I can't believe what I'm seeing right now. A couple on the street is sharing a passionate kiss under the rain. I look around, considering the possibility of a film crew somewhere. It's so movie-like that I can almost hear a cheesy soundtrack playing in the background. Followed by a roll of the credits as the couple's picture pans out, of course—a happily ever after and the biggest lie ever told. In real life, they get separated after a year, or maybe they wake up the next day and it's over, just like that. Nothing lasts forever, that’s what my parents taught me.
I cringe as the make-out session gets intense. What the hell is wrong with these people? Looking for a distraction that doesn't make me want to gag, I head toward the 7/11 just across from me. The road is getting slippery from the weather so I struggle to keep my balance. The last thing I need is a sore butt from falling into the pavement. I have work to do, after all.
I slow down a bit as I hear footsteps behind me, looking up as the person passes me by. I frown at what I see. Asian, with a beautiful face, flawless skin, and an outfit that can probably buy an entire country. He looks exactly like the type who has had it easy his whole life. I already hate his guts.
The guy doesn't bat an eye as he notices me staring at him, which means he's probably used to it, too. He does give me a nod and opens the door for me, though, so I'd give him that.
Inside the store, a bored-looking cashier is inspecting a hangnail. She straightens as she catches sight of the guy and I try not to roll my eyes. Of course, she'd be interested in him. Mr. Cool (this is what we're calling the guy now) just nods at her non-committally, heading straight into the freezer. I smirk at his reaction. Most guys usually just go for it—especially if the girl's attractive. This guy must really think highly of himself.
"There's a bar across the street, and you're picking drinks at the 7/11?" I say, slowly approaching Mr. Cool. His head is bent, deep in contemplation about his drink choices. For a second, I think I hear him let out an annoyed sigh.
"I don't drink. I'm still a minor," Mr. Cool replies after a while, not even turning his attention away from the freezer. Rude. I hang around him, suddenly unsure of myself. He obviously didn't want the company. Come to think of it, I'm not the kind to strike up a conversation with a stranger in the middle of the night either. I know full well how dangerous this area is after dark. I guess it figures that the one time I try to entertain my friendlier side, I do it in front of Mr. Cool.
I narrow my eyes at him as he continues to choose his drink carefully. He must have noticed me staring daggers at him, but he continues pretending to be the only person in the room. Picking up a set of chips on one of the shelves, Mr. Cool pats the back pocket of his jeans. The sight of his wallet makes me remember something I was meant to do. Slowly, a smile creeps up my face.
"Oooh...orange juice," I drawl, pretending to reach over him for a can. He finally turns his attention to me, clearly annoyed now. But before he can say anything, l snatch up the wallet from his back pocket.
"Hey!'' he shouts after me as I swiftly exit the store, splashing my way across the street. I don't pause to look back, maneuvering the puddles in front of me and praying to the gods that I don't slip. I hear Mr. Cool's footsteps and loud cursing behind me. I snicker. Good luck to him. I've never been caught in a chase before.
I keep running, my ears working double-time to hear any signs of him catching up to me. I round into a dark alley, hoping that would discourage him from picking up his pace. But he keeps giving chase, so I run even faster. It takes a long while before I’m certain that I'm out of the woods, and I stop to catch my breath.
"Aah!! You scared the shit out of me!' I scream. My hand flies toward my chest as my best friend Maisie suddenly appears in front of me. Scoffing, she has her hands on her hips, looking at me reproachfully. I look down at her feet. Gone were the usual five-inch heels that she wears. This means that she wore flat shoes just so she can sneak up on me. This is serious. Real serious.
I step back, holding both my hands up in surrender.
"Last one. I swear it. That guy just pissed me off. He's just...so detached? Collected? You know, like he’s God’s gift to humanity. It just... annoyed me." I tell Maisie.
She looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Are you insane? What kind of an excuse is that for robbing someone?"
