1 #3
Mido had never heard any girl talk like this.
Even her brothers didn’t use these words.
At her school in Sydney, you could be sent to the principal’s office for name-calling.
In their homeroom, Yun was an ideal and well-spoken student.
In the washroom, she was someone else. Even her pretty face seemed less placid, her teeth clenched, her jaw firm, and in her anger, the cords of her thin neck had become more visible.
Yun examined Mido’s hands. There were pink stripes across the meat of her palms.
“Most of the teachers here are pretty nice and never hit us, but I’d heard about Mr. Na from the older students.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Yun let out a short laugh.
“My mother says it’s my fault when the teacher hits me.
My father says it’s good for me to get the shit kicked out of me by the teacher because then I’ll study harder. ”
Mido couldn’t imagine her parents thinking hitting was necessary.
Yun stared hard at Mido’s face, trying to read any meaning behind her dark eyes.
Since school started, the new girl had barely spoken beyond faint murmurs of assent for roll call.
Somehow Mido’s silence had not troubled Yun.
In a way, she felt more drawn to the new student.
Mido made Yun feel useful, which she liked.
“But I disagree with them,” Yun added. “I don’t study harder because the teachers could hit me.
I don’t usually get hit, but I don’t want to watch anyone else get in trouble, either.
I just hate the teachers who do this. There must be other ways to make your point.
” She shrugged. “Anyway, save yourself some trouble at home, and don’t tell your parents what happened today. ”
Yun glanced in the metal mirror, then looked away as quickly as if the pretty girl in the reflection were a surprise to her.
“Just imagine if you had messed up problem ten.” Yun raised both her hands, splaying all ten fingers. “Ten smacks.” She giggled.
“Mr. Na doesn’t know anything. He won’t teach you, but he expects you to get the right answers.
If you get something wrong, he’ll hit you again and again.
I heard that when he gets really fired up, he can use the broomstick on your legs.
The ruler’s not so bad, I guess. Two years ago, I heard he hit a boy so hard that he bled on the back of his calves.
Even his mom came in to complain. Not that it did any good. ”
With an imaginary broom handle, Yun’s wiry arms made dramatic swinging motions below Mido’s knees. She shivered, realizing then that the joke was more scary than funny, and she looked down at her clean white leather sneakers.
Yun turned serious. “Mido, are you bad at math? I don’t want you to feel worse, but that problem wasn’t the toughest one of the group today.”
Mido shook her head no. In Sydney, she’d received perfect grades in mathematics.
But here the math was far more advanced, forcing her to read and reread the textbook every night.
Homework took more time. Her brothers, too, had complained about it.
Bedtime kept getting pushed back because of the difficulty of the school assignments.
“Maybe you have to change your hagwon,” Yun said.
Mido looked at her blankly.
Yun leaned against the long communal sink.
“When’s your birthday?” She turned to Mido. “Mine’s October ninth. I’m short, and everyone thinks I’m the youngest, but I’m not. You’re not tall, either. Are you older than me?”
Mido shrugged.
“When? When is your birthday?” Suddenly Yun felt entitled to an answer.
At last, Mido replied, “October first.”
Yun tapped Mido’s shoulder with her bony fist.
“Yaah! You do talk. I knew you did.”
Mido looked confused, unable to comprehend why everyone cared so much about speaking all the time.
“Eight days’ difference is nothing. We’re almost twins. We could have been in the hospital at the same time.” Yun grasped Mido’s left hand.
“Let’s go eat. My mother put sausages and dumplings in my lunch box today, and I have a box of Pepero.
I’ll give you some. You know what? You should go to Eagle Academy with me.
For English, I have Sean Teacher. I study math with Henry Teacher.
They’re from America. Henry Teacher went to MIT.
That’s a better school than Harvard for math and science.
I’ll get my mother to call your mother. My parents want me to go to college in America, so I go to this special hagwon run by Americans.
I mean, they’re Korean but not really. They’re gyopo.
” Yun paused. “I guess like you. Anyway.”
Mido followed Yun at a respectful distance, taking care not to step on the girl’s shadow.
The classroom president walked with purpose down the wide, yellow-linoleum-covered hallway flanked by rows of classrooms. At their desk, as they ate their lunches, Yun chatted to the quiet girl, who nodded and smiled.
Her new friend had everything figured out for them, and Mido felt grateful to be in her care.