I sat there, tray-less, head in my hands. The entire cafeteria was still buzzing, and I was the reason. "My life is over," I muttered into my palms. "First day."
Across from me, Ha-neul was finally getting her laughter under control. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You... you have terrible luck, San-ssi," she said, her voice still shaky. "Of all people..."
Before I could respond, another shadow fell over our table. Oh, no. What now? Chae-rin's father? The police?
I looked up. It was a group of three guys, but they were different. They were big. They weren't wearing the sleek, tailored blazers. They were in official, school-branded Kirin track jackets, the kind reserved for sports teams.
The one in the lead, who looked like he could bench-press the entire table, grinned at me.
"Hey! You're the new kid, right?" he boomed, his voice friendly and loud, drawing a fresh wave of stares. "The Ukrainian?" I just nodded, bracing for impact.
He slapped his hand on the table, making our water glasses jump.
"That was awesome!" I blinked.
"What?"
"I'm Choi Kang-min," he said, giving me a short, informal bow. He was clearly a senior, a seonbae. "Third year, Taekwondo team captain. These are Jang Hae-bon and Lee Sang-bin, second years, my best friends, they are in a swimming team!" He jabbed a thumb at his friends. "We saw the whole thing from our table. Daebak."
Another guy, with the thick neck of a wrestler, chimed in:
"Seriously, hoobae. Yoo Chae-rin? No one even breathes on her. And you..." He started laughing. "You called her 'deoreowo'!"
Kang-min clapped me on the shoulder, a friendly, bone-crushing gesture that nearly sent me out of my chair. "You've got guts, 'Mountain'! I don't know how you do things in Ukraine, but you really know how to make an entrance!"
"It... it was an accident!" I protested, my voice cracking. "I used the wrong word!"
"A 'mistake'?" Lee Sang-bin roared, loving it. "That's the best 'mistake' I've seen all year! Listen, the 'snobs' in this school," he gestured vaguely toward where Chae-rin had been, "can be a pain. If they give you trouble, you come find us in the sports wing. Got it?"
"Uh... ye, seonbaenim. Thank you." "Good," he said, his expression turning serious for a split second. "Eat well." And with that, the trio sauntered off, laughing amongst themselves, leaving another stunned silence in their wake.
I looked at Ha-neul. Her face was a complicated mask. "Great," she muttered, adjusting her notebook. "Now the 'jocks' like you." She didn't sound like it was a good thing.
Just then, Jun-seo returned to the table. His "class president" mask was firmly back in place, but he looked exhausted. "Okay," he said, sitting down with a sigh. "I think I calmed her down. She's... gone to the nurse's office to 'check for shock.'" He shot me a look. "She wants you to pay for the blouse. Which, she made a point of telling me, is from Prada." I groaned. That was probably more than my entire scholarship stipend for the month.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, feeling sick. "I'll... I'll pay for it."
"Don't worry dry cleaning would be enough," Ha-neul scoffed.
Jun-seo laughed and added:
"Yeah, she's always like that. She doesn't like someone interrupting her meal."
"She hates ugly faces more…"
A low mocking whisper resounded from behind. That was Myung-dae.
"Dae, your comments here are unnecessary."
"Oh, our little Jun-Jun has got a new puppy under his wing."
Jun-seo's jaw tightened.
I couldn't sit here. I was tray-less. I was a social pariah to one group and a mascot to another. I needed to escape. And then I remembered. "My guitar," I said suddenly. Ha-neul and Jun-seo both looked at me.
"My guitar. I left it. In the faculty office. With Ms. Choi." It was the perfect excuse. I stood up, grabbing my backpack. The desire to flee was overwhelming. "I should... I should go get it. Now."
Jun-seo nodded, probably relieved to have me out of his sight.
I deliberately stopped before Myung-dae's face and bumped into him with my shoulder.
"Dae you…"
I didn't hear the rest.
I was halfway to the cafeteria exit when Ha-neul's voice cut through the noise. "San-ssi!" I turned. "Next class is PE," she said, her voice flat. "In the main gymnasium." She gestured to my jeans. "You can't wear that. And you don't have a cheyugbog (gym uniform)."
"Oh. Right. What do I...?"
"When you're at the faculty office," she said, already turning back to her notes, "find Mrs. Choi. Ask her. She'll tell you to get a loaner tracksuit from the PE teacher. His office is by the gym."
She paused, then looked up one last time, a tiny, ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. "And San-ssi?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to call the PE teacher 'filthy.' They're very sensitive."