Chapter 4
At lunch, Grace crossed to the main courtyard. Usually, upperclassmen occupied the thick ledges around the large brick planters, choosing to take advantage of the sunny weather and eat outside. A step up from the loud cafeteria, which was always permeated with the scent of stale oil.
Today, with the sky overcast, most of the planters were empty. But even the low rumble of thunder didn’t stop Grace. She figured Zoe would still be here in their usual spot. They hated eating inside.
Grace saw her friend on the southernmost planters. They were furiously writing in a notebook. Probably lyrics or maybe a sketch.
Zoe claimed they came from a long line of “right-brain prodigies.” Grace had once told them that right-brain/left-brain thing was a myth, and it was actually the frontal cortex that probably contributed to creativity.
But Zoe had laughed and said “frontal-cortex prodigies” didn’t have the same ring.
Grace’s phone beeped. A text from Lincoln: Hey favor plz? Gotta makeup a test n forgot lunch
Lincoln was always doing makeup tests during season because of away-game travel and extra practices. Despite knowing that, he forgot to bring a lunch almost every time. He probably completely forgot to study too. She shuddered at just the thought of not studying for a test.
Grace knew she was probably going to help him, but she still replied: Oh no what r u gonna eat?
Lincoln sent back half a dozen sad faces and prayer hands emojis.
Grace debated ignoring him. Zoe always told her she catered to Lincoln too much. But Grace couldn’t just leave him to starve. So she typed back: I’ll buy you something for after your test
Lincoln: Ur the best Gracie! <3 u!
Grace laughed even as her pulse skipped two beats at the heart emoji. She knew it didn’t mean anything. Sending a heart emoji was like giving a high five. But she still grinned down at it.
“Grace Back to the Future!” Griffin Reed walked over, lifting his hand.
Griffin could have stepped directly out of a formulaic early-2000s teen movie with his thick dirty-blond hair and bright blue eyes. Except Grace wasn’t quite sure if he was the unintelligent jock or the misguided popular guy who needed a manic pixie dream girl to teach him to love.
Grace almost corrected him about her last name.
Almost told him it was pronounced Bahk, like Johann Sebastian Bach.
He was always getting it wrong, even though she’d known him for three years and Grace’s last name was just three letters.
But he probably didn’t mean any harm by it.
And correcting people always made them focus more on how she made them uncomfortable than how they were wrong in the first place.
It was just easier to let it go. So Grace just accepted the too-hard high five.
“How’s my VP doing?” he asked.
“Fine.”
Another reason Griffin set her nerves on edge: He was the one who’d beaten her for class president.
Which wouldn’t bother her, except he didn’t seem to care about doing the job.
He’d done exactly one thing since becoming president, and that was to choose to direct the fall athletic concession stand funds toward new uniforms for the varsity basketball team.
Technically a conflict of interest, since he was the co-captain.
“Hey! BTS.” Griffin pointed at Grace’s shirt.
Wrong again. And for some reason it bothered her more than the name mistake.
Maybe because it was not her he was dissing but SHINee.
After all, they did come first, and Korean hierarchy demanded seniority respect.
Even BTS would agree. But Grace didn’t correct him about that, either.
To most kids in school, all K-pop groups were BTS.
All Korean food was K-BBQ. And all K-dramas were Squid Game.
But it was better than what she used to get as a kid, which was classmates asking her “which Korea” she was from.
“Grace!” A sophomore named Mia rushed over. She looked like she was going to have an aneurysm. “Oh, um, hi, Griffin.”
A blush spread over her deep brown skin, reacting the way most girls at the school did around Griffin Reed.
“What’s the problem, Mia?” Grace asked.
“Oh.” Mia blinked at Grace through thick glasses.
“Um, the front office lost their copies of the receipts and contact information for the carnival food trucks.” She pulled out a roll of Tums, a regular thing with Mia, who was prone to stress heartburn.
“Mrs. Krol is getting pissed because she says she needs to know when to be here to open the security gates for them.”
Grace almost asked why they hadn’t asked her when she was literally in the front office this morning. But instead of complaining over the inefficiency of the front office, she went into problem-solving mode, pulled out her phone, and clicked through one of her many notes.
“Two food trucks. Buns on the Run is arriving Friday morning and needs to park in the junior lot. And Macho Taco will come at three and needs access to the front field to park. I’ll forward you the confirmation email,” Grace said, pulling it up.