"Um…didn't you ever get bothered by someone because they look so cool and suddenly felt the urge to steal from them?" I ask her cheekily, despite knowing full well that I'm not going to get away with it.
"No, Dina Marie. Get your brain fixed." Maisie says, pulling her hair in frustration. "You promised me you would change," She adds, looking so mournful it almost breaks my heart.
"Sorry, Maze," I say, knowing she knows what I'm apologizing for. That's how it's always been for us. We can tell each other stories with just one look. I guess that happens when you only have one friend your entire life. The bond has no choice but to get deeper and deeper. It’s just sad that no matter what she says, I won't be stopping my late-night excursions soon.
I hate disappointing her. I really do. But I have a goal and time is running out. I can't welcome distractions now, not even from Maisie.
We stare at each other for a while, her dismay getting more palpable as it becomes evident that I won't tell her anything. "Call me after three days," she tells me before finally walking away.
I almost call her back to say that we should walk home together. But she would probably insist that she can take care of herself and throw me an even more annoyed look. I don't want her to be mad at me for more than three days.
I sigh, sliding into the dirty ground. Trying not to think about the fact that I just drove my only friend away, I look at the wallet in my hand. For reasons that I cannot tell Maisie, I need money. And Mr. Cool should have it tucked inside this Prada wallet. Holding my breath excitedly, I pull it open.
"What?" I utter in disgust, closing the thing with a snap. Who puts only fifty bucks inside a Prada leather wallet? I open it again and rummage some more. There are a couple of receipts for car maintenance transactions and several debit and credit cards inside, but no more cash.
"Of course. Mr. Cool uses cards. God damn it." I realize in irritation. And if he's smart, and I feel he is, he's probably already called to cancel all these cards. I flip the wallet in my hand, not knowing what to do with it anymore.
Giving it another chance, I look at it again. On the front is a photo of Mr. Cool as a kid, his parents on either side of him. It's your classic picture of a happy family. I frown at it, trying to remember if my parents and I have ever posed for a photo like this, but the memory does not come to mind.
As if by instinct, I slip my fingers behind the image and feel something shift. I pull it out curiously. It's a folded piece of paper. I open it and my eyes bug out at the words written there.
Suddenly, the rain is louder in my ears, and I feel my head spin a bit.
What the hell is this doing in a stranger's wallet?
-LETTERS START HERE-
September 3, 2015
Dear Dad,
How are you? I know. Kind of a stupid question to ask, huh? I can only imagine how horrible it must be where you are. But I know you'll be okay. You're you, after all.
Anyway, I just want you to know; Mom is officially insane. Ever since I agreed to move in with her and the "love of her life" (a.k.a. the completely clueless rich guy named Arnold Moon), she's been like a different person. All aspects of our life suddenly turned Korean. She's been cooking Korean food daily, which must be eaten with chopsticks (or so she insists). She's now using their weird skin products, too, and wearing their cutesy outfits. She's even learning the language from an online school. I swear, the only thing left is for us to move to Korea, and it scares the hell out of me. I never really checked where Arnold came from. What if it was the one with the dictator? Which is it again? North or South? I can never remember.
Whichever it is, if I ever start loving anything from that place, consider me crazier than Mom. And in case you're wondering, I am not racist toward Koreans. I get discriminated against for being different than 90% of the population here, too. It's just the principle of the thing. If Arnold were a white guy related to the British Queen, I would also hate Europe.
I don't know. Maybe I'm being pathetic. I guess I just can't accept the fact that Mom's moved on now, happy with her life, while we're both so miserable.
I miss you, Dad. If this letter ever makes it to you, please let me visit.
Love, Dina
___________________________
September 10, 2015
Dear Koko,
How are you, my dear grandmother? Guess what! I am visiting you soon. I told Mom and her new husband, Arnold, that I needed a break from school, and they thought it'd be a great idea. Dad has given his consent too. I know it sounds too good to be true, but they really did!
