My mother once told me that a self-introduction could make or break a person, so I guess I should start with that.

            Hello, my name is Kim Eunbyul.  Rumor has it that when I was born, my parents, in a state of panic because they still had not found a name for me, looked out the window, saw a silver (eun) star (byul), and decided to go with it.

            Anyway, I was born and raised in Gangnam, and I currently attend SM High School.  It would be safe to assume that I’m what you would call “rich”.  Don’t get me wrong; financial stability is excellent.  We never have to worry about anything money-related, and we can always buy what we want. 

Unfortunately, the thing about rich people is that they’re always seeking to increase their wealth.  And what better way to increase your wealth than to marry off your daughter to the son of the rival company?  That’s right, Mom and Dad.  I’m looking at you two.

            But enough of my complaining.  You’re here for the story, and I’m here to tell it to you.

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            “Eunbyul, wake up!  Or you’re going to be late to school again!” Mom yelled from downstairs.

            I rolled over in bed, ignoring her nagging.  Ah, screw it.  I’m going to be late anyway, so why even bother waking up?  Whose idea was it to make school start so early in the morning?

            “Joonmyun will take you to school today, so hurry up!”

            At that, I forced myself to get out of bed, dragged myself into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and my hair, and changed into my uniform.  Joonmyun, my older brother, rarely took me to school because he always had a meeting to attend, so I knew that I had to hurry.

            “Tsk,” Mom said, staring at me.  “You didn’t even bother trying to cover your dark circles.”

            “No time,” I replied.

            “Joonmyun is waiting outside for you.”

            “Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a hug.  “See you after school!”

            “Be home early today.  We have a dinner to attend, and your father and I have something to tell you.”

            “Got it!”

            I ran outside, backpack on my back and toast in my hand (the representative food for running late to school), and hopped into the backseat of my brother’s fancy sports car.

            “Good morning, Eunbyul,” Joonmyun greeted, putting the car in reverse.  “I think that if I drive fast enough, I can make it to your school before Mr. Jung closes the gates.”

            “Thanks, oppa.”

            Joonmyun also graduated from SM High, and thanks to him, I have an excellent reputation at school.  Teachers love me because I’m Kim Joonmyun’s sister, even though my grades are crap.  I can get out of homework assignments because I’m Kim Joonmyun’s sister.  Joonmyun oppa is like a legend at SM High, and I love being a part of his legacy.

            “So did Mom and Dad tell you yet?  I’m guessing not, based on how calm you are,” he said.

            “What.”

            “Nothing, nothing.”

            “Oppa, don’t change the subject on me.” I glared into his rearview mirror.

            “Eunbyul-ah,” he replied.  “How’s violin practice?”

            “Meh,” I replied.  “I can’t get the solo right.  I even practiced it at least a hundred times, until my fingers hurt like crazy, but I still can’t get it!  It drives me crazy.”

            He smiled.  “I’m sure you’ll get it soon, Eunbyul-ah.  Don’t worry about it.”

            A few minutes of crazy driving later, Joonmyun pulled up to the front of the school.  Mr. Jung, my homeroom teacher and the morning patrol teacher, stood like a hawk.  I hopped out of the backseat, waved to Joonmyun, and ran through the gates just in time.  Mr. Jung, a Joonmyun fan, shook his head at me but didn’t say anything.  I slid into my seat in homeroom, relieved that I had barely escaped an afternoon detention, put my head down on my desk, and decided to enjoy the last moments of freedom I’d have that day before Mr. Jung would bore us with his lecturing.

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            “Oh my gosh,” someone on my table gushed, “don’t you think that Chanyeol looks really hot today?”

            “Agreed,” another said.  “What do you think, Eunbyul-ah?”

            “Hm?” I replied, more interested in my tomato juice pouch than in whatever they were talking about. 

            “About Chanyeol.” She gestured to another table across the cafeteria.

            I turned in the direction she was pointing in and took a good look at Park Chanyeol.  He was good looking, I’ll admit, but he definitely wasn’t as hot as he thought he was.  I noted how his arm was around a girl, and they were giggling.  “You’re right.  He does look pretty sweaty.  Maybe he just came from gym or something?”

            Someone giggled.  “You’re hilarious, Eunbyul-ah.  Ah, I’m so jealous of that girl sitting next to Chanyeol.”

            Lunch continued on that way, with various girls on the table comparing guys.  I listened to all of them talk about the group Park Chanyeol belonged to, Exo, completely uninterested.  And when I had enough, I stood up, bid them goodbye, and went to throw my lunch away.  As I passed Park Chanyeol’s table, I heard some wild commotion.

            “Wow, Chanyeol, you’re so strong!”

            “I can’t believe you beat all of us in arm wrestling!”

            I glanced over my shoulder, surprised to see a whole group of muscular guys crowded around Chanyeol, congratulating him on his strength.

            “No one can beat me!” Park Chanyeol cheered.

            Irritated with the sound of his voice, I dumped my trash in the trash can, turned around, and plopped right in front of Park Chanyeol.  The girl sitting next to him gave me a dirty look, but I didn’t mind.  Placing my elbow on the table, I paused.

            “Play.”

            “What?” he laughed.  “I don’t arm wrestle girls, but if you want to give me your number...”

            “Play,” I repeated.

            He placed his elbow on the table, and I gripped his hand firmly.  “One, two three, go.”  And I slammed his arm down almost immediately.

            “Hey, no fair,” he said, obviously nervous.  “You didn’t give me time to react.”

            “Fine.” I rolled my eyes, making eye contact with one of the muscular boys watching.  “You count.”

            The muscular boy counted to three, and I once again slammed Park Chanyeol’s arm onto the table.  He stared at me in disbelief.

            “You’re incredibly strong.”

            Is this dude serious?  Does he not realize that all of the muscular boys are letting him win arm wrestling so that they can up to him?  What an idiot.

            “I should probably get going.” I stood up, and a crowd parted for me.

            “Wait!” Park Chanyeol called out.  “What’s your name?”

            I chuckled and walked out.