“Oh good.” Mia stopped rubbing at her heartburn and instead used that hand to grasp Grace’s in gratitude. “I knew you’d have the answer. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” Grace said, but Mia was already heading back to the front office.
“That’s what I like about you,” Griffin said, ruffling her hair. “You’re such an Asian nerd, got everything all organized. I don’t even need to do anything!”
Not that you’d try to do anything anyway, Grace thought, even as she forced a smile, moving out of his reach to avoid more head pats.
“So, you know where Link is?” Griffin looked over her shoulder.
Grace followed his gaze and realized the other varsity players hadn’t arrived for lunch. She tried to tell herself that wasn’t the only reason Griffin was talking to her right now, but it seemed glaringly obvious that he was just killing time until his real friends showed up.
“He has a makeup test.”
“A test? That’s so lame!”
“Lame is an old and ableist term, Griffin.” Zoe walked over. “Maybe try to use more than two brain cells when you’re at school?”
Grace closed her eyes. The swarm of anxiety in her chest rose like Mia’s heartburn.
“You know that being woke isn’t the same as being cool, right?” Griffin said.
“ ‘Being cool’? When did we step into a John Hughes movie? You going to ask me to the perfect prom next?”
Griffin’s eyes narrowed, and Grace braced herself for the frost. But Griffin just laughed. “Funny. I’ll get the limo and you get the corsage?”
“Corsages are out too,” Zoe said. “It’s a deal-breaker.”
Griffin shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Go away, Griffin.” Zoe pointed to where the rest of the varsity basketball players were emerging from the cafeteria. “Your horde is here.”
Griffin sauntered away to join his team, looking relieved that his real friends had finally arrived.
“I don’t know how you call people out like that to their faces,” Grace said. “I could never.”
“Sure you can. Just tell them they’re being assholes but don’t make it a big deal,” Zoe said.
“I’m not like you. I care what people think of me.”
“Why? It doesn’t change anything when you try to be a people pleaser.” Zoe glanced at their phone. “Hey, so Teens is texting that there might be someone who can fill in as drummer after Dee sprained her wrist. Wanna come? It could be good, or it could be so bad it’s hilarious.”
Grace did like listening to Zoe’s band, a mix of old-school punk and new-school rock. But when she imagined sitting in on someone auditioning to play the drums, she already had a headache.
“I’ll pass. I should probably do another review before my physics quiz.”
Zoe cringed. “Oof, I can’t imagine studying during school.”
“Zo, that’s what school is for.”
“Not the way I do it.” They grinned. “See you after class?”
“Sure.” Grace waved as Zoe crossed the courtyard.
Alone, she popped into the cafeteria to grab a sandwich for Lincoln before making her way to the library. It was empty as a graveyard. Or emptier—graveyards actually had bodies in them.
Grace loved the school library, from the metal shelves that rolled on tracks to the row of desktops that hadn’t been updated in over a decade.
They still had the computers that used the bulky processing towers.
Five identical ones set out across the long table against the wall.
The place always smelled like old books and the lavender that Mrs. Jepson, the librarian, liked to wear. Both very soothing scents for Grace.
“Hello, Ms. Bak, I didn’t see you this morning.” Mrs. Jepson greeted Grace as she walked past the circular checkout desk.
The school librarian knowing you by name definitely meant you were a certified nerd. “Ah, yeah, I got to school late.”
“I have to move some boxes to the rooftop storage. Will you be okay here alone?”
“Oh, I can do it for you,” Grace volunteered, already starting forward to help.
“Thanks, sweetie, but I’m not supposed to let students go up on the roof.” Mrs. Jepson pulled a ring of keys out of a drawer.
“Well, I’ll be all right here. Just going to study until next period.
” Grace sat at one of the long tables in the middle of the library, eating her slightly smushed ham sandwich as she pulled out her physics notes and a variety of highlighters (all different colors, coordinating with different types of notes).
Zoe made fun of her study-prep tactics, but like her driving checks, it just made Grace feel more prepared.
Plus, her mom had always been super organized.
Everyone said it’s what made her such a good surgeon.
Even their pantry had everything meticulously labeled.
They still had the labels on each shelf, even though some were so faded they were impossible to read.
When Grace was younger, she used to run her fingers over the laminated stickers.
As if she could feel connected to her mom by touching something she’d once made.