Chapter Eleven
Sprinting to school in the morning wasn’t my favorite activity, but that was the consequence of staying up thinking about paradoxes and forgetting to set your alarm. The irony of a time traveler running late wasn’t lost on me.
As if that weren’t a bad enough omen, the air quality was also in the red zone, the sky a sickly shade of gray.
I’d grabbed one of my dad’s large dust masks by accident and it was slipping off my face as I dodged old ladies pushing their carts on the sidewalk, desperate to cross while I still had the walk light.
I was pulling my weight in calculus class recently, thanks to Yejun’s tutoring, but that didn’t mean I could afford to lose any participation points by showing up late.
I ran past the bench by the stream where Yejun and I had sat only a few days ago.
I found myself slowing down, my gaze lingering on the empty seat.
I shook my head and forced myself to keep walking, not to recall in vivid detail how the sunlight reflected in Yejun’s eyes and made them look golden brown, or how long his eyelashes were, or how delicately he’d touched my face, or …
I let out a frustrated sound and stormed past the bench.
It wasn’t my fault I was acting like this—Yejun looked like an actor from a face soap commercial.
Who wouldn’t feel nervous if he wanted to hold their hand all the time?
Plus, he was tutoring me, and people fell for their tutors all the time—something about emotional transference or admiration for kindness and intelligence or some other knee-jerk reaction to being helped.
Falling for Yejun was like getting sucked into white water rapids—there was nothing I could do about it.
About two blocks from school, I gave up on trying to hold my sweaty mask tight to my face and accepted that I was just going to breathe in toxic smog today.
It wouldn’t be the most dangerous thing I’d done by a long shot.
I was coughing within half a block, but it would wear off once I got inside. At least, I hoped so.
As if the universe was intent on sabotaging me that morning, a minitruck turned a corner too sharply in front of me, dumping its load of watermelons into the street.
By some miracle, I managed not to crush my toes under any melons or get hit by a car in the chaos. Traffic came to a standstill; drivers peered out their windows wondering whose job it was to push the watermelons out of the road, or if they should just barrel through them.
That was when I saw Yejun.
I didn’t normally run into him before class because he always strolled in right before the bell. But that morning, I spotted his blond hair from the other side of the crosswalk. Am I actually later than Kim Yejun? I thought, grimacing. How far I’ve fallen.
But as the crowd dispersed on the other side of the street, Yejun placed his hand on the waist of a girl next to him.
I drew to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, my breath caught in my throat.
Yejun knew other girls? When had he even had time to get that close to someone?
I squinted but couldn’t figure out who the girl was—everyone wore the same school uniform, and almost every girl had dark hair.
She and Yejun turned the corner and disappeared.
I felt the inexplicable urge to turn around and run back home, go back to bed and try again tomorrow. My face felt hot, my skin prickling, throat tight with something dangerously close to tears.
Of course I wasn’t the only girl Yejun was trying to charm.
Maybe he needed me to fix the timeline, but he needed another girl to make him dinner, another to drive him around, another to help him bleach his frustratingly perfect hair.
He was handsome enough that all he’d have to do was ask nicely and let them hold his hand for a bit and they’d do whatever he asked, just like me.
I thought back to earlier this week, how I’d wondered if he’d taken me on a date, and my face burned with embarrassment for having been so foolish, for thinking Yejun would ever want me that way.
We were only working together because I was a foreigner—he’d said so himself.
The other girl was probably smart and sweet and fluent in Korean, probably didn’t have huge feet and hair that frizzed in the rain and was probably an acceptable height for a high school girl instead of a crooked string bean like me.
I stomped up the stairs to the school’s main entrance and stopped in the bathroom even though I was running late, just to make sure I didn’t look like I’d been crying before I walked into class.
I carefully molded my face into an expression of indifference and strolled unhurriedly into homeroom, dropping into my seat between Yejun and Jihoon.
“Mina,” Yejun said at once, brightening as he saw me.
“Morning,” I said stiffly, turning my back to him and facing Jihoon with a smile. Jihoon went still like a prey animal, gaze shifting between me and Yejun before tentatively holding out a bottle of Yakult.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said quietly.
“And miss this?” I said, peeling back the foil on the yogurt bottle. “This is my favorite part of the morning.”
Jihoon smiled. “Really?”
