Joohyun remembered her only-child childhood vividly.

    In her strict eight-year-old routine, she would open her eyes at the beckoning of the sun (that made the purple curtains shimmer in a way that she called “bootiful”), then she would run quickly to her parents’ room to attack her father with a mouthful of morning breath, screaming, “Daddy!  Help Joojoo brush tweef!”

    And once the bathroom spa time had been performed, she would mount upon her father’s broad back and shout, “Onwards!” as they hobbled their way to the kitchen.  Joohyun situated herself on not one, but two of the chairs at the dining table.  One (and a half) for herself, and the rest for her imaginary friend Seungwan (who wasn’t at all imaginary, Joohyun just missed her best friend when she wasn’t around).

    However this morning was different.  It was the chilly morning of February the seventeenth in which Joohyun was given the devastating news: that she was going to have a little sister.

    “B-But mommy!”

    Her mother chuckled fondly at the distasteful surprise on Joohyun’s face, “I’m afraid it’s too late for ‘buts’, sweetheart.”

    Knowing she would get nowhere with her mother, Joohyun snapped her head towards her father, who donned the same expression her mother had on.  “Daddy!  Joojoo thought…” she fumbled with the right words, “Joojoo thought that Joojoo was the only princess!”

    Mr. Bae cooed loudly as he reached over (careful not to hurt Seungwan) and scooped his daughter by the armpits, “And you’re still my princess, honey.  It’s just… now you’re gonna have a tiny princess that’s going to have to learn from you, the bigger princess.”

    Joohyun huffed angrily in her father’s familiar embrace, “She better listen to Joojoo.”

    Mr. and Mrs. Bae shared a knowing gaze at their daughter’s mild tantrum.  It was only when she added, “And Seungwan.” that they lost their reserve to a few hearty laughs.

    Yerim Bae was born on March 5th, and princess Joojoo hovered over her with a frown ever since.  Family that Joohyun didn’t even know existed suddenly showed up at her door, and with a quick greeting to the small princess, rushed to the living room to adore the newborn.  Joohyun scowled as she shuffled on behind them.

    It had gone on for about a week or two: people coming and going, bringing gifts for the baby (and none for Joohyun, she had noticed), and taking lots of pictures.  But Joohyun was the princess, why weren’t they asking for her picture?

    Everything was different.  The sun that streamed through her lavender curtains no longer seemed as bright and her father was never anywhere to be found in his room!  Joohyun found him constantly in the kitchen pouring warm water over a bottle of powder (which she later discovered was to be fed to the baby), and when she asked for his assistance with her daily “tweef” spa, he would be too busy with the wailing baby!

    Joohyun hated the baby.

    It was March 14th when her father noticed Joohyun’s ghostlike presence peering into the living room, trying to watch unnoticed.  He immediately recognized the red that plagued his eldest’s ears and called for her with a welcoming pat to his lap.  “Joohyun, come here.”

    Joohyun stomped down the stairs with a frown, but did anyone notice?  Of course not.  Who was going to pay attention to an old eight-year-old walking down the stairs when there was an adorable, stupid baby dribbling over her own spit in her mother’s arms?

    “What?”  Joohyun panted angrily.

    Mr. Bae pulled Joohyun into his lap and held her in a tight embrace, “Having a little sister is going to be a big change.”

    Joohyun crossed her arms.

    “And I know it’s hard not getting all the attention right now,” he said, “but everyone still loves you too.  Isn’t that right, honey?”

    Mrs. Bae nodded firmly, “That’s right.  Everyone still loves princess Joojoo.”

    The calmness lasted for a few hours until Joohyun screamed in outrage at dinner, “SHE STOLE SEUNGWAN’S SPOT.”

    Joohyun was twelve when her parents decided she was old enough to accompany Yerim to the park to play.  It was a grueling daily activity that Joohyun had done nearly everything to get out of.  (“Mom, I think I’m sick, I can’t take Yerim to the park.”  “You’re not, but you might have a third-degree burn from holding the hair straightener to your head for so long.”)

    Because let’s face it: going to the playground every day to hang around a bunch of snotty, screaming toddlers didn’t exactly suit the cool image Joohyun was trying to hard to build for herself.  She was sure her reputation would be tarnished even further at the realization that she was dragging one of her own toddlers to the dirty, bacteria-infested playground.

    Princess Joojoo knew just how to handle the situation.  She wore her mother’s old sunglasses (because her hip, pink sunglasses would give away her coolness), a grey hoodie two sizes too large and a beanie that was sure to hide any of the color in her hair.  For good measure, on the way there she would pray to whatever deity would listen (she was desperate) that she would be the nicest girl in the world if no one were to identify her.

    It had gone well for the first month.  On an orange Friday evening, Joohyun felt her life burn up in flames at the tap on her shoulder and familiar grin.

    “Joohyun!”

    “Oh my,” Joohyun gasped before turning her back, trying to ignore one of the most popular boys of her grade.

    “Joohyun!  It’s me!  Sehun!”

    And so Joohyun slowly turned to face the dreamy preteen with a sheepish smile, “H-Hey, Sehun!  W-What brings you here?”

    “I’m walking my dog!” He beamed, lifting his arm to reveal a bright red leash that held a small (but menacing) dog, “Why are you wearing that?  Aren’t you hot?”

    You’re hot, Joohyun thought shamelessly.  She coughed, “I-I’m also walking my dog!  Haha!”

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