Today is October 27^th. My birthday. I walk down the halls, listening to one of my favorite songs on the way to my locker. Once I open the obnoxiously loud red metal door, a strong hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around.

                “Well, well, well, would you look at that… it’s the little banana boy,” What a stupid nickname. Is everyone in America so racist? He gives me a look that says ‘say something.’ I’m so sick of that look. “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Don’t you have any friends? Or does no one like a freak?” Another football jock comes up to me and grabs my hair, and then the first one punches me hard; right in the stomach. I make a silent gasp for air and do my best not to fall to my knees as they continue hitting me. I’m fine with verbal abuse, but physical? I’m weak and thin and not strong at all, so each punch feels like a ten ton weight hitting me right in all the most painful places. “Look at him! He’s crying!” The jocks laugh, and I mentally curse myself for allowing tears to fall. I’m not crying, my eyes are watering from the pain. I wish I could tell them that. I wish I could stick up for myself. I wish—

                “Knock it off, guys,” A strong voice rings from behind the jocks and as soon as they release my hair, I look up and see… how can I describe him? Well, it’d be easiest to say that he’s definitely Korean too. His deep brown hair almost touches his shoulders, and he seems to have kind, forgiving eyes. When those eyes meet mine, something in my heart freezes up. And here I thought those punches left me breathless. “Get to practice. Coach is pissed ‘cuz you’re late,” The jocks scurry off, and if they had tails they would be between their legs. The Korean comes over to me and offers his hand to help me up. “Are you okay?” When did I fall to the ground? I take his hand, and the contact makes me shudder. I’m disgusted at the way I feel for this guy, but it’s as if my whole body is screaming, begging for him to hold me. Once I’m standing, my face twists up at the searing pain I feel in my stomach. I cough silently into my hand, and I see a small puddle of red. My eyes widen, and apparently the guy notices, because he wraps his arm around my waist, and then hoists my arm around his shoulder. “Come on; let’s get you to the nurse.”

                We walk most of the way in silence; the only sound following us is the sound of our feet clopping on the ground in sync. “What’s your name?” I shake my head since I don’t have a notepad with me. “What, you can’t tell me? Is it a secret?” I shake my head again, then point to my throat and frown. “Oh… you can’t talk, right? Are you Daegun, then?” My eyes widen in surprise that he knows me and I nod. “I heard about you from the other guys. You’re a mute right?” I nod again, a small smile spreading across my face at the sight of someone being kind and not being a jerk. “I’m sorry to hear that. Something bad must have happened for you to end up like that…” The smile leaves just as soon as it came, the memory of my ninth birthday rushing back. It was eight years ago today. Before I have time to stop it, a tear rolls down my face, so I quickly wipe it away. “I didn’t mean to make you cry! I just… I don’t know. I was hoping we could be friends, since it’s rare to see many Asians around here. It’s not really a big city. Would it be okay if we were friends?” I stare at him blankly. Is this a joke? He’s making fun of me, isn’t he? This has to be some kind of trick. He’s kidding. “I’m not kidding. You seem nice and I want to apologize on behalf of those other guys. They’re a bunch of bullies with no lives.” And you’re different? “I’m not like them though. I’m only on the football team so they don’t bother me. I’m captain, you know. If they bother you again, just let me know. After all, friends help each other, right?” Friends? How long has it been since I’ve had a friend? I tilt my head at him and mouth the word ‘name.’  “Oh, my name? It’s Seunghyun. Seunghyun Song. It’s nice to meet you, Daegun.”