Amber held one finger to her lips, the universal sign for one to stay quiet.

I nodded, both of my hands already clasped to my mouth in case a stray giggle randomly decides to pop out.

With my signal, Amber slowly and cautiously slid a hand into the small crack of the door opening to minimize noise. The whole five seconds, the both of us prayed that our first period maths teacher was too engrossed in geometry work to notice our sudden appearance.

Even as clichéd and expected as it seems (and due to the inexperienced writer’s lack of a plot); we ended up running 30 minutes late to class. School assembly is usually 10 to 15 minutes, tops, so we were around 15 minutes late for first period.

If it had been any other day, Amber and I would’ve just waltzed in there like our forefathers built up the place with their own wrinkly hands late in the 70s (15 minutes is never that much of a biggie) – but no, we had to end up late to Mr Frederickson’s class, a tight-lipped no-nonsense transfer from England.

I loathe him.

He’s the type of teacher that would give you extra homework for coming in a minute late and detention for the whole week for five. It’s no wonder England wanted to exchange the man, he would frown at new born puppies and give them detention slips for coming out late.

A small creak from the door and Amber hastily shut it again, flashing me a sheepish and somewhat apologetic grin.

I glared at her. If it hadn’t been for her damned stomach we would be in class by now, me diligently scribbling notes – secretly doodling in the corners – and Amber trying not to get caught sleeping at the back of the class.

Amber of all people should know that I’ve been attracting trouble at school. There was that fight I had with that one senior in school, the late night graffiti Joon and posse had dared me and Amber to do (we were caught by the disciplinary teacher herself halfway through writing ‘weasels gonna hate’) add in my countless tardies and other crap I’ve done; I end up knee-deep in and a visit to the principal’s office.

But, no, she just had to pick food over her best friend of 10 years.

“Haerinnnnnnnnn, I’m huuuuuuuuuuungwy,” Amber whined, our pace slowing drastically.

I kept a briskly pace walking to school, holding myself back from breaking off into a run. “School is only 10 minutes away now, hold it in.”

“And lunch is another 4 hours away – I can’t.”

Finally, I turned around, Amber nearly colliding into my face. “I can’t afford another detention slip, you know that, the universe knows that, so cut me some slack and let’s. Go.”

I grabbed her hand and started pulling on her hands but then she squatted down on the ground, putting all her weight on her. I heaved, but she stayed put.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned out loud, “will you just move?! And, gawd, how many pounds did you gain in the past week? You weight a ton.”

Amber only pouted. “Well I’m about to go all anorexic on you if I don’t eat something right now!”

“Good flipping riddance to that then! Let’s go.”

“Nonononononon – hey,” she broke off mid-rant.

“Hm?”

“You smell that?”

“Uh, yeah, that trashcan beside you? The smell’s sticking to you there, Ams.”

“No – hotdogs!” she screeched in glee, leaping and running off into the direction of a hotdog stall by the side of the road, dragging me along with.

“Oioioi! Watch it, I am worth more than your big ing toe,” I said as she roughly pulled me towards the vendor, me almost making contact with a tree in her enthusiasm.

“Oh, hush, you really nag too much,” she grumbled, a smile instantly gracing her lips when the vendor turned to her.

“Hello, how may I help you couple with?” he grinned at us, a friendly twinkle in his eyes.

The both of us didn’t even bother correcting the guy. People have always mistaken Amber as a dude and noting how ‘cuddly’ we are – since females tend to hang off of each other – we’re always thought of as dating each other. s at school would holler “LEZZIES” at us from a safe distance and even the occasional freshman would refer to Amber as ‘hyung’ or ‘oppa’ and mistake us as a so-called ‘item.’ After all this while, I’m practically immune to the misconception.

“Hi, two hotdogs, please – wait make that three, I’m famished – and two sodas to top it off,” she told the vendor, digging into her back pocket for some change.

I waited for the cheery vendor to turn back to flipping hotdogs before smacking Amber right in the head, making her yelp. “We’re supposed to be at school right now,” I hissed at her, ignoring her pouting.

“We will be in school, just give the guy some space to fry his meat and then we’ll be off.”

“And hotdogs? For breakfast?” I never care much for what I eat but my mom used to drill it into my head how I should always be eating fruits and nuts and straight-out organic food for breakfast. And I sort of like to stick to my parent’s requests after they’ve been gone on that trip for the past months. In a way, it makes me feel closer to them.

“Oh, yeah, your mother, how silly of me – add in some salad to the hotdogs would you, mister?” Amber called out, getting a nod from the vendor in reply.

“That’s not what I meant,” I sighed heavily, crossing my arms.

“Oh, lighten up, Hae,” Amber chastised, slinging one arm over my shoulders. “We’ll grab some grub, my hunger will be sated and then we’ll be in school learning how to shapes all over again – with a twist.”

My face was blank.

“Get it? Because we use compasses and protractors now and the is seriously too complicated when you only want to draw lines criss-crossing one another–”

“I GET IT,” I snapped, glaring her down. “Just spare me your lame puns and – help me God – if we don’t get to school on time, I will smack your bloody face into oblivion.”

“Been watching too much Doctor Who, eh? I’m guessing a marathon.”

“Yes – therewasamarathonyouwiseass– now shut your face.”

We had gotten pass the security guard, dodged behind multiple over-sized potted plants to avoid roaming janitors and the like, now we only need to sneak into class unnoticed and act like we’ve been there since early morning. Class monitors are assigned to roll call and Jessica Jung, one of the top ‘queenkas’  in our school and typically stereotypical of one (the you-are-below-me aura), usually puts off roll call to late in the periods.

