Page 32 of XOXO

I almost forgot about him, which is wild. How could anyone forget about Nathaniel?

“What’s your next class?” he asks.

“I have study hall, but I guess English.” Since Korean literature is too advanced for me and English language is too easy, LACHSA is letting me do an online version of their English literature course.

“And after that?” He shakes his head. “You know what, why don’t you text me your schedule.” He hands me his phone.

I stare at it, still a little dazed from what I just witnessed. Also the settings on his phone are all in Korean.

“Oh, sorry, here.” He opens up the new contact info page. “Just type in your number. I’ll fill in the rest.”

Afterward, he takes it back and types in English “Jenny Go” all on one line.

As I leave the classroom, I catch sight of Liar Girl and her friends—a boy and girl—glaring at me. Honestly, at this point, I couldn’t care less.

I spend a few minutes of my study hall reading the syllabus my English teacher sends over, and the rest of it wondering if Jaewoo was the one who sent Sori the postcard. If so, then why did he hang out with me in LA? And what about earlier in the hall, when he asked to be secret friends? How would Sori feel about that? How doIfeel about that?

Not great.

The last period before lunch is PE and I quickly rush back to the dorm to change before meeting my class on the field.

“Jenny!” Angela greets me, looking adorable in pigtails and a pink hoodie over her uniform sweats. It’s freezing outside and most of the students are running in place or doing jumping jacks to warm themselves up. “I’m so glad we have this class together!”

“Me too,” I say, especially when I catch sight of Liar Girl and her friends. And Sori, though she stands apart, which seems to be her general state of being.

“Who’s that?” Angela asks, following my gaze. “She’s so pretty.”

“Min Sori,” one of our classmates answers, a girl with purple-tinted hair. “She’s a trainee at Joah Entertainment.”

So that’s how she knows Jaewoo. Also maybe why she’s an approved contact in his phone.

“I envy her,” Angela sighs.

“Oh, yeah?” The girl smirks. “Wait until you hear who her mother is.” The girl pauses dramatically.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of asking.

Angela—on the other hand—is not petty, like me. “Who?”

“Seo Min Hee, the CEO of Joah Entertainment.”

Angela gasps. “Her life is so blessed. Though I’m sure she would have gotten into Joah even without that connection.”

I aspire to be as sweet as Angela when I grow up. The girl, however, doesn’t seem to share my feelings and heads over to join her friends.

Today we’re running the Korean equivalent of “the mile,” which is four laps around the track. I’m fine with the first lap, huffing and puffing after the second, breathing heavily after the third, and then almost dead by the fourth, collapsing on the lawn with the students who’d finished ahead of me. Angela’s still running, so after a short break, I walk over to the water fountain at the edge of the field to wash up.

Liar Girl is already there with her friend. In order to avoid them, I go to the other side of the fountain, splashing cold water onto my face from the spigot that shoots the water into a shallow basin. Lifting my head, our eyes meet. This close, I can read the nametag on her uniform: Kim Jina.

While holding my gaze, she nudges her friend and says something in Korean.

I frown, not quite understanding. Yet with how loud she spoke, I was clearly meant to hear.

Her friend glances over at me, and then says something back, and then it clicks.

They’re purposefully speaking in slang, so that I won’t understand.

At my confused expression, they start to laugh. They then exchange a few more words andtheseI can recognize because curse words are some of the first words you learn in any language.

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