"Oh, check out this one. It will look great on you," Seolhyun says in a loud voice as she pulls a Barbie-pink backpack off a hook. We've been inside this specialty outdoor gear store for all of ten minutes, and she's already filled up a cart with enough hiking gear to outfits. The store's owner is probably counting up the total in his head and putting a down payment on a new house. Seolhyun's mom gave her a credit card and told her to go wild.

Must be nice.

"Omo. Look at the price tag. It's too expensive," I tell her. It's one of those structured backpacks that covers your entire back from head to and holds whatever it is that backpackers needs when they're hiking - sleeping bags and tent poles, things like that.

"My mom said we could buy anything, as long as it's in the store," Seolhyun argues, giving me a mischievous look as she swings a ponytail over one shoulder. "She will regret that. besides, my dad just made a load of money on the stock market. Why do you think my parents suddenly decided to fly to Las Vegas? They can afford a couple of backpacks."

"There's four already in the cart already," I point out.

Four backpacks. Three tents. Hiking sticks. Sleeping bags. Head lamps. And a set of enamel cookware, because it was "cute."

"We'll be needing it," she says casually.

"I thought this was glamping," I argue. "Your mom told my mom that the tents are already set up and that all the meals were provided."

Seolhyun pushes the chopping cart into an outdoor clothing area. "Yeah, I stayed there last year for my 17th birthday. The compound has really nice yurts."

"Yogurts?"

"Yurt," she enuniates, pretending to snap at my nose with her teeth. "They're giant round tents. You could host a huge party inside one. Anyway, the tents we're buying today are for the back-country trip we're taking."

I don't like the sound of that. "No one mentioned this."

"It's just walking, Suzy. Anyone can do it."

I laugh. "Says the athlete who gets up every morning at the cracks of dawn to exercise."

A tortured look clouds her eyes. Is she thinking about her Olympic failure? I think of what Eomma said about Seolhyun struggling, and I immediately regret teasing her.

"I suppose you're right," I say quickly. "It's just walking."

Seolhyun looks down at my skirt and surveys my bare legs. "Hiking will do you good."

I'm not sure what she meant by this, but I choose to ignore it, and instead route the conversation in a different direction. "You're planning on pitching tents in the wilderness? Like, with wild animals and stuff?"

Seolhyun smacks her gum and wheels up to a display of hiking boots. On the nearby wall is a giant poster of pretty models dressed in flannel, smiling with perfect teeth as they brave the wilds of their photoshoot, pretending to roughing it. "There are a zillion campgrounds in Queen's Forest. I'm sure we'll be sleeping in one of them," she assures me. "At least, I think so. I don't know. All I've been told is that the place we're going is a couple hours' walk from the main campground. Your average Daegu wannabee hikers don't know about it. We're talking totally off trail, baby."

Off-trails sounds awful. Unlike Seolhyun, I don't have boundless natural energy and calves of steel. I need to be where there's caffeine in walking distance, not fighting off bears and mosquitoes. I make a face at Seolhyun.

"We can be as loud as we want and no ranger will be there to shush us," Seolhyun says. "The people who run the glamping compound are nice, but they know my parents. We can't really let loose around them, you know? I don't need them giving my mom a report card on our activites."

Now I'm wondering what kinds of activities she has on her mind.

Seolhyun points to the poster of the hiking models. "In the backcountry . . . that's where things will get good. There's a hidden waterfall inside Queen's Forest to die for, and it's not far from the glamping compound. I'm talking bucket list. Do you know how many people get internet famous just for having the guts to travel to cool locations and take photos?"

Solbin's story about overhearing Bogum talking on the phone pops in my mind. My pulse quickens. "You still haven't told me who's going."

"I thought I did," she says absently. "Hyejeong."

One of Seolhyun's troop. Hyejeong sometimes eat lunch with us in the courtyard at school.

"And?" I coax. "Who else?"

"Kim Minjun." Goes to the private school across town, JYP Academy. Which is where Seolhyun would be going if they had a decent athletics department; they don't, and that's why a lot of rich kids who play sports go to public school with the rest of us.

