I blow some hair strands out of my face, annoyed.

Almost a week has passed since that teacher’s advice for me to socialize. I did not. But I did understand why he told me that. This class is very different from the old one. There are more students of the rebellious and bad-mouthed type. Being an outcast in a class such as this probably means true bullying. It’s like a class made up of ten more Byunghees that are twice as bad.

A little late to realize that. It’s always difficult to change a first impression. And this class does not like me one bit, which is self-inflicted due to my lack of friendliness. But I don’t really care, as long as I am not physically harmed. My status as the Lee heiress will most-likely protect me from that.

It’s not the class‘ stupid remarks that’s annoying me. It’s that teacher. He has again, as the sound of footsteps behind me indicate, followed me to the rooftop. Just like yesterday and the day before that. I ignored him and just ate my food and quickly left.

But I did not want to chased from the peaceful rooftop again.

“What do you want?” I don’t turn to look at him. His face, his whole being here, still gives me a pang of uncomfortable nostalgia of my old self.

“I think I told you already.” I can hear the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Students aren’t allowed on the rooftop without permission.”

I scoff. “But I don’t want to eat in the classroom. Will you deny me even this?”

“I’m not denying you anything, which is exactly why I’m here.” When he answers, his voice is more distant. He has moved to the other fence again, leaning against it.

Out of reflex I turn to his side because I don’t understand what he means. And immediately, when the pang of nostalgia and disgust of my old self comes at the sight of him, I regret it. I swallow and tighten the grip around my lunchbox.

He is leaning casually against the fence, just like the days before. Pointing to himself, he says, “I’m your permission, in case you forgot that I am a teacher now.”

“But I want to be alone,” I mumble, wait and then add, “please, Mr. Lu.” And I mean it. All I want is a break from … from what is hard to say. Not just the class or school, but life in general. I want to return to the stay abroad.

In the corner of my eye – I avoid looking at him directly – I can see him surrender. He slowly walks back to the door.

Thank you, I mumble in my mind and turn around again.

Having heard the click of the door, I go on eating and watching the skyline of the city. When I am finished, having packed my lunchbox into the cloth, I slowly stroll to my classroom. The hallways are empty – I’m a little late but it doesn’t really matter – and I savor the extraordinariness of a hallway so void of any noise.

This serenity stops when I reach my classroom at the end of the hallway. Noise can be heard from outside it, and a weird chill runs down my spine as I hear what appears to be my name.

I open the door, but no one – Mr Lu isn’t here yet – pays me any attention. Even when I’m near my desk, my classmates don’t seem to care. They’re still scribbling on it with a red marker. And I almost have to laugh when I read the kind of insults you’d usually see in a Shoujo manga.

Never would I have expected to end up in the role of the bullying victim. Ironically, last year when I pictured myself as the friendly new student everybody would like I ended up in the role of the villain, if you will. And this year, even though I haven’t attempted to act out any role at all, one is given to me.

It’s like I can never be free from my surroundings. It’s them deciding what I will be, not me. Never me. Always them.

I don’t bother to glance at who did this, because in all honesty it does not interest as long as it’s not my belongings they touched. Poor desk, I think as I touch my desk, you never did anything to them. And just for the desk and the fact that some poor cleaning lady will have to scrub this off, I’d want to tell them off like the noona I actually am to them (repeating this year and all). But I don’t want them to think they’ve annoyed me. That only fuels it, judging from my pseudo-knowledge from mangas.

Besides, I am too lazy, too passive in my current self to incite a fight. So I sit down, put my books on the desk and go through the day as the day before.

It is when class is over and I remove my books from the desk that I am reminded of how eye-catching the red marker is. I tilt my head, wondering what the cleaning lady will think.

“So it started,” a voice suddenly comes from behind me and I jump just a tiny little b