Since Dad told me you love them, I am bringing you lots and lots of chocolates from here. You don't have diabetes, right? You also don't have dentures? Never mind. I'll bring some dark chocolates and chocolates without nuts, just in case.
Please send my regards to everyone, Koko. If there's anything they want me to bring for them, please ask them for me, too.
I miss you. I can't wait to visit!
Love, Dina Marie
___________________________
September 11, 2015
Dear Maisie,
(This thing is called a letter, please pick up a pen and paper to reply to me. You told me you love being my best friend because I'm so old-fashioned, so prove it.)
I am not doing anything sketchy. So, please do not follow me around. I promised you that I had changed, didn't I? Please, just focus on taking care of your sick boyfriend. I will be fine.
I will be moving in with Mom and Arnold soon (and I am not looking forward to it, as I'm sure you know). I just don't know when yet because Mom is all over the place with her excitement, and Arnold is super busy, so they can never decide. I will give you all the details once it actually happens.
Again--please stop following me around. You’re not very stealthy. I can hear your heeled boots clicking from miles away.
Love, Dina
There's Kimchi on the table again. For breakfast. I look at my stepfather. The genius and the billionaire Arnold Moon. He's about fifty, but you can never guess that when you look at him. I'm still not sure if it's the Asian genes or the plastic surgeries, though. Probably both. "How's sleep, Dina?" Arnold finally notices me, folding the newspaper he's reading. I can't help but glance at his perfectly manicured hands. I suppress a shudder. This dude is just way more in touch with his feminine side than me. "Good," I answer vaguely. I realize that the best way to deal with parents is just to give them one-worded answers to their questions. "That's great," Arnold replies cheerfully, then we are silent for a while. "Oh. I meant to ask you. I left my Rolex on this table last night after dinner. Did you happen to see it?" Arnold queries suddenly, turning his attention back to me. "Nope. Maybe Mom found it and kept it for you?" For once, I am telling the truth. It's one of the conditio
With quick reflexes, Mr. Cool grabs my head just before it can hit the ground and push me into his chest. He then rolls gracefully into his back, keeping a tight hold on me for the whole while. I huff, struggling to breathe in his proximity. "Wh-what are you doing?"I stammer as I realize the position that I found myself in. "Get off of me!" I shout, turning around and pushing my weight off his chest. Without thinking, I put my arm against his neck. "Dina! Stop!" somebody shouts behind us and my senses wash back into me. I lean back a little, embarrassed, while David remains lying on the floor, wincing in pain. "Dave! Please, no. Dave. Don't die on me, bro. " David's friend wails as he crawls toward David. The hell? I scoot farther away from them, weirded out by the sudden dramatics. "Brad, please don't embarrass yourself," Kier says, surveying the scene with hands on his hips. I place his voice as the one who shouted for me to stop, and I probably owe him for that. Around us, peop
David and I walk together in silence, and I am secretly relieved by it. I would never admit it out loud, but this game we're playing is making me uneasy. I wish for a moment that he would just confront me about his wallet again. Noticing that he's slowed down, I look back at him, cocking my eyebrows up. He's frowning at me, distracted. "David?" I snap him back to attention. "Yeah, everything's fine," he tells me, suddenly awkward. He scratches his flushed neck, and the movement exposed a bruise on his shoulder. Judging by the look of it, it's most probably from our encounter in the hallways yesterday. I probably should apologize for that. He's a jerk, but he did protect me from getting seriously hurt when we fell down. "So, um...." I start, clearing my throat. Obviously, I'm not used to apologizing. "I also want to say sorry for what happened yesterday. You know, that thing with the running and chasing and you hitting your head. Then me almost choking you..." David smiles, notici