"Hyejeong started seeing Minjun a few weeks ago," she explains before I can ask, and then mutters, "Why are hiking boots so ugly?"

"Because no one cares what you look like when you're sweating your way up a mountain?"

"Look, if you don't think you can handle a little hiking, don't come."

Her words feel like a slap to the face. And could she have said that nay louder? Her booming voice carries through the store, and another customer has turned to look quizzically at us. Public shame is the best.

"I'm sorry," she says, mouth pulling tight to one side. "I didn't mean it to come out that way."

I pretend I'm not upset. Ever since the Olympic trails, Seolhyun has had the ty tendency to lash out at people to make herself feel better, so whatever is bothering her probably has nothing to do with me. But now I'm wondering whether I can handle this trip.

"Quit scratching your arm," Seolhyun chastises.

I hadn't realized I was doing that. Stupid hives. I'm going to need to take medication.

Exhaling a long sigh, I calm myself and try to focus on what's important. "Who else is going?" I pressed "I can't just me Hyejeong and Minjun."

She shrugs. "Park Bogum and some dude he's bringing.

Bingo. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. Don't faint on me."

"I won't," I say.

"I just know how you are about him," she says. "You get obsessed and freaky, and I don't want things getting weird."

"Why would they get weird? You think I'm going to attack him in the woods?"

She chuckles. "You never know. What happens in the woods stays in the woods."

I clear my throat and try to sound breezy. "I did hear he's single again."

Seolhyun makes a noncommittal noise. "I thought you were over him?"

"I am." Mostly.

"Okay, good. But seriously. This is supposed to be a drama-free trip. I don't want it to be awkward."

"It won't be awkward."

"Excellent." After a nod, she wheels the cart toward a wall of paddles. Colorful kayaks are suspended alongside them, greens and reds and blues.

"So this waterfall we're hiking to is only a couple hours away from the glamping compound?" I ask.

"That's what Bogum says. He's trying to convince the guy who told him about it to lead us there. Oh, that reminds me. Bikinis. We'll be swimming. Do they sell those here?" She cranes her neck to look around the store.

No way am I getting in a bikini in front of Bogum. Forget it. My stress meter goes up, but I mentally push it back down and try to focus on what I was going to say. "I'm just wondering exactly where the waterfall is, because there are some people I know doing a meet-up on Apsan Park, and I thought about trying to find a ride out there one night."

Seolhyun's nose wrinkles. "Who do you know who'd be meeting on Apsan Park. Oh, hold on. Is this an astronomy club thing?"

"Meteor shower," I confirm. "There's a big star party."

She considers this. "That's not far from where we'll be, and you can definitely find a ride out there. The Daegu bus stop near the compound. I'll bet even Uber picks up there, if you throw enough cash at them."

That sounds promising, but I need firmer details. I don't want to scramble last minute. "I guess I could email the compound and ask for advice."

"Is Solbin going to be there?" she asks. "At Apsan Park?"

I nod. Sometimes I think Seolhyun might be jealous of the astronomy connection Solbin and I share. This is crazy, because I only spend time with Solbin during our club meetings. Before summer started, I saw Seolhyun every day.

Trying not to scratch my itchy arm, I pretend to browse a display of wide-mouth water bottles. And idea suddenly hits me. "You could come with me to the star party. I know Solbin would like to see you."

Seolhyun's quiet. Just for a second. Then she shakes her head. "I can't invite people camping and then abandon them."

I chuckle, slightly embarrassed. "Of course not. Duh."

A heavy awkwardness fills the space between us, and I don't know why. Maybe she's remembering how we used to be all better friends. Maybe she actually wants to go with me to Apsan Park but needs a little push. Sometimes if I prod her, she'll let down her guard and show me the other Seolhyun - the girl she used to be when we were younger. Before all of the pressure of the Olympic training. Before her parents got rich.

She slaps my shoulder, startling me. Sometimes Seolhyun doesn't know her own strength. "Don't be such a worrywart. It's all good," she says, voice bouncing with positivity. "I think everything will work out for both us. You can spend a little time glamping with my group and then head to your astronomy thing with Solbin."

