Page 44 of It's in the Contract
The stone troll looms before us. “Yep.”
A huge stone head, shoulders, and hands emerge from the rocky hillside, reaching towards onlookers. The fingers are knobby ridges with sharp edges, and one eye is covered by a curtain of rock moss or hair or something. The other eye is blank and white, pupilless. It looks like he’s pulling a stone car out of the ground. It’s eerie but cool.
“The detail is amazing. What’s the story here?” Zeke asks.
“Well, in 1912 a bunch of engineers took their handmade tools and chiseled him out of the stone.”
Zeke looks at me in surprise. “Really?”
I giggle. “No. I have no idea what the story is.”
Zeke throws back his head and laughs. “I totally believed you. We should look it up though. This is amazing!”
“And so random, right?” I smile. “You can climb on him if you want.”
Zeke’s eyes light up, and he clambers on top of one of the blocky hands.
“Cheese!” I say, holding up my phone. Zeke smiles, and I snap the pic. We appreciate the troll for a little longer before turning around to head back to the car.
My phone buzzes, and I check the text. It’s Suzy, inviting me to Korea House for dinner. I hesitate only for a second before I shoot back a quick text, asking if Zeke can come too. He’s got to become a part of my friend group if this is ever going to work. Suzy might be suspicious of my intentions, though. She knows me the best. I hope I can hide this fake friend thing from her, even though I feel guilty about it.
“So random,” Zeke says. “And awesome.”
“That’s Seattle for you,” I say, my fingers tapping away to post more of our pictures to Instagram. “Have you noticed the abstract art sculptures everywhere?”
Zeke nods and hurries to my side of the car to open the door for me before I can get there. I just smile and shake my head as I clamber inside. The car smells faintly fishy from the salmon Zeke bought at Pike Place.
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Zeke asks.
“It’s cool,” I say. “Makes the city unique.”
Zeke starts the car and pulls away, and when I get Suzy’s affirming text I say, “Hey, do you want to try Korea House for dinner? Suzy’s parents’ restaurant?”
Zeke side-eyes me. “We’ve fulfilled our contract, right? You don’t have to invite me to dinner.”
And there’s that reminder. That we’re not really friends, that none of his gentlemanliness or teasing is real.
I clear my throat. “Right.” I study my phone, feeling awkward.
“But . . .” Zeke says. “I’ve never tried Korean food.”
I look up at him with a tentative smile.
“We can drop off the salmon at my house on the way.”
Seventeen
The signup sheet for the mathletes is looking pretty empty, people. Can we get a few more recruits?
TikTok caption by @CassidyandBrianMVH.
The bell dingswhen we walk into Korea House. It’s tiny, tastefully decorated, and packed with happy Koreans. Murals of mountain landscapes painted in broad black strokes line the walls, and vibrant red and blue paper lanterns hang from the ceiling. Suzy’s told me that the red and blue are traditional welcoming colors in Korea.
Behind the check-in counter are countless photos of guests who have come before, smiling and holding up their chopsticks. Suzy and I are featured in several. Next to the photos are display cases ofhanboks, red ceremonial dresses with bell skirts and gold trim. One of them is baby-sized, and Mrs. Jeong has told me that Suzy wore it on her first birthday.
The sharp smell of kimchi and the savory scent of barbecued meats waft pleasantly through my nose. My mouth waters. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, the room full of peoplespeaking Korean and a chiming instrumental song playing over the speakers.
Suzy pokes her head out of the red curtain divider in the back that separates the kitchen from the main dining room. She grins when she sees us. “You came!” She strides across the dining room, wearing a red t-shirt and jeans under a long black apron. I spy Suzy’s mom weaving her petite body through the tables, chatting with customers and bringing them more banchan, these delightful side dishes they always serve whether you order them or not.