"Nice performance back there." David comments, opening the front door seat for me. I scowl at him. I still don't understand how someone can be so considerate and horrible at the same time. "You know what, I should smack you for that. You? My boyfriend?! Not in a million years." "You did just confirm it to your parents, though," he says, nodding towards the windows of Arnold's house, where my parents are looking. Ugh. I can't believe I have to go to school today with this bozo. Huffing, climb up the front seat like it's a protest. As I try to get myself comfortable, I make the mistake of glancing at David. "What?" I rasp. He's staring at me quite intensely. "Do I have something on my face?" "Nothing," he says, breaking into an annoying smile. "I'm just wondering how long you can keep this up." I give him my best villain smile in return, "Keep up with what? Your craziness?" He shrugs, "If you say so." "I'm crazier than you. You're not getting anything from me." "Huh. We'll s
David and I look down at our linked hands, horrified. In my periphery, some of the class glance over at us curiously."Mr. Jung. Looking sharp, as always." Brad says, greeting Mr. Jung, our Peer Communications facilitator, as the latter enters the room gaily. "Oh. Thank you, Brandon." Mr. Jung says, looking pleased. He presses his hand on his striped black and white suit, which seems a little too zebra-like to me. Whatever. I need him to get these guys straightened out. "Mr. Jung, good morning." I make sure to smile at him despite my growing distress. "Can I get a little help here?" I say, shaking mine and David's handcuffed arms in front of him. David grimaces in pain as his shoulders get forced into action. Mr. Jung's eyes then travel down to my handcuffed hands. His forehead knotted. "Oh! Is this the experiment?" he exclaims cheerfully. David and I look at each other in apprehension. "Yes, it's the experiment for our social sciences class, Mr. Jung. The one I told you about,"
I made a huge mistake. David and Kier are not together, and it's apparently a running joke in their circle of friends, they almost die laughing about it every time it comes up. Pricks. "Why are we in the cafeteria?" I ask Sebastian once the maniacal laughter has died down. After my deathmatch with David, he all but drags me to meet the infamous student council to determine my fate. The way he says it, I was half-expecting to be brought into a coliseum with a den full of lions underneath, ready to gobble me up once I'm proven guilty. Instead, I get brought to the cafeteria to 'sit down and behave'. Like a kid. He even gives me a juice box. "We're having a meeting about your crimes. This..." Sebastian says, opening his arms wide to gesture at his friends. " ...is the student council." I pause from sipping my juice, waiting for him to say he's kidding. I look over the cramped cafeteria table. Half of the people in this 'student council' are the ones who had harassed me ever since I fir
I stretch my arms up overhead, trying to soothe the tension in my shoulders. I am holed up in my room, trying to prepare for an English quiz that I do not even care about. But I need to get into my Mom's good graces. I need her permission to visit my Dad, since I'm having no luck finding Uncle Fern. I have so many questions for him. Starting with his name randomly tucked in David's wallet. As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear Mom's characteristic knock on my door. "Come in," I call out. I know from the tired look on her face that she just got off the phone with Dad. She always ends up this way whenever she has to interact with him. It's been years since their divorce, but they still can't deal with each other. "Did you talk to him? Can I see him now?" I ask Mom as she enters. "Come on. It's Saturday." "Don't you have a quiz you're studying for?" Mom inquires, glancing at the mess on my desk. "I'm already halfway done. I'll finish the rest of the coverage when I get home." I
"Not going to happen," I tell Boi, my mother's younger brother. He's knocking loudly on my old bedroom door, and it's not helping my mood. After visiting Dad, I couldn't bring myself to face David, so I escaped from him and immediately headed to our old apartment, which Boi now occupies after Mom and I moved in with Arnold. "Dina. I swear to God I will break down this door. I need to change. That's not your room anymore, remember? " Boi says from the other side of the door, his voice faint. Sighing heavily, I slowly drag myself out of bed. I open the door an inch, peering at my uncle. "You look like hell," he observes. I ignore him and open the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. I try to step out to give him space. But I am reminded of my dilemma again, so I end up flopping back down on the bed. "Dina Marie. I said I need to change." Boi looks down at me reproachfully. He has a towel wrapped around his lower body and another around his head. His dark skin glistens with