"Might take some coordinating," i say, still unsure.

"Nah, it'll work out fine," she insist, bugging her eyes out at me comically and then sticking out her tongue briefly. "Just roll with it, Suzy. Let life happen."

I'm not sure if she realizes, but that's Bogum's motto. He says it all the time.

Maybe it's time I take this advice.

(∩。·ｏ·。)っ.ﾟ☆。

The next morning, I letting life happen in the only way I know how, which is me going over my extremely detailed fifty-five-bullet-point list for the camping trip while sitting behind the clinic's front desk. We leave tomorrow, which doesn't give me a lot of time to ensure that I have everything I'll need. I'm a little worried I might forget something.

What that is, I'm not sure. I've never been camping. But I'm poking around the glamping compound's website, and it's mostly magazine-worthy photographs of the surrounding landscape. The only information I find is a glowing write-up of their chef and wine collection. That and a list of their prices, which are insane. You'd think we were staying at a four-star hotel instead of in a tent.

Solbin and I talked on the phone for almost an hour last night. We firmed up plans to meet up at the star party, and she helped me research the bus lines that runs out there - which are not frequent. Seems as though I have two chances each day to catch a bus heading toward Apsan Park. At least I now have a plan, which is all I ever wanted.

The clinic's door opens, and I look up from the front desk' computer, expecting to see eomma's next acupuncture appointment. My dad doesn't have anything booked until after lunch, so he left a few minutes ago to run errands around town. Fine by me. I've still barely spoken two words to him. I'm not sure what to say. How's it going? Any new mistresses this week? Or perhaps, What's there to do in the Bahamas besides betraying your marriage vows and destroying our family?

I shove all of that into the back of my mind and slip on my polite dealing-with-the-public face. But the smile I'm conjuring quickly fades when I see who's walking toward the desk.

The Lord of Darkness himself, Jeon Jungkook.

My first thought: What is he doing in here?

He never comes in the clinic. Ever, ever, ever. It's probably been a year since he's stepped foot inside this waiting room.

My second thought: OH MY GOD, HE SAW ME SPYING ON HIM IN HIS BEDROOM.

If there's a God above, please let him or her grant me the power of time travel, so that I can rewind the clock and completely avoid this nightmare of a situation. I blink slowly, hoping Jungkook disappear when I reopen my eyes, but no. He and his too-tall body - don't you dare think about his bare chest - are still taking up too much room on the other side of the clinic's desk.

"Hello," he says. it almost sounds like a question.

I think about lifting my chin without saying anything, like he did to me the other day, but quickly decide I'm classier than that. "Good morning," I say formally. No smile. He's not worth the effort.

His eyes drop. He balls his hand into a fist and slowly, gently taps it on top of the desk a couple of times while in a long breath between gritted teeth . . . as though he doesn't know what to say. Or he does, but he really doesn't want to say it.

"So . . ." he finally says.

"So," I agree. Is he avoiding my eyes? It feels as if he might throw dynamite over the desk and race out the door. Now I understand why people say you can cut tension with a knife.

Is he not going to say anything else?

Is he here to confront me?

What do I do?

"I wasn't spying on you," I blurt out defensively. "I was just making adjustments to my telescope. It was repaired. Recently. Recently repaired. I was checking it."

Oh, now he's looking at me. Something akin to horror is dawning over his face. Or shock. Or he thinks I'm an idiot. Why can't I read him? And why is he not saying anything?

"I didn't even see much," I insist.

He nods slowly.

"Anything, really," I amend. "I was testing my telescope."

"You mentioned that," he says, squinting at me through tight eyes.

"Sorry, I mean. I don't have anything to be sorry about, because I didn't do anything."

"Right."

"It was an accident."

"Got it."

My eyes flick to his arms. He's wearing short sleeves, so now I'm staring at muscles. Look away! Look away! Too late. He caught me. Again.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

"So anyway," he says, setting down a pile of envelopes on the desk, as if nothing is amiss. "I was told to come here and drop off your mail. It got delivered this morning."

Oh.

