Page 36 of XOXO

Still, I can’t help feeling disappointed that I won’t see either Jaewoo or Nathaniel at school today. I can feel my shoulders drooping as I walk into class and spot their empty desks. Sori’salready seated, so I head on over, glad that I’m neither late nor incorrectly dressed—Angela let me borrow her elastic tie—on the second day of school.

The first class is math, which is an “experience,” as it’s taught in Korean. Luckily, the unit is one I’d already covered at LACHSA and I manage to solve the problem when the teacher calls me to the board.

Afterward, I have study hall/history. As I’m packing up my things, Jina walks over, followed by a boy. They make a point of having a loud conversation in front of my desk.

They’re speaking in slang again, but I recognize a few words, namely bitch and slut.

This girl is the literal worst. It’s like she’s never seen a movie or watched reality TV. Doesn’t she know: the meaner you are, the uglier you get?

Sori abruptly stands up, her chair falling backward behind her. Gathering up her books, she flees from the classroom.

I realize, belatedly, that I wasn’t the target of their torment this time around.

Hurrying out of the classroom, I catch sight of Sori already halfway down the hall. She’s pushing open the door to the girls’ bathroom.

I follow, stepping aside to let two girls exit. They glance over their shoulders, whispering to each other. Inside, the area between the stalls and the sink is empty. The sound of sniffles comes from the last stall, the only one with a closed door.

I approach and knock on the stall door. “Sori? Are youokay?” The sniffles become muffled, as if she’s holding a hand to her mouth. “I heard what Jina said. That wasn’t nice, nor is it true.”

The door opens and I step back. She must be wearing waterproof mascara because her makeup looks immaculate, though the corners of her eyes are red. “How do you know if it’s not true?”

Damn. She doesn’t make this easy. There’s an answer I could give her, that’s easier said in English. That words like “bitch” and “slut” have been used systemically to belittle women and entrench misogyny in all cultures around the world, that I wouldn’t want people to judge me or boil all my decisions down to a single word, without nuance or context or compassion.

We’re just... girls. No more, no less. But before I can figure out how to say any of this she says, “I don’t need your pity.” Sori shoulders past me and exits the bathroom with a slam of the door.

Fifteen

I’m already exhausted and the day’s not even half over. I spend most of study hall in the library, alternating mulling over how I could have handled the situation with Sori better and my first class of dance. I’d been meaning to talk to my counselor about switching out of it, since it’s not exactly an elective I’d have chosen for myself, but haven’t yet had the opportunity.

Still, it’s too late to back out of the first day so I head over to the performing arts building, which I’ve never been in, though I know this is where Angela and Gi Taek have most of their classes. Though I’m early, I’m not the first there.

Sori stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back of the room, on the opposite side of which are mirrors. She’s wearing stylish activewear, a cropped tank and biker shorts, which I didn’t know was an option, otherwise I’d have dressed in something besides my PE clothes.

Sori doesn’t acknowledge me, so I drop my school bag inthe corner and sit on the floor to stretch.

A few minutes of silence pass, then the door opens again. I expect the teacher or another student, but Nathaniel steps into the room.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says in English, then his eyes trail over my shoulder and he seems to freeze in place.

Through the mirror I can see that Sori has turned from the window at his entrance. I have this weird out-of-body experience where I can see him in front of me by the door, and her behind me through the mirror, and the expressions on both of their faces is full of an inexplicable emotion, one that is way too intimate for me to witness. Then it’s like they both close off at the same time.

Nathaniel grins, like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“Min Sori. How have you been?”

She turns abruptly back to the window. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even breathe near me.”

He shuts his mouth. Throwing his bag against the wall, he plops down next to me.

Like Sori, he’s dressed in stylish workout clothes.

“I thought you had rehearsal,” I say.

He raises a single eyebrow.

“Gi Taek told me,” I explain.

“Ah, yes, Gi Taek.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, arching his back as he looks up at the ceiling. “I did have rehearsal, but then we decided to head back to campus instead of waiting around in the van for an hour.”

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