She also has the rep of being quite the air-head, so both Amber and I were safe… if only that old coot would just turn his back for five seconds.

“Now about the other method…” he trailed off, the heavens answering our prayer as he turned to face the blackboard, sharpened chalk in hand.

Nownownownownownow! I mentally screamed at Amber, practically shoving her. She took the hint, and took swift.

I tip-toed after, more cautious with the ground I thread. I had taken off my shoes to make as little sound as possible.

By the time I closed the door behind me (luckily most of the class was half-asleep and Mr Frederickson has old man ears), Amber had already slid into her seat, eyes triumphal.

Classroom entrances are always at the back of the class. Teachers says it’s to put class disturbances to a minimum, late students bless the door as it makes them sneak into class easier, I sort of wondered why they never placed the door right in the middle. I mean, class disturbance and the percentage of late students getting caught would be 50/50. And what about the kids who sat up front, anyways? What about me? Life is seriously too unfair.

I glowered at her cheerfulness, slinking behind a drowsy Kevin adorably blinking his eyes to stay awake. I moved on, not wanting to wake him, and slipped in between the Ryu twins. Hyoyoung’s quite the tattletale but since me and the twins are pretty close, she let it slip, deliberately facing away.

I moved from seat to seat and was finally – as I was hiding under Lim’s desk – two seats away from mine.

Gosh, I just realized that our class is really long.

I risked a glance to Mr Frederickson. His back was still – fortunately – turned.

“Now, when you…” and he droned on, being appropriately immersed in his overly descriptive explanation.

Just a few steps away and I would be safe in my chair, minding my own business.

Just another two steps, I thought, slowly inching forward in socks-clad feet, my worn shoes dirtying my school blazer.

A foot popped out and before I could process anything, I was face-down the floor and my shoes flew out of my hands…

… right into the back of Mr Frederickson’s head.

I’m fried.

Slowly, he turned to face me still flat on the floor, too embarrassed to rise. I couldn’t see his face but I’m pretty sure he’s not spouting rainbows.

“Rise,” he ordered.

I hastily righted myself, head still bowed.

“Oh, Ms Haerin, you again...”

 I looked up at him and – wow – he really is seething, isn’t he? I gulped. “T-teacher! I – I’m so sorr –”

“Sorry is not going to cut it,” he interrupted sharply, beady black eyes cutting right through me. “Take this as a warning, Ms Go, or you will find yourself in detention writing a thousand lines by the end of the week.”

Fact #11 about Mr Frederickson is that he loves to give ancient punishments.

Finally the universe graces me with a break. “I… I understand, sir.”

“Now get back into your seat, Ms Haerin – all of you to your seats. And what the bog is it with your skirt? Even your school blazer’s scuffled – and since when did the school allow jackets?! Such chivalry! No such delinquency was tolerated back in the day; in fact I recalled that…”

I heard someone snickering and my shoulders slumped. The shame, I moaned mentally as I crawled into my seat. I turned to face my culprit and la de da the devil Kim Jonghyun was staring back at me, a smirk on his lips.

Of course it was my arch-nemesis, the short egoistical self-titled Casanova, Kim Jonghyun. We’ve been rivals ever since we were kids. Maybe even before that. I don’t know; we’ve known each other since our diaper days. Our parents were friends so we had a lot of ‘play dates.’ I can vaguely remember a time when we were still kids, playing in the sand box but other than that, I barely remember anything else. I guess we used to be mates, but now? Now I feel the need to punch his ugly face in.

I mustered up my deadliest glare and mouthed, “You die today,” showing him the finger.

He leaned in close. “I’d like to see you try,” he whispered into my ear.

The asswipe was completely unfazed. Well, with our history together, death threats are actually pretty normal.

So, with the little dignity I had left, I kicked him hard in the shin, revelling in his little yelp.

Unfortunately, my little retaliation was caught in the act.

“Mr Kim Jonghyun! And Ms Haerin! A class disruption – the second time this morning! Do I need to place the both of you together in detention?!” Mr Frederickson erupted.

Jonghyun was just about to protest in a plea when Amber shot up from her seat. “Sir – if I may – Jonghyun was sleeping through your wonderful lectures and Haerin was only doing him justice by trying to wake him up. He’s making quite a fuss about nothing,” she finished off, secretly winking at me.

Amber! Good to know she has my back.

“I wasn’t – I – no –” Jonghyun spluttered, trying to explain himself but only getting interrupted again by Hwayoung.

“I, too, saw him, sir,” she clarified. “He was busy mumbling about ‘bosoms and such.”

I stifled a giggle. Jonghyun turned beet red.

“What insolence! Never was there such mannerisms in my days!” the teacher bellowed, face slightly red from exertion.

“And ‘sausage fests,’ too!” a voice at the back quipped.

The whole class was now silently laughing at the situation, much to Mr Frederickson’s chagrin. Jonghyun glared at the culprit.  I had a hard time holding in my laughter.

“Oh, is this funny to you, Ms Go?” he turned to me and I gulped in reflex.

“Er…” I didn’t even get a word in.

“Insolence! Lack of discipline!” he grumbled. “The both of you stand out of the classroom with your hands up. I’ll let you come in by the end of the period. And bring your textbooks with you – there’ll be a pop quiz, so study up.”

Jonghyun raised a hand. “But teacher, how are we supposed to read if our hands are up –”

“Your problem, not mine – now go. I’ll be checking up on you from time to time so be wary.”