The bell chimed—a soft, melodic sound that was nothing like the jarring BRRRNNG I was used to back home. Mr. Kang stopped talking, mid-sentence. "Right, that's it. Read the chapter on '90s balladry for next time."
The class was instantly in motion. The girl with the pink phone—Kang Min-ah—didn't get swarmed by an entourage, but as she packed her bag, a few other students did orbit her desk, leaning in.
"...and I heard he failed the audition," one girl whispered. "He didn't just fail," Min-ah said, zipping her bag with a snap. "He cried. In front of the judges. It's over for him." She was the center of the conversation, the one who had the news. She was bright, animated, and her voice had a confident, "I know everything" edge.
As she stood, she caught me watching. I quickly looked away, fumbling with my notebook. She walked right over to my desk. I tensed, but she just leaned against it, crossing her arms.
"You're the talk of the school, San-ssi," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, friendly tone. "'Kirin's Secrets' is having a field day."
"Kirin's Secrets?" I asked, my voice barely a squeak.
"The school's anonymous gossip board," she said, tapping her pink phone. "And you, 'Mountain,' are the number one trending topic. You're... interesting." She gave me a brilliant, conspiratorial wink while drawing a mountain in the air with her finger.
"I'm Kang Min-ah. I'll see you around. Try not to break anything." She laughed at her own joke and then swept out of the room, her friends scrambling to keep up with her chatter.
I followed the river of students, my stomach rumbling. I'd been awake for nearly 24 hours. The crowd spilled into a massive, multi-level concourse that led to the cafeteria.
The Kirin cafeteria wasn't just a room. It was an atrium. It was a huge, two-story space with a glass ceiling that flooded the room with light. It could have easily seated five hundred students. The noise of chatter, trays, and cooking echoed off the sleek, modern surfaces. Stations for Korean, Chinese, Western, and Japanese food lined one entire wall.
It was also, currently, a social minefield. I grabbed one of the metal trays, a set of metal chopsticks, and a spoon. I navigated the Korean line, my mouth watering. Today's special was kimchi-jjigae—a bubbling, spicy, red-hot pork stew. "Here, haksaeng (student)," the lunch lady said, smiling. She plopped a ceramic bowl of the stew onto my tray, next to my rice and three small banchan (side) dishes.
I turned to face the room. My heart sank. It was a sea of uniforms, and every table seemed to be part of an established territory.
In the far-left corner, by the floor-to-ceiling windows, was the rebels' zone. Myung-Dae and his crew with other unfamiliar faces had pushed several tables together, creating a loud, chaotic island. They were laughing, throwing food, and looked like they were having way too much fun. A definite "danger zone."
But they had a decent vibe of themselves. A momentous thought of me drilling the streets of Seoul on a motorbike like those bad guys from K-Dramas flashed through my head.
But I quickly brushed it off. I was scared of speed.
The front sections, near the faculty tables, were the "Perfects" territory. Model students, student council members, and academic club leaders. I spotted Jun-seo and Ha-neul at a table there. They were in a quiet, serious-looking discussion, their heads bent over a notebook. They looked like they were running a small government.
The rest of the room was a blur of a dozen other cliques I couldn't even begin to understand.
I needed a safe spot. Jun-seo looked up from his notebook, his "class president" radar must have sensed the lost-student-vibe. He saw me, and his face broke into that warm, welcoming smile. He gave me a wave, gesturing to the empty seat at their table. A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God.
I started the long walk, my eyes locked on their table, concentrating on not dropping my tray. "Excuse me... jwe-song-hamnida..." I mumbled, slipping between tables, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.
I was so focused on Jun-seo, on not looking like the new, clumsy foreigner, that I didn't see the girl who had been holding court at the table right in front of me. She had just stood up, laughing at something her friend said, and turned to walk away, stepping right into my path.
I took one more step. And I walked, with my entire body, directly into her. I stumbled. The tray lurched. Time slowed down.
I saw the red-hot bowl of kimchi-jjigae lift off my tray. I saw it flip, in a perfect, horrifying arc. I saw where it was going to land.
"Oh, Aish—"
SPLAT.
It hit her. It hit the most beautiful, intimidating, and flawlessly dressed girl I had ever seen. She wasn't just "popular"; she looked like she owned the building. Her blazer was tailored perfectly. Her hair was in a sleek, perfect ponytail. Even her ribbon tie looked more expensive than the others.
The kimchi-jjigae hit her, dead center. Her pristine, expensive, perfectly white uniform shirt was drenched in bright, steaming, pungent red stew. Chunks of kimchi and pork clung to her.
The cafeteria, which had been buzzing with a thousand conversations, went completely, utterly, dead silent. It was the loudest silence I had ever heard. Every single student was frozen, staring
The girl's friends, who had been laughing a second before, just stared, their hands clapped over their mouths in identical gestures of horror.
The girl slowly looked down. She stared at the red liquid dripping from her shirt onto her plaid skirt. She watched, as if in slow motion, as a piece of soggy pork slid off her shoulder and landed on her immaculate designer shoe.
She looked up. Her eyes—dark, cold, and perfect—found mine. I was frozen. My tray was still tilted. My mouth was open. "Jwe-song..." I whispered, my brain totally offline. "Eotteokhae... I'm so... I'm sorry... I..." I grabbed a flimsy napkin from my tray and, like an absolute idiot, reached out to dab at her shirt.
Her face, which had been pale and perfect, was now a dangerous, blotchy red. She wasn't amused. She wasn't laughing. She was furious. "Look at this!" she shrieked, her voice high and piercing, breaking the silence. "Do you know who I am?! This is disgusting!"