I opened the door and only to be met with the cold, menacingly flickering glow of fluorescent lights. A gust of frigid air rolled over me, causing goosebumps to appear up and down my arms. Huffing my bangs out of my eyes, I placed my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at the haunting depths of coldness. “Let’s do this,” I shouted to no one and pulled a “hwaiting” pose for personal moral support.

The fridge was practically a barren wasteland (my mom had recently decided to go on another one of her silly low carb diets and the stock of our fridge had recently taken a B I G, devastating hit).  In a lonely back corner stood a quart of Umma’s “favorite” flavorless, low-cal Greek yogurt. I crinkled my nose at the diet-friendly substance. “Ugh! There is no way to make that diet-friendly goo edible!” I huffed in exasperation…Unless… My eyes darted to the half-filled egg carton and the small pile of kiwis and THAT’S IT! If anyone could make random ingredients into a delicious indulgence it was me, Hong Eunmi.

I had loved baking for as long as I could remember. In fact, one of my very first memories was standing over a bowl of cinnamon-sugary cookie dough as my Halmoni’s (grandma!) reassuringly guided me through stirring the sticky batter. I smiled at the memories. I had long since progressed from simple Snickerdoodles and were known as something of a local culinary genius, whipping out delicious platters of macarons, éclairs, and decadent cakes on a moment’s notice. Of course I was well loved by all of my neighbors because I was always giving them the delicious results of my baking experiments. I loved challenging myself to make new and even more delicious things out of unexpected ingredients. And my mother’s new diet provided the perfect opportunity to experiment with new ingredients. Plus I had had a really bad day at school and needed to let off some steam. There was no better way to let off steam for me, Hong Eunmi, than by baking.

As I deftly began cracking eggs into a bowl I thought back about what had happened at school today and bit my lip in a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Just the thought of how much he got under my skin turbo-charged my whisking speed (providing an outlet for my frustration…and producing a pillowy meringue in record time!)

F L A S H B A C K

“Eunmi-ah~ It’s a good thing that you’ve got an ok face…because that brain of yours is not doing you any favors.” Hyejoo playfully grimaced as she held up my Geometry worksheet. There were red correction marks (courtesy of Hyejoo herself) tattooed across the “simple” page of Angle Trisections that had kept me up half the night.

“YAH! PARK HYEJOO! What do you mean ‘ok face’?!? This here is a work of art.” I yelled in mock fury at my best friend as I crumpled up the worksheet and tossed it at her head. I missed her by a mile (I guess good aim is just one more thing in which I am lacking).

I saw Hyejoo’s face rapidly darken with seriousness as her eyes fell on the brochure that I had lying on top of my Geometry textbook.

“Seriously though, Eunmi-ah. How are you going to convince your parents to go to pastry school if you can’t at least make an A- in Geometry this term?”

“Pabo!” I chuckled as I tucked the pastry school brochure into my textbook but mentally I was thinking They wouldn’t let me go to pastry school even if I made an A+++ and the principal put my name on some plaque saying I was the world’s greatest student.

“You know I’m here to help you, right? Any tutoring you need…anything. Just let me know. That’s what a best friend is for.”

“YAH Hyejoo-yah! Stop with this sad stuff and let’s get back to talking about what you want for your birthday. I was thinking A layered chiffon cake with apricot jam and rose-scented whipped cream. That way everything is your favorite colors…what do you….”

But Hyejoo wasn’t listening; when I looked up she was drenched in milk. Her bangs were plastered to her face and milk trailed down her shoulders onto her desk like tears. I looked up to see the queenka of our class, Seo Nana, standing over Hyejoo with an empty carton of milk. Oh no.

“Uh oh. Park Hyejoo, how did you get milk all over you? Don’t look so smart now do you, you wannabe little .” Nana spat at Hyejoo and tossed her perfect hair over her shoulder. Hyejoo said nothing, keeping her eyes on her desk. I could see her lips beginning to tremble and I knew tears couldn’t be far behind. I jumped out of my seat, hands clenched into fists.

“YAH SEO NANA! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I screamed with all of my might. All eyes were now on our previously quiet corner of the classroom.

“Oh so Hyejoo’s tacky little friend actually summoned up the mental energy to make words. Very good job, Eunmi-ah.” Nana spoke to me slowly like I was a toddler or a puppy dog. My blood boiled and I dug my nails into my palms in an effort not to slap Nana across the face. “Well you see Eunmi-ah, your friend here seems to think that she can just keep on greedily getting the best scores in the class – do you think that you’re the only girl here smart enough to be the top student? Wake up, Hyejoo. This is my final warning. My Kim Suho has always been the top student in the class and some wannabe little like you isn’t going to change that as long as I’m around.”

Hyejoo said nothing. Nana pulled her cellphone out of her bag and pointed it at Hyejoo.

“You really are a sight to behold, Park Hyejoo. I’m sure this picture will be a hit on the Internet.”

Nana’s finger was poised just above the photo button ready to snap the picture of Hyejoo when – B A M – I snapped instead. Before I could even process what was happening, I had plucked Lee Nana’s phone out of her hand and plopped it in my carton of milk. It made little sizzling noises as submerged in the milk. Nana stared at me wide-eyed.

“Uh oh, Nana-ssi! That’s not where a phone goes is it. I guess I was just too stupid to know.” I played dumb and shrugged at Nana. “Now. GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY FRIEND” I spat.

“YAHHHH. HONG EUNMI. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“If I’m not mistaked, Lee Nana…I just destroyed your phone.”

“Wrong, you little idiot. That wasn’t my phone, that was my precious Suho’s phone! You’re going to pay for this.”

Suddenly the whole classroom let out a collective gasp as someone opened the door. Kim Suho sauntered into the classroom, hands in his pockets, and smirked thinking the gasps where for him. But then his eyes found the phone that was floating in my milk carton. His eyes were murderous as they made their way up from the dying phone and

zeroed

in

on

me.

Crap