Nana made them that morning.

"How many did you bring?"

Ben said.

"Three."

"Why three?"

Mia did not answer.

She gave one box to Ben and one box to Sara.

They ate on the wall.

The sun was low and yellow.

A cat walked on the fence and looked at them.

"This town is very small," Sara said.

"Yes," Mia said.

"But it is quiet."

"Yes."

Sara looked at the hills.

"In the city, I could not see the sky. There were buildings everywhere."

"Here there is only sky," Ben said.

"Sometimes there is too much sky."

They laughed.

After school, Mia and Sara walked to the river together.

Sara's house was past the bridge.

It was an old house with a red roof.

"My father works at the paper factory," Sara said.

"That is why we came here."

"Do you like your house?"

"It is big and cold," Sara said.

"There are spiders in it."

"Nana says spiders are good. They eat the flies."

"Your grandmother sounds strange."

"She is," Mia said.

"She likes strange things."

They stopped at the bridge.

The river was low and slow.

Small white birds stood in the water.

"Mia," Sara said.

"Thank you for today."

"It was nothing."

"It was not nothing," Sara said.

Then she ran to her house.

Mia walked home slowly.

She watched the water.

She felt light and warm.

"Maybe small things are big things," she thought.

That night, Mia went to bed happy.

She closed her eyes.

She waited.

She saw nothing.

It was only dark.

It was a soft, empty dark.

Then she slept, and then it was morning.

"That is fine," Mia thought.

"Some nights are empty."

But the next night was empty too.

And the next.

And the next.

After one week, Mia was afraid.

She tried many things.

She went to bed early.

She went to bed late.

She ate less.

She ate more.

She put her pillow at the other end of the bed.

Nothing worked.

Every night, there was only dark.

Mia's mornings changed.

She did not know about the rain.

She did not know about the milk.

She did not know about lost keys or lost gloves.

One morning, it rained hard and Mia had no umbrella.

She came to school wet.

"Where is your umbrella?"

Ben asked.

"At home," Mia said.

Ben's mouth opened.

"You? You forgot something?"

"People forget things," Mia said.

Her voice was sharp.

Ben went quiet.

"Sorry," he said.

"No. I am sorry," Mia said.

"I am tired."

At lunch time, Mia did not bring extra food.

Sara had her own lunch now, so it was fine.

But Mia felt strange.

She felt empty, like her nights.

"Are you sick?"

Sara asked.

"No."

"You look sick."

"I am only thinking."

That week was very long.

On Thursday, old Mr. Lee stood at the bus stop in the cold rain.

He had no umbrella that day.

Mia saw him from the school window.

He was wet.

Her chest hurt.

"I could help before," she thought.

"Now I am nobody."

At home, Nana made soup.

The kitchen smelled of onions and salt.

"Sit down," Nana said.

Mia sat.

"Eat."

Mia ate.

"Now talk," Nana said.

"I cannot talk about it."

"Then do not talk," Nana said.

"But do not lie to me. You are not sick. You are sad."

Mia put down her spoon.

"Nana, think about something good. Something you have. And then it goes away. What do you do?"

Nana was quiet for a long time.

She looked at the window.

It was dark outside.

The glass showed their faces.

"I am sad," Nana said.

"And then I eat my soup."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer I have."

Mia ate her soup.

It was hot and good.

That night, she lay in bed with her eyes open.

She looked at the ceiling.

There was a small line in it, like a river on a map.

"Please come back," she whispered.

"I will use it well. I promise."

Nothing came.

Only the dark.

And in the dark, Mia understood something.

She was not sad because she could not see tomorrow.

She was sad because she could not help.

On Saturday morning, Nana was in the garden early.

She pulled old leaves from the ground and put them in a box.

The air was cold and white.

Mia came out in her coat.

She sat on the step and watched.

"Come and help," Nana said.

Mia helped.

They worked for an hour.

They did not talk.

The ground was hard and brown.

Then Nana sat down on the step too.

She was tired.

She put her hands on her knees.

"Mia," she said.

"How long can you see?"

Mia's body went cold.

"What?"

"How far can you see?"

Nana said.

"One day? Two days?"

Mia could not speak.

"I saw twelve hours," Nana said.

"Only the morning. Never more."

Mia looked at her grandmother.

Her mouth was open.

"You?" she said.

"Me. When I was a girl. From nine years old to twenty-one years old."

"Nana!"

"Do not shout. People will hear."

Mia moved closer.

Her hands shook.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because you never told me," Nana said.

"We are the same. We keep our doors closed."

"What did you see?"

"Small things. Always small things. A broken plate. A late train. My mother's headache. A dog in the road."

Nana smiled.

"One time I saw a hat in a tree. And in the morning, there was a hat in the tree."

Mia laughed.

Tears came into her eyes at the same time.

"It went away," Mia said.

"Mine went away."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Because you are sad," Nana said.

"And because it happens. Mine went away too. When I was twenty-one. One night, nothing. Then nothing again. Then nothing for sixty years."

"Did it come back?"

"No."

Mia's heart fell.

"Never?"

"Never."

They sat in the cold garden.

A bird sang somewhere.

"I was angry for two years," Nana said.

"Two years! What a waste. I thought, I am no one now. I am only a normal person."

"And then?"

"And then I got married. I had your mother. I made a garden. I made ten thousand cups of tea for people who needed them."

Nana looked at Mia.

"Do you know how I knew about the tea?"

"How?"

"I looked at their faces," Nana said.

"That is all. That is the other way of seeing."

Mia said nothing for a long time.

