t h r e e;

It was one of those days when Chorong and I decided to go to the hill.

Her father was out again for another business trip, so she had been staying at my house. Earlier that day, we finished the last paper for our finals that marked the beginning of summer break. To celebrate the coming vacation, I suggested for us to go to the hill. We ran there as soon as we got home to drop our bags. We didn’t even have lunch.

“The last one to arrive has smelly feet!” I exclaimed before sprinting off, leaving Chorong behind.

“Yah, that’s not fair!” she protested.

Being a runner, I hardly shed any sweat running towards the hill. But of course, I had to be a gentleman and pretended to hit a rock and tripped to let her win.

We played a lot of games. Some we invented ourselves, like If-We-Scream-Loud-Enough-Would-Chorong’s-Dad-In-Seoul-Hear-Us, where we basically just needed to yell as hard as we could.

Okay, I admit that that wasn’t really a game.

Next, she taught me some new hapkido steps that she had just learned, and I taught her to run. There wasn’t much to teach about running actually, but I just explained the essential things, just in case she needed it in Physical Education test.

After three hours or so, we began to be exhausted from all the running and yelling and giggling. Then, we sat down for a while and I sang her a song that she loved, ‘My Love, Crybaby’. I asked her how did she know such an old song and why did she love the song. She said it was her mother’s favourite song, as told by her father.

Chorong didn’t want to go back yet, but I was hungry since we skipped lunch. For the first time ever, we left before the night falls.

Just as we arrived in front of my house, a large truck caught our eyes. It stopped right next to Chorong’s gate, and people were moving a lot of furniture and boxes from the truck. Curious, Chorong approached the truck, not really to ask questions, but just to watch them from a closer distance. That was when we met the quiet boy who at that time was leaning against the wall playing with a Rubik’s cube.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

The boy said nothing but just shot us a glare. I stared at him back, and he returned his gaze to the cube in his hands. “Myungsoo,” he finally answered.

Chorong was about to ask another question, but was interrupt by the sight of my mother with another woman her age coming out from the house. My mother saw the three of us and her face lit up. “So you’ve met,” she beamed. “Myungsoo and her mom will be living here,”

The woman next to her ―Myungsoo’s mother, smiled politely at Chorong and I. She then put a hand on her son’s head and ruffled it gently. “Be good friends, okay?”

When I turned to look at Chorong, she was already on her way towards the boy. “I’m Park Chorong. I’m eight years old,” she introduced herself brightly while extending her hand.

Myungsoo lifted his eyes from the cube and gaped at her for a moment. “I’m seven,”

I watched as the boy took my best friend’s hand and shook it the way I shook her hand the first time the two of us officially met that morning in my bedroom. Then, he handed her the Rubik’s cube he was playing with and ran to his mother.

As I witnessed everything, I silently wished that I had listened to Chorong to stay at the hill for a little longer.

My mother invited them over for dinner that day. Over the dining table, she told Myungsoo’s mother about almost everything; the neighbourhood, the nearest markets and the ones that sell the cheapest meats and vegetables and whatsoever, the school, and Chorong and I. Honestly, I didn’t like the idea of us two being told to anyone. I’d like to keep our story as our own secret, but oh well.

Usually, Chorong and I would rush to play the console game once we were done with our meals. However, that day, she didn’t budge from her seat even after she had finished eating. She just sat there and watched Myungsoo twirling the broccolis in his plate with his chopsticks. I called her and signalled her about the game. She looked at me with pleading eyes and asked in a soft voice, “Can he play along?”

“Sure,” I smiled, and she quickly ran towards him and grabbed his hand.

Soon, I learned that the console game was not the only thing that I had to share with Myungsoo. We included him in everything we do ―the walk to and from school, the lunch at my house, the silly little games we play, and even the monthly trip to the hill. Although I did not mind to share my toys, I did mind about sharing Chorong and our traditions. I asked my mother once, why I had to share everything with Myungsoo.

“Why not? You share them with Chorong,” my mother replied.

“Chorong’s different,” I pouted.

“Because she’s a girl?” She laughed at me and tousled my hair. “Don’t be so petty, Woohyun ah,”