QOTD: ‘I don’t trust BMW drivers.’ -holcene

            Yeri thought herself to have excellent intuition—no, in fact, she prided herself in it. There was that one time when she was thirteen and was absolutely sure her homeroom teacher was cheating on his wife with the one lady from the cafeteria. Lo and behold, she saw them shopping together (as friends, he had said upon seeing his student peering patently and suspiciously at him at the mall). Why he was rambling to explain to his homeroom student of all people should have been the real sign for Yeri, but no, Yeri trusted her gut feelings more than the evidence thrown at her face. Either way, Yeri and her classmates ended up having a cool new plaything substitute teacher for a week after the event happened as Mr. Han prepared his divorce papers. Not that he told the class or anything: Yeri just knew it.

            There was also that one time when she predicted Saeron would have a really bad case of diarrhea; only she saw it coming. Granted, the shrimp they ate that day did taste a little off and Yeri also made close friends with the toilet for a couple days. But anyway, Yeri had said it straight to Saeron’s face and no one else did, so she liked to think that it was yet another one of her miraculous predictions.

            So of course when her spidey-senses started tingling at the sight of Wendy and Joy growling at each other upon an accidental meeting, Yeri had a premonition that something big was going to happen. Partly because for the first time in a while her brain was brewing up a subsection to her plan that would greatly aid her and partly because the scene in her seemed very familiar, i.e. she was sure she’d seen it somewhere in a rom-com.

            “I can’t believe you spilled your ugly blue slushie all over my beautiful shirt!” Park Joy screeched, voice hitting a decibel that Yeri was sure stood second only to that one Irish schoolteacher who held the Guinness World Record for shouting at a volume rivaling that of a jet engine. How she knew that, she didn’t know. The point was that Park Joy was frantically waving her arms about and screaming at Son Wendy.

            Of course, Wendy retaliated.

            “Excuse you! Your shirt isn’t even that pretty! Have you seen your face?”

            Oops, there it was. Yeri blinked at the same time the two other girls blinked, one taken aback and the other embarrassed. Had she asked Saeron about the smaller ships on campus yet?

            “Did you...just?”

            “Did I what!” Wendy shouted with false bravado. Her pupils were clearly shaking though. “What, what, what!”

            Joy, who had to be at least a foot taller than the senior, shrunk at the fake aggression. “Geez, okay, ow, my ears. Back off a little, will you? Unless you also like being in my space.”

            “I—what?” This time the roles were reversed, with Wendy gaping in disbelief. “Also?”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “You totally did.”

            Yeri raised a finger, mouth open, wanting to tell Joy that 1) her shirt was starting to look really bad and 2) she did indeed say ‘also.’ But the chismosa in her had already pulled out the popcorn and settled down to watch the show.

            “Wait, wait, wait,” Joy said, putting her hands out. The splotch on her white shirt was starting to become a bit see-through. “I think you’re hearing things wrong, which is weird, because I’m sure your pitch-hearing abilities were sent down by the gods, like your voice—”

            Wendy seemed also to have caught onto Joy’s shirt situation. “You wait.” She roughly took off her zip-up hoodie and slapped it into Joy's general direction, taking care to not hit her face with it. (Yeri was sure she knew why). “My hearing is perfectly fine, thank you. Actually, why am I thanking you, you’re being—”

            “Did you just hit my with your tiny sweater?” Joy screeched, interrupting Wendy’s tangential line of thought. “Do you know how much effort I put into maintaining my—”

            “Imma stop you right there,” Wendy said. She glanced around, finally noticing Yeri and blanching. Her eyes travelled from side to side, as if she wasn’t sure whether to acknowledge the freshman or not.

            “Excuse you, did you just cut me off? My glorious s have just been smacked by your sweater, and you have the audacity to look elsewhere? Why do you think I—”

            “Uh, Sooyoung.” Wendy slapped a hand sloppily over Joy’s mouth, accidentally getting one of her fingers inside the junior’s mouth in the process. “We have...an audience.”

            Yeri raised her eyebrows, smiled prettily in that way she always does, and gave them a small finger wave. Joy blinked rapidly at her as Wendy shifted nervously on her feet.

            “Oh, don’t mind me. Keep going. I’ll stay over here and just watch.” Yeri tilted her head in thought. “Unless you want me to go there. Which is fine by me because I’ll just have a better view.”

            Both girls shook their heads fervently. Yeri shrugged.

            “Although you might wanna cover up your shirt, Joy unnie,” she drawled, pointing at the sweater in her hands. “Wendy unnie so graciously let you use her clothes for it.”

            Looking at the material in her hand and finally understanding its purpose, Joy blushed, shoving Wendy away from her and turning around. She covered her chest with her hands, as if it would do anything, prompting Yeri to nod at the sweatshirt.

            “You should use that just until we can get something else.” Yeri’s head started spinning, the gears not emitting smoke from overkill for once. “Maybe we can go to that mall over there for now?”

            The older girls opened their mouths to protest before realizing that it was probably the smartest thing to do. Collecting their stuff, they obediently walked over to Yeri, who smiled triumphantly. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

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            Saeron couldn’t say anything about Yeri being a bad planner, because Yeri was beautiful, inspiring, and intelligent. And kind. And had killer intuitions. Never again would the universe produce another highflier such as herself.

            Sure Wendy and Joy were still being repressed gays around each other, but simply watching them interact allowed Yeri to draw something bigger, something so wondrous and awe-inspiring, almost as provoking as the fact that ancient Greek statues uniformly had small es. Point aside, Yeri was sure she could use these two in a far more useful way than just being close to them.

            “That looks horrible on you, Park Sooyoung,” Wendy commented, red in the face. She wasn’t even looking at Joy. “I think you look better in black.”

            “Are you trying to tell me I should go for the funeral look?” Joy retorted angrily. She huffed before picking up a satin black button-down and holding it up to her body. “Better?!”

            Yeri mentally face-palmed. She’d have to intervene, being the most socially apt of the three (that’s what she thought).

            “Oh my gosh, unnie, that looks so good on you!” she squealed, eyes smiling charmingly. She latched onto Joy’s arm. “If I were a guy, I’d totally snatch you up, what a catch!”

            Joy didn’t blush but she cleared her thr