"It is slower," Nana said.

"You make mistakes. Sometimes you bring the wrong thing. But it works. It worked for sixty years."

Mia cleaned her face with her sleeve.

"I am not good at faces."

"You are twelve," Nana said.

"Nobody is good at anything at twelve."

Nana stood up slowly.

"Now. Carry this box."

Mia carried the box.

It was heavy and it smelled of earth.

At the door, Nana stopped.

"Mia."

"Yes?"

"You gave Mr. Lee an umbrella," Nana said.

"That was not the seeing. That was you."

On Monday, Mia went to school with her eyes open.

She watched people.

It was hard work.

It was much harder than sleeping.

She watched Mr. Lee at the bus stop.

He looked at the sky many times.

"He is worried about rain," Mia thought.

She was not sure.

She said nothing, but after that day she put an old umbrella in her school bag every morning.

She watched Ben.

He looked in his bag three times before class.

"He is looking for his pen," she thought.

She put a pen on his desk.

"How did you know?"

Ben started.

"I have two," Mia said.

She watched Sara.

This was the hardest one.

Sara laughed with the other children now.

She played in the yard.

She was fine.

But on Wednesday, Sara was quiet.

She ate her lunch slowly.

She did not look at anybody.

Before, Mia knew things in the night.

Now she did not know.

She had to ask.

Asking was hard.

It was much harder than knowing.

"Sara," Mia said.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

They sat.

Mia counted to twenty in her head.

"It is my father," Sara said suddenly.

"He is not happy here. He says the factory is bad. He says maybe we go back to the city."

"Oh."

"I do not want to go back," Sara said.

"That is strange. Two months ago I hated this town."

"It is not strange."

"I have friends here. You and Ben. In the city my friends have new friends now. They do not write to me."

Mia thought hard.

She wanted the right words.

She did not have them.

"I do not know what to say," she said at last.

"I am sorry. I do not know."

Sara looked at her.

"That is okay. You asked. Nobody asked."

Mia felt something open in her chest, warm and quiet.

After school, the three of them walked to the river.

It was February.

The water was high and fast from the winter rain.

Ben threw a stone in it.

"If you go," Ben said, "I will write to you."

"You will forget," Sara said.

"I will forget one time. Then I will remember."

They laughed.

Mia looked at the water.

"My grandmother says a big thing is many small things," she said.

"What does that mean?"

Ben asked.

"I think it means this," Mia said.

"A friend is not one big thing. A friend is a sandwich, and a pen, and a question. Many small things. Every day."

Sara was quiet.

Then she said, "Your grandmother is the smartest person in this town."

"Yes," Mia said.

"She is also the strangest."

That night, Mia lay in her bed.

She closed her eyes.

She did not ask for anything.

She did not make promises.

She only listened to the house.

The wind moved outside.

Nana coughed in the next room.

A car went past on the road.

And Mia slept, with no picture of tomorrow.

It was a good sleep.

Spring came slowly to the town by the river.

The ice went away.

The grass came up green by the water.

Nana's garden was full of small brown seeds under the soil.

Sara did not go back to the city.

Her father found other work at the school.

He drove the bus for the children every morning.

Sara did not like this at all.

Ben thought it was the best thing in the world.

"Your father drives my bus," he said, every day, for two weeks.

"Stop it," Sara said.

"Good morning, bus friend."

"Stop."

Mia laughed at them both.

Mia's nights stayed dark.

She did not see tomorrow morning again.

At first, she looked for it every night, like a person looking for a lost key.

Then, slowly, she stopped looking.

Some things she missed.

She missed knowing about the rain.

She missed the small, warm feeling of being ready.

But other things came back, and they were better.

She was surprised now.

Surprise was new.

When Nana made a cake for her birthday, Mia did not know before.

She opened the door and saw it, and she shouted.

Her mother laughed for a long time about that shout.

She made mistakes too.

She brought an umbrella on a sunny day.

She brought two sandwiches when nobody was hungry.

One time she asked Ben, "Are you sad?" and Ben said, "No, I have a stomach ache."

Then they both laughed until they could not breathe.

Mistakes were fine.

Nobody died from an extra sandwich.

One morning in April, Mia walked to the bus stop with Nana.

They went to the town to buy seeds.

Mr. Lee was there.

He was eighty-one years old now.

He held a green umbrella.

"Good morning, Mia," he said.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tanaka."

"Good morning," Nana said.

"There is no rain today, Mr. Lee," Mia said.

Mr. Lee looked at the blue sky.

"I know," he said.

"But this is a good umbrella. It is your umbrella. I keep it with me."

"You can give it back."

"No, no," Mr. Lee said.

"Then what will I do when it rains?"

He smiled.

"Also, it is a good stick for walking. And it is good for the dogs."

"The dogs?"

"The big brown dog by the shop," Mr. Lee said.

"He is not friendly. I show him the umbrella and he goes away."

Nana laughed.

"That is three jobs for one umbrella."

"Yes," Mr. Lee said.

"It is a very good umbrella."

The bus came.

They got on.

Mia sat by the window with Nana beside her.

The town went past.

The river.

The bridge.

Sara's house with the red roof.

The school.

The shop.

"Nana," Mia said quietly.

"Do you still miss it?"

Nana did not ask what.

She knew.

"Sometimes," she said.

"On dark days. But not often."

"What helps?"

Nana put her old hand on Mia's hand.

"This," she said.

"Today. The bus. The window. You."

Mia looked out at the bright morning.

She could not see tomorrow any more.

But today was here, and today was enough.