"I heard you failed the test," Minki says and I'm not sure why. I'm not sure what's the point of him telling me this. Even if it's true. Even if I did fail the test and I told exactly one person, Jae. I only told him because he's, for some reason, one of the few people I can't lie to. Maybe it's because I was there when he found out his mom died, three years ago. Maybe it's because I know he likes me, at least the way he finds any excuse to touch my hands indicates he does.

"I did," I say, forcing a fake tight smile and flicking the ash off my cigarette. I smile because I don't know how he wants me to respond. Obviously faling is bad. Am I suppose to tell him I'll do better on the next one? Why should I tell him that? Who cares.

We were standing on the balcony of the apartment. I don't know why I said he could come over and hangout when my mom would be home any minute. Despite knowing Minki since we were in elementary, because we're teens even he is not absolved from a little mistrust. Because teen girls and teen boys alone only means one thing, right?

I raise my eyebrows up at the thought, annoyed just thinking about it. If I wanted to Minki, I could've and would've done it like a year ago.

We watch the sun go down silently. It feels like watching curtains fall or credits roll. When it's gone completely, I almost want to clap. I wonder what it's like to be the sun, to be beauty with no real purpose, to be beautiful by nature or accident, to be watched like a lover at dusk and incapable of thanking the spectators for their time. Out of all the things to watch, you watched little old me?

I could share these thoughts with Minki but I don't think he's in the right mood for this type of discussion. Some nights he's not afraid of conversation, but most nights he'd rather just talk about school work.

I crush the tip of the cigarette into the cement ledge. I hadn't even let it touch my lips. I quit smoking yesterday but I'd lit this one subconciously and decided to let it burn. The smoke was calming to look at, ghostly wisps that looked like impossibly light, incredibly translucent, scarves swirling around me.

I could feel Minki's stare. My eyes moved around quickly out of nervousness. When I turned to face him, a gust of wind hit us. His bangs flew sideways, or what was left of them. He'd gotten a haircut last week. I thought it looked nice. He looked youthful. He looked middle school. It made me nostalgic and comforted. As if we weren't in 3rd year, as if we still swapped lunch food sides we brought from home. As if he was still the kid our girl friends swore I'd end up with.

I push the cigarette from the ledge, letting it free fall twenty feet. I think cigarettes are terrible for the environment but I have to make some moral sacrifices. I could either save the earth from my single cigarette or I could deal with the possibility of my mother finding it. I value my life too much to let the latter happen. And like I said, I quit smoking. So earth please forgive me. I swear I will never liter toxic like this again.

"You're narrating, aren't you," Minki says. It's not really a question. I know he can tell from my facial expressions. I don't know what I look like when I get this way but I know it amuses him. He says I'm conceited.

"You think you're so deep," he once said to me when I told him about my habit. He wasn't trying to be mean and he was partially right.

But doesn't everyone think they're kind of deep? Or alien like? Or like everyone else are aliens?

Minki looks at me, expecting a reply back, but I just look at him. And we blink a few times. And it feels like a typical movie. And because I'm a teen girl and he's a teen boy and we're childhood friends and the sun's just gone down and my skin tingles in thrill from thinking my mom could arrive at any moment and see us in a comprised situation, I almost do want to kiss him.

His ears are red from the chilly air and the beauty mark below is left eye looks like a brown star lost in a sky of milky skin. A brown star he could some day romantically dedicate to me.

But I don't kiss him because I shouldn't kiss him just because the movies have wired my mind into thinking I should.

"Let's go inside, it's getting cold," I say, walking away. He follows and I close the sliding door behind us.

I see my mom in the kitchen. Grocery bags sit on the table. We help her put the food away because we're decent teens. I think about the test I failed. I think about Jae's hands touching mine. I think about Minki's beauty mark. But mostly I think about what we're having for dinner because I'm starving.