JISOO’S POV:

Lisa and her great ideas...I seethed as I fled the crime scene at a full sprint, not daring to look back over my shoulders at my pursuers lumbering after me, their heavy footsteps and indignant curses echoing loudly in my head. What was I thinking? Even if I escape today, there’s only about seven months of the school year left for them to teach me a lesson…My mind flashed back to that damned game of truth-or-dare.

“I dare you to...steal Jiyong’s jacket.” Lisa smirked arrogantly, clearly confident this was one step too far even for me. I merely scoffed. Nothing was beyond Kim Jisoo. I feared nothing. What I wanted, I made sure to get. “Bring it on.” I pretended to dust off my shoulder, and Lisa and Chaeyoung began hyping up the situation as usual.

This time, it seemed I had gotten far more than I had bargained for. To be fair, what should I really have expected after stealing a customised jacket with a net worth probably in the thousands, from the ringleader of the most infamous, most notorious gang in our school? I gazed despondently at the leather jacket in my clutches, the image of a dragon breathing fire staring mockingly back at me. G-Dragon…I chuckled despite myself. Lame nickname, I could have done better.

For all that his self-conceived nickname was questionable, his influence certainly wasn’t. Having successfully snagged his jacket while he was at PE class, I had attempted to sneakily slip it into my class so I could prove to Lisa that even such a daunting task wouldn’t faze me. What I didn’t count on was for his supply of cronies to be seemingly never-ending, and one of his minions had blown the whistle on me the moment he set eyes upon the prominent dragon. Frankly, if only jocks were in the picture, I would be confident of out-manoeuvring them, yet they seemed to have recognised their deficiencies and had introduced a lean, mean chasing machine into the picture.

Jennie Kim. I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but adrenaline and fear were keeping me going. I had heard many chilling tales about the punishments this gang meted out should anyone dare offend any member, and I couldn’t imagine what I would be in for, having rather daftly incurred the wrath of the member at the very top. But there’s no getting away from Jennie...I remembered the very first time I had seen her in a track-and-field meet, and I had been swooning over our school’s fastest girl, wondering how she could look so attractive in the midst of a frantic sprint that saw her clinch first place in the 100-metre event.

Judging by her Instagram posts (no, I definitely wasn’t stalking her, I was just curious), she resided somewhere in the upper echelons of the gang, although she really didn’t seem the type to belong to such a crowd. Which was why I was paralysed with fear upon being grabbed by the collar from behind and yanked to a dark corridor roughly.

She was breathing heavily, evidently trying to catch her breath, her face glistened with sweat, and my thoughts somehow drifted to how attractive she looked again. “What are you playing at? Do you have a death wish?” She stared at me more incredulously than angrily, pointing to the jacket in my grasp.

“It was a dare…” I replied in a small voice, bracing myself for the incoming physical or verbal abuse. She raised her right arm above her shoulder suddenly, and I flinched instinctively, fully expecting to take a couple of strong blows to the face. The blow never arrived though, and I sneaked a peek towards her face, which was strangely riddled with indecision. Then her expression softened drastically and she spoke assertively, “Listen, you were plain stupid, and you probably deserve to be punished, but just give me the jacket and run along.”

I stared at her in a daze. That was it? I was getting off the hook unbelievably lightly, this experience couldn't hold a candle to getting my face disfigured or having one of my limbs broken, which, from what I had heard wasn't uncommon for this gang.

She tapped her foot on the ground impatiently, looking over her shoulder. “I'm serious, get the out of here, or the goons will actually kill you.”

I didn't need another warning, bolting down the emergency stairwell back to the comforts of my classroom. I'd face Lisa’s taunts over a bunch of angry sumo wrestlers any day…

JENNIE’S POV:

What Jennie Kim wants, Jennie Kim gets.

“What Jennie Kim wants, Jennie Kim gets.” My mother exclaimed happily as I laid out the ridiculously lengthy wishlist I had come up with for the 5th Christmas of my life. Of course, then I still had my fantastical delusions about Santa slipping into the chimney and bestowing upon me all my desired gifts, but I soon realised it was the work of nothing more than my father's credit cards. (I doubt he felt any form of pinch, though, he was practically swimming in dollar bills.)

“What Jennie Kim wants, Jennie Kim gets.” The immature high-schooler that I was decided to confront the boyfriend of a girl I was crushing on, and that was my defiant response when he roared with laughter at my bold statements warning him that I would put up a strong fight. The girl never talked to me again after my sudden confession, so I supposed the joke was indeed on me.

“What Jennie Kim wants, Jennie Kim gets.” Jiyong smirked at me, and I smirked back, hoping my expression gave off an air of confidence to mask my surprise at being accepted into the gang that easily. Acceptance was massive. Hanging out with the cool kids did wonders for my popularity and social status. It introduced me to a whole new world, that of narcotics and cigarettes, which was such step behaviour! (No one needs to know I stopped after my first puff.) It helped me achieve everything I wanted...right?

What do I actually want? If I don't know what I want, how can I know if what I get is what I want? I used to crave popularity, I used to crave attention, above all I used to crave acceptance. However, I was still the quiet, shy, introverted Jennie at heart, putting on a false front and acting cocky, confident and seductive, just to fit in amongst the cool kids, which quite frankly was exhausting. Was I better off creating a false persona to gain social acceptance, or being myself and ending up as a social outcast? How many of my ‘friends’ were actually my friends? My mind was overflowing with negative thoughts.

Either way, I had made up my mind. I was leaving the gang. No more acting as someone I wasn’t, people either appreciated me for who I was or they could stay the hell out of my life. I knew the consequences of my decision all too well, having been an unwilling supervisor of the disgusting ritual for the past year. Maybe the pain will be cleansing, maybe it’ll pave the way for a fresh start...I attempted to reassure myself, to little avail, still being engulfed by an overwhelming feeling of dread.

“Well, well, who would’ve expected this…” Jiyong looked genuinely surprised for once, I couldn’t remember him ever showing much emotion. “But, of course, what Jennie Kim wants, Jennie Kim gets. I’m sure you’re no stranger to what you’re in for, anyway.”

Indeed, I wasn’t. Even so, as I was dragged roughly into the all-too-familiar room, I got the chills upon realising my blood would join the countless stains residing on the floor, upon realising I was going to get assaulted heartlessly by my ‘friends’, upon realising how superficial relationships in these gangs were, how no one really cared for each other and only remained acquaintances with others out of self-interest.

Each blow I suffered to the face felt liberating. Each jolt of pain shooting through my body felt like the wake-up call I had continuously neglected till now. Each stream of blood gushing out of cuts and scratches felt like my path to redemption. When they were finally done with me, I felt like I had been reborn. And just like any newborn would, the first thing I did was break down and cry. I cried for the people I had brought harm or disappointment upon, I cried for the flaws of humanity, but most of all, I cried for the failure of a human being that I had been, I was a conformer, a follower, a lackey with no mind of her own.

Hobbling weakly along the path that led to home, I found it miracul