I flinched as something sharp poked me between the shoulder blades.
I glanced over my shoulder at Yejun, who had jabbed me with a pencil.
“Mina,” he said, smirking like watching me and Jihoon was amusing to him.
I swallowed down the urge to splash the Yakult in his face. “We need to talk after school.”
“I’m busy,” I said, turning back to Jihoon.
But of course, Yejun didn’t take the hint.
“With what?” Yejun said over my shoulder. “It’s important.”
“I have plans,” I said. “Right, Jihoon?”
Jihoon went still. “I … uh … yes!” he said, finally catching on to the dangerous edge of my smile. “Whatever you want, Mina.”
“Unbelievable,” Yejun said. “Anything for a few points, huh?”
“Points?” Jihoon echoed.
I will murder you the moment we’re in private, I vowed silently, whirling around and glaring at Yejun.
“Caffebene loyalty points!” I said, smiling at Jihoon and praying I didn’t look too murderous. “If I get two more, I can get a free coffee. You like coffee, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon said, shoulders relaxing. “We can go there.”
Mr. Oh hurried into the classroom and mercifully ended the conversation. I spent the rest of the period desperately trying to think of nothing but calculus, only so I wouldn’t plot out elaborate ways to push Yejun out the window without getting caught.
As soon as the bell music played, I looped my arm around Jihoon’s and swept him out of the classroom before Yejun could try to talk to me. I should have felt bad for using Jihoon as my human shield, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I spent the rest of the school day avoiding Yejun like it was an Olympic sport, taking sick satisfaction from the fact that he seemed genuinely annoyed. It served him right. He always looked so unbothered—it would be good for him to actually feel something for once.
I all but dragged Jihoon out the front door once school was finally over.
“I think I forgot my calculus book,” he said, glancing back at the school building.
“Leave it,” I said, lacing my fingers through his. He jolted like I’d electrocuted him, then his muscles relaxed and he pressed closer to me, letting me lead him quickly down the hill. The last thing I wanted was to run into—
“Mina!”
I sighed, walking faster, but Yejun hurried down the stairs after us. “I don’t know what your deal is, but there is actually important stuff that we need to talk about,” he said.
If anything was that urgent, you wouldn’t have time to go chasing after girls, I thought. I let go of Jihoon’s hand and crossed my arms. “What, a calculus emergency?” I said.
“Calculus?” Yejun said.
“Yes, because that’s all we talk about outside of school,” I said, positioning myself between Jihoon and Yejun. “You tutor me in calculus. That’s the only reason I talk to you.”
Yejun scoffed. “Obviously,” he said. “I would never spend time with someone like you for any other reason but charity.”
My eye twitched, and I looked away so he wouldn’t see how much his words stung. Of course he would have preferred to work with literally any other girl in class.
“Uh, that’s kind of harsh,” Jihoon said quietly.
“It’s fine,” I said, even as Yejun’s expression softened.
“Mina,” Yejun said, “I just meant—”
“We’re going,” I said, grabbing Jihoon’s arm and turning him around. I fully intended to keep walking and ignoring Yejun until he gave up, but I drew to a stop as I saw who was standing at the bottom of the hill.
“Mina Bean!”
No way, I thought, blinking quickly. Had yellow dust gotten into my eyes? No way is he here.
But sure enough, there was my dad, standing at the bottom of the hill, waving with both hands. At least he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of the military uniform he wore more often than not these days, which would have been hard to explain. He jogged up to the three of us, smiling.
“I got a dinner break for once!” he said. “Isn’t it great? I thought I’d surprise you and we could go out to eat together. Unless you were busy…” He looked unsubtly at Yejun. “Are you Mina’s boyfriend?”
“Dad!” I said. What was it about Yejun that looked inherently more boyfriend-like than Jihoon? Poor Jihoon looked like he’d just been slapped in the face.
But Yejun only grinned. “Just her calculus tutor at the moment,” he said in English—since when could he speak perfect English? “But why rush into things? I’m Yejun Kim.”
He held his hand out to my father and gave him a strong handshake. I wondered if I could push him down the stairs and make it look like an accident.
“This is Jihoon,” I said, tugging Jihoon forward by the arm. “Jihoon, this is my dad,” I said in Korean.
Jihoon bowed and sputtered out a greeting, which my father took in stride.