Dara

On Wednesday, Jiyong insists on going to school. He says he’s feeling better, although I can tell he’s moving slower than usual and is still in pain. He’s got a black eye and his lip is still swollen, but it just makes him look tougher and rougher. Most of the students at Seoul High are staring and pointing as we walk through the halls. Every time Jiyong notices someone staring, he drapes his arm around me. Playing the role of his girlfriend isn’t fun when all we’re doing is being stared at. But we’re together, and I feed off his strength in the face of all the gossip.

At lunch, I’m sitting with Taeyang when Jiyong walks up to us. “Eww,” Taeyang says. “My eyes are almost tearing from looking at your nasty eye. Do us all a favor and wear a mask or something. Or a blindfold.”

Before I can kick Taeyang under the table, Jiyong takes the back of Taeyang’s chair and tilts it. “Beat it, Young.”

“It’s Taeyang,” Taeyang says, sliding off the chair but doing his best to hold on.

“Whatever. I need to talk to Dara, alone.”

“Stop fighting, you two,” I tell them. “Jiyong, you can’t just order Taeyang to leave.”

“Not even if I’m going to ask you to Homecoming?”

I bite my bottom lip. He’s definitely not serious. He can’t be. There’s no way he can take me to Homecoming when just three days ago he was barely able to move. I see him fighting the urge to wince every time he has to bend to get books from his locker or sit in a chair. He told
me the doctor said he should move so he doesn’t get stiff, but he’s not superhuman, even though I think he wants to be.

Taeyang motions to the floor. “Are you gonna get on one knee? ’Cause everyone is already staring at you guys. I could take a pic on my cell and send it to the yearbook committee.”

“Taeyang,” I say, looking up at my best friend. “Beat it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go eat by Kim KwangWon. Who knows, maybe I’ll be inspired by Jiyong and gather up the nerve to ask him to Homecoming.”

Jiyong shakes his head. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were datin’ him.” When Taeyang is gone, Jiyong pulls up a chair next to me. I notice he holds his breath as he bends to sit down.
He’s doing a good job of trying to hide his pain, and I don’t think anyone else notices. But I do. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a Homecoming ticket. “Will you go to Homecoming with me?”

He’s focused only on me, not caring who may or may not be watching us. I, on the other hand, feel all eyes on me as if they’re darts. “Why ask now, in the middle of lunch?”

“I just bought the ticket five minutes ago. Let’s just say I was anxious to make sure you’d still go with me.”

Ever since he got beat up, he’s been really vulnerable and insecure. It makes me nervous, because I never know if he’s going to end up pushing me away again. I can get used to this Jiyong, the one who isn’t afraid to tell me how much he wants to be with me. But it also makes me emotional, and the more emotional I get, the harder it is to control