I can barely control the low groan of misery that's burning from the back of my throat. If I'd just kept my mouth shut . . .

"Uh, thanks." I shift the letters toward me with one finger and try to recover what little of my pride is left. "These seemed to be sealed, so I guess you guys didn't open them by mistake this time."

He tugs his ear. A stud twinkle under the light. "He really didn't mean to open it. I was there when it happened."

Crap. He knows. Of course he does. It's not as if I didn't wonder or consider that possibility. But this doesn't stop embarrassment from washing over me now. I busy myself neatly stacking the letters and avoiding his judgmental eyes.

"Hey," he says in an unexpectedly gentle voice.

I look up and he has a strange expression on his face. I can't tell if it's pity or tenderness, or maybe something else entirely. But it feels like he knows something I don't know, and that only increases my panic-fueled pulse.

The door swings open. My dad rushes inside. "Forgot my . . ." He spots Jungkook and stops. His brows narrow to a dark point. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Jungkook raises both hands in surrender, but the look on his face is baldly defiant. "Just delivering mail."

"Don't ever come in my clinic," my dad says, voice thick with displeasure.

"'Thank God for small favors."

"Show some respect."

"I'll show you mine when you show me yours," Jungkook quips, and then adds, "Sir." But he sounds anything but polite.

I'm not sure what to do. Why did Jungkook come over here in the first place? He knows how my dad is. To stop things from escalating, I pipe up and say, "Jungkook was bringing over misdelievered mail."

It's as if my dad doesn't even hear me. He just points to the floor and says, "You aren't supposed to step foot on my property."

Jungkook shrugs. "Your property? Last I checked, you rent this place like the rest of us."

"Don't be a smart-."

"Better a smart- than a dumb-."

Oh, that was a bad thing to say. My dad's expression goes from angry to furious. "Get out."

Jungkook gives him a dark smile. "On my way."

"Damn right, you are," my dad mumbles.

Footsteps pound in the hallway behind the desk, and eomma emerges, breathless, head swiveling in every direction as she surveys the scene. "What is going on?" she whispers loudly. "I've got a client on the table!"

"Mrs. Bae." Jungkook nods politely. "Your husband was just throwing me out."

"Daniel!" eomma chastises.

My dad ignores her. "Don't come back," he tells Jungkook.

"See you, Suzy," Jungkook tells me as he pushes the front door open.

"You talk to my daughter again, and I'll call the cops," my dad calls out.

jungkook turns in the doorway and stares at my dad for several long seconds before shaking his head. "Always a pleasure, Mr. Bae. You're a beacon of civility and chivalry. An absolute gem."

Now my dad is livid, and for a second, I'm worried he might punch Jungkook. Worse, I'm concerned that Jungkook will bring up the Bahamas photobook.

But Jungkook's gaze flicks to eomma's, then mine. Without another word, he leaves. The door shuts behind him, and I watch his dark form disappear down the sidewalk.

"Daniel," eomma says again, this time in quiet exasperation. In defeat.

Silence fills the waiting room. My father reins in his anger, and just like that, all of his tumultuous energy dissipates into a slant of sunlight that beams through the windows. He turns to me and calmly says, "Why was he here? I thought you weren't speaking."

I wave the envelopes Jungkook brought. "We aren't. He was telling the truth."

Does he understand how humiliated I am by what just happened? Whatever issues Jungkook and I have are ours alone, and I'm sick of being stuck in the middle of my dad's squabbles. All of it: his beef with the Jeons, and what he's done to eomma. If only he knew what I was hiding in my bedroom desk . . .

Maybe I should show him the photobook privately and see what he says.

Would he talk his way out of it? Or would he come clean?

I don't think I have the guts to find out.

Dad stares at me, seemingly expressionless, but I can tell that gears are turning inside his head. Does he have some inkling about what I'm thinking? I relax my features to match his.

After a moment, he sniffles softly and jiggles his car keys in his hand. "If that boy bothers you again, Suzy, please tell me. Immediately."

He can hold his breath, but I don't think I'll be confiding anything to him any time soon.

Maybe ever.