Searching for Wonderland

The first few weeks living with Han Mikyung and her three children were awkward for Yulhee. Mikyung had, with the slightly misguided enthusiasm that plagued many adults, tried to her best to ensure that Yulhee felt as accepted as possible within the household. Being the same age, Yulhee and Seulgi were quickly expected to share everything, and while Seulgi was sweet and welcoming, Yulhee had no frame of reference in how to act. She felt more an infirm aunt that had to be unfortunately taken care of, rather than a sibling.

As Seungwan was older, she was more distant from Yulhee. This unexpectedly made her feel somewhat better, as she didn’t feel as though Seungwan was being forced on her. The firm but gentle way she made sure Yulhee was ready for school and had done her homework felt far more natural than Seulgi’s clumsy hugs and her foster mother’s doting. Yerim was a cypher – she was much younger and didn’t speak very much to Yulhee at all. There were points where Yulhee wondered if perhaps Yerim resented her as she was getting more attention than the youngest, but she could never be entirely sure.

One weekend, Yulhee was sitting studiously cross-legged on the floor, biting on her pen and trying her hardest to try and solve the extra math problems she’d been assigned. Yerim was lying on the floor a little away from her, absorbed in flipping through a book. When Yulhee sighed for the umpteenth time, she frowned and crawled over, looking down at the book. “Five times six is thirty, not forty,” she said, pointing to the problem, “Even I know that.”

Yulhee made a noise and corrected it. “That’s also wrong,” Yerim pointed, “And that too. And this one. Your handwriting is also really bad. Shouldn’t you already know this? This is so basic. People are going to say that you’re stupid –”

“Well I did miss out on twelve years of my life, you know,” Yulhee snapped, closing the book and getting to her feet, “This is not any easier for me than it is for you. Maybe you should try to put your life back together when you’ve found out you’ve got no family and no memories.”

Yerim was very quiet the rest of the day, avoiding contact with her. When Yulhee went back upstairs, she found on her pillow a carefully written out multiplication table, with the words ‘sorry’ scrawled on the back. Picking it up and staring at it for a moment, Yulhee found herself smiling very faintly. Yerim was much more patient and kind towards her in the months that followed, and it was to Yulhee’s complete surprise when a year had passed that Yerim asked at dinner, “Mum, Yulhee-unnie will be staying with us forever, right? She’s not a guest?”

“Of course!” Han Mikyung said. “Why ever would you think otherwise?”

“People don’t get adopted much here,” Yerim mumbled, “I don’t want her to leave.”

“People do get adopted,” Seungwan corrected, “There’s a boy in my year who’s adopted, and he’s been with them for four years. We’re not going to throw Yulhee out by the ear just because people talk.”

Yerim nodded at that. She still clung to Yulhee the entire night like a boa constrictor though. Yulhee found she didn’t mind.

Yulhee still remained quietly in contact with Junsu. He had been the first real thing she had glimpsed upon waking, had picked her up and carried her out of dreams into reality, and Yulhee felt she ought to be grateful. He taught music at the local high school, even gotten married, which was, all things considered, not a bad end for a man who’d once been a teenage drug offender.

It was also why she found herself standing in front of the high school the next day. It had occurred to her that Junsu might remember where he had found her – and perhaps that would give them a hint to where Wonderland was. Knowing that teachers still came back to do work during the summer break, Yulhee decided to walk around the side of the building to use the side entrance, and peek into the music block to see if he was there.

Wind ruffling her loose skirt, she trotted around, pressing her fingers against the glass. She saw a figure hunched over the piano that looked a bit like him, squinting to check. The person turned – Junsu – and made a frightened squeaking noise when he saw her staring, hitting the piano and causing him to totter. Hiding a laugh with a hand, Yulhee walked over to the side entrance and found it open. Shoes clicking on the linoleum floors, she pressed her hands together behind her back as she walked through the corridors of the place she’d left behind two years ago. Battered metal lockers, faded posters, fluorescent lighting. What a hellhole, but with time, her memories of it had been smoothened down, the edges blurred, that she could have actually missed it. At least it had been a sort of purpose in life. 

When she pulled open the door to the music room, Junsu was glaring at her. “Don’t do that. I thought you were some ert! Come here, you.”

Junsu gave wonderful hugs, and Yulhee gratefully let him wrap his arms around her. When they pulled apart, Junsu looked her up and down with a grin. “Look at you! You’re glowing. Oh God, I’m not going to become an uncle, am I?”

She swatted him, perching herself on one of the stools opposite. “Hardly. Although I’d love to hear I’m going to be an auntie.”

“Heeyeon and I aren’t ready yet,” Junsu said with a laugh, “But really, I only saw you, what, four months ago? And now you seem so womanly – I don’t mean that in a y way – just more confident. Not that sullen little girl.”

“Who wouldn’t be sullen around you idiots?”

“But I see you haven’t lost your tongue.” Junsu grinned. “What a relief. I’d thought you were possessed.”

Yulhee felt suddenly uncomfortable at that comment – she knew she’d become more wrapped up in this investigation, had come out of her shell, but she didn’t want to think she was becoming something she wasn’t. “On the subject of idiots, how are they doing?”

For a while, Junsu told her what he knew had happened to the others. She was shocked to discover that Changmin had gotten married in Seoul, to a foreigner no less, while Yunho had signed on in the armed forces. More depressingly, she learnt that Yoochun had overdosed some months ago and passed away, while Jaejoong’s family was going through hard times. How life was passing others by, while she remained stuck. Pathetic, Han Yulhee. Do something valuable with your time for once! Or else you’re going to be in your thirties and a failure…

“And you?” she asked.

Junsu bit his lip, looking a little gloomy suddenly. “This is going to be my last year teaching,” he explained, “Student numbers are dropping, and the new principal doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for my subject. They’re cutting expenses, and they feel that music isn’t necessary any longer; the students aren’t interested anyways. Times are really changing. Heeyeon and I have been discussing moving somewhere else.”

“Oh, Junsu,”