Page 30 of Rules for Rule Breaking
“Because you didn’t let it,” Winter said under her breath.
Bobby flicked his hair back. “Could you try to be sympathetic to my situation for a minute?”
“How could I? I’ve never been in a relationship, remember?”
“I’m sorry. That was a low blow. Even for us.”
“Yeah, it was.” Winter looked at her feet. “But I guess I shouldn’t have pried.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”
Winter rotated the campus map she was holding, studying it intently. “Well, we don’t have to give up yet. We can go to the admissions presentation if you want. And apparently there’s a hippo statue or something around here.”
Bobby put his hand up in a dismissive gesture. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you can stop. I’m ending the moratorium now.”
“Should we head over to the Smithsonians, then? That might raise your spirits.”
“I’m not a little kid,” he snapped. “Can we just go?”
“Yes, but let the record reflect that I tried to be nice.”
Bobby knew she probably wanted to see the Air and Space Museum. He regretted telling her anything. He should have done a better job of concealing his mood. Now she kept looking at him with pity in her eyes, which was far worse than her usual disdain.
They walked back to the car together in silence. Bobby dropped a location pin for his mom before they headed over to the hotel.
Winter Park
11. WE WILL NOT SHARE SPACE
Bobby and Winter arrived at the hotel an hour early, which meant they were back on their original schedule. Typically this would have pleased Bobby greatly, but he didn’t mention it. He walked straight into his bedroom and slammed the door.
Winter watched his shut door for a while before giving herself the grand tour of their living quarters. The two-bedroom suite Mr. and Mrs. Bae had booked for them was very impersonal but extremely clean. The furniture was a series of moderately comfortable geometric shapes, and there was a kitchenette with a laminate countertop and minifridge. Winter and Bobby’s rooms were on either side of the main area, and Winter groaned when she realized there was only one bathroom they’d have to share.
Winter went over to the sliding door that led to a sliver of a balcony and opened the floor-length curtains. The bright red sun was preparing to disappear behind the trees. The air smelled earthy, tinged with car exhaust and weed wafting in from some of the neighboring rooms. Washington, DC, was a city, probably the best city in the world, but even in all the hustle and bustle, there was always a sense of calm and purpose.
A buzzing in Winter’s pocket drew her attention for a moment. She hoped it was Emmy, but it was an email from her eye doctor reminding her to schedule an appointment. Winter scrolled downin her recent calls list to find Emmy. Her finger hovered over her name for a while before she finally decided to press it. Emmy’s smiling photo popped up on her phone as it rang before ultimately going to voicemail.
Is this what it’s going to be like?Winter thought to herself. She had expected things to change and for Emmy to be different after Nai Nai died, but she’d never felt so disconnected from her before. Even when they were together, Emmy was somber and distracted, only in her typical bright mood in short bursts. But Winter couldn’t very well be upset with someone who was in mourning.
With a sigh, Winter headed to her room, which was slightly bigger than Bobby’s. She laid her things out on the bed for the shower. She had been in the car all day, and Washington, DC, was unbearably humid in the summertime. There was no way she smelled anything even close to good.
Stepping into the glass box the hotel called a shower, Winter closed her eyes under the stream, letting the water wash away the filth of the day. The smell of maple syrup had been following her around, so she wasn’t confident she hadn’t gotten some in her hair earlier.
As the smell of breakfast disappeared down the drain, she couldn’t help but think of dinner. She was covered in fresh mosquito bites from the swamp that is Washington, DC, and all she wanted was some good old-fashioned Korean comfort food—jjajangmyeon. She dreamed of diving headfirst into a bowl of the freshly hand-pulled noodles slathered in sweet and savory black-bean sauce. Thinking about it made her salivate, but it also made her think of Emmy. She’d brought it up to Emmy once and was shocked when she knew exactly what she was talking about. In fact, it was originally a Chinese dish that had been adapted to Korean tastes. Winter couldn’t imagine eating it with anyone else. It wasn’t that she wasembarrassed, but it was messy, and Korean food didn’t always smell as nice as maple syrup.
Maybe Bobby would want to get jjajangmyeon for dinner. His mother made it the best, but perhaps they could find a suitable takeout spot nearby. She would ask him later.
Winter pressed her forehead against the shower wall and closed her eyes again with a loud sigh. All her instincts told her to hold on to Emmy with everything she had, but she wasn’t sure how they were going to fit into each other’s lives anymore. She didn’t know many models and aerospace engineers who mingled in the same social circles.
When Winter got out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and lay in bed, letting her hair soak the pillow. She opened Instagram, went to Emmy’s profile, and watched a video of Emmy dancing that autoplayed. She was in black spandex, using a sheer white scarf as a prop. Emmy had moved around often, sometimes to countries where she couldn’t appropriately communicate. But Emmy always said that in dance, she was unfettered by anything as provincial as a language barrier.
In the video, Emmy lay on the ground, her back arched and arms splayed, exposing the peaks of her rib cage, before rolling and using the strength of her core to lift her body skyward, her toes pointed and chest open, with long clean lines down to her fingertips. Winter was transfixed, watching the muscles in Emmy’s legs and arms lengthen and protrude as she shifted her center of gravity seamlessly and sensuously, making use of the entire room and the entire world as her showcase.
The choreography ended with her folded over as if in a traditional bow. Each vertebra in her spine was articulated as she heaved with breath.
“How was that?” Emmy said with a smile as her head popped up.
As Winter scrolled up to Emmy’s modeling headshots, she mentally punished herself for being so dense. When they met, Emmy had the biggest ears Winter had ever seen. She wore her hair in a black drape to cover them. Over time she grew into them, and eventually, through the approval of her peers, she learned her best angles and started posting daily. This was the natural progression of things. Emmy had lived all over the world and had to learn to make friends in an instant, knowing the friendships probably wouldn’t last. Winter knew all along that Emmy could eventually leave her behind too. College was supposed to be their chance to solidify their friendship for good. Now it could all slip away, along with her childhood.
