A pool of drool unceremoniously spilled out across my desk, and I had opened my eyes just in time to hear Mr. Sung slam a dictionary down on the table. I had only been here a month, but I had already ascertained that this was his way of waking me up from my daily naps during his History lecture. I knew he got some kind of kick out of startling students awake, so I refused to let myself be jarred or react in anyway. Lately, I had been managing to wake up a second before he tried to wake me, which made it easier to ignore. This time, I didn't do anything at all. In fact, I closed my eyes again and pretended to keep sleeping.

"Miss Park?" Mr. Sung snapped, clearly not happy with my reaction, and I had to fight to keep the smile back. "Miss Park?"

"Hmm?" I murmured.

I lifted my head and tried to wipe away the drool as discreetly as possible. Surreptitiously, I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, and that Jung Hyoyeon was looking at me with a devilish smile, so I had a feeling she'd seen it. She pushed her brunette locks out of her face and winked at me in a strangely seductive manner, and I had no response to that.

Most of the class seemed pretty oblivious, except for Kim Jongin. He'd been here a week, so he was the only kid in school newer than me. There was something oddly still and quiet about him, and I was fairly certain that I had yet to hear him speak, even though he was in four of my classes. His black hair was smoothed back, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black. Whenever I looked at him, he always seemed to be staring at me in a completely unabashed way, like it was perfectly natural to just sit in class and look at me all the time. With his rather striking looks, he was attractive, but there was nothing flattering about the way he looked at me. He just stared, the way I stare at the TV when something boring's on. I feel compelled to look, but I don't really care or even notice what's happening. 

"Sorry to disturb your sleep, " Mr. Sung cleared his throat so I would look up at him, and I purposely yawned loudly.

"It's okay, " I said.

"Go easy on her, Mr. Sung," Hyoyeon chimed in, her voice diceptively sweet. "Hyemi was just getting her beauty sleep, and she needs all the help she can get."

The class snickered at that, and I turned back to glare at her. Unfortunately, that Jongin, otherwise known as Kai kid sat behind her. He wasn't laughing at her joke, but he didn't disapprove either. For a change of pace, he was looking down at his book, and a strand of hair fell across his forehead.

"Then you must be about due for a coma, " I told Hyoyeon, and her plastic smile grew harder. Kai almost seemed to smirk at that, but I was probably imagining things. He never had expressions.

"Miss Park, why don't you go down to the principal's office?" Mr. Sung suggested tiredly, and I groaned. "Since you seem to be making a habit of sleeping in my class, maybe he can come up with some ideas to help you stay awake. "

"I'm awake, " I insisted hopefully.

"Miss Park, now. " Mr. Sung pointed to the door, as if I had forgotten how to leave and that's what was holding me back.

"Fine, " I huffed and shoved my books into my bookbag. I don't know why I even took my books out, since I had designated History as my afternoon nap time.

"She's just lucky she didn't drown in her own drool, " Hyoyeon sneered as I made my way towards the door.

Restraint had never been my strong suit, but I was really working on it. I gripped the strap of my bookbag tightly and gritted my teeth as I walked out of the class, but I didn't pause or look back. You cannot punch Hyoyeon in the face, you cannot punch Hyoyeon in the face, I kept repeating over and over in my head. It had basically been my mantra since I started here, but it was getting harder and harder to uphold.

I walked slowly down the hall towards the principal's office, admiring the battered lockers. There were bright colored fliers posted everywhere, telling everyone to join the Debate team, try out for the school play, and not to miss the fall semi-formal this Friday. I wondered what a 'semi-formal' consisted of at a pubic school, but I hadn't bothered to ask anyone. Besides that, since I had never been to a dance of any kind, I had nothing to compare it to.

The principal's secretary was a pudgy woman with dark curly hair, and she gave me the same severe look over her glasses that she did every time I came in the office. It was neither disappointed nor disapproving, but rather just as she expected. I could almost imagine