Mismatch by Lensey Namioka

face.
    After a while, she began to stir. “How are you doing?” he asked gently.
    Sue yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Not bad. I must have slept a couple of hours, I think. How ’bout you?”
    “Maybe I dozed between movies,” he lied. “I should have turned the headphones off and tried to get some rest, but I couldn’t really sleep much. Too nervous, I guess.”
    Finally, with a huge bump, the plane touched down on the runway. Andy sat impatiently as the plane taxied to the gate. It seemed to take forever, but the plane finally stopped, there was a
beep,
and the seat belt sign went off. People began to move. Andy got up and retrieved his violin from the overhead compartment. The doors were opened, and he and Sue picked up their backpacks and followed the crowd. Andy’s legs felt like rubber. After that long trip, he couldn’t get out of the plane fast enough.
    But at the same time he wasn’t quite ready to set his foot on Japanese land—the land where his ancestors had come from. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door of the plane. Now he was
really
in Japan.
    But the terminal looked just like any other airport terminal. Many of the signs were even in English, Andy noted with disappointment. Feeling slightly deflated, he followed the other Lakeview kids through the immigration line. That didn’t take long, since the whole orchestra passed through as one party.
    The wait for their luggage was tedious, and then they had to go through customs. It took even longer than usual because they had to wait for everybody in their party. Finally, about an hour or so after they’d landed, they were out.
    Waiting for them just outside customs was a big crowd of Japanese people. Andy guessed they were their host families. Mr. Baxter walked over to meet a middle-aged Japanese man, who Andy remembered as the Kasei School’s orchestra conductor. Andy couldn’t help contrasting the Japanese man, who wore a neat suit and tie, with Mr. Baxter, who wore a rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Andy realized that he must look pretty rumpled, too. He hoped his host family wouldn’t hold it against him.
    Mr. Baxter began to read out the names of the orchestra members, and after each name was read, the school representative read out the name of the host family. Andy saw that some of the orchestra members were greeted warmly by Japanese students he recognized from the Kasei School’s visit. Some of his fellow orchestra members were being reunited with the Japanese players they had hosted.
    Andy heard Sue’s name being read, and then the name Chong. Andy frowned. That wasn’t a Japanese name. Sue had just joined the orchestra this year, so she wouldn’t know any of the Japanese players and would be staying with strangers. Sue smiled nervously and gave Andy a little wave, then went off to join a serious-looking middle-aged couple.
    Andy would also be staying with strangers. He had to wait a long time before he was called, since their names were in alphabetical order. Finally, he heard his name, followed by the name Sato. A short, middle-aged couple and a teenage girl stepped forward to greet him.
    The Satos looked about the same age as Andy’s own parents. Mr. and Mrs. Sato were the exact same height, which was more than a head shorter than Andy. The daughter was a little taller than her parents, but not much, and she looked as slender as a blade of grass. Looming over the family, Andy felt like a Kodiak bear.
    Andy bowed, and then his mind went blank. With a great effort, he managed to dredge up the phrase he had been rehearsing before leaving home,
“Hajime mashite.”
It was the Japanese phrase used when greeting someone for the first time.
    Mr. Sato smiled and poured a torrent of Japanese over Andy. Andy blushed.
Great. Now they think I’m fluent.
“Uh . . . I’m afraid my Japanese isn’t so good,” Andy said, trying to look apologetic.
    Mr. Sato abruptly stopped smiling and switched into English. “This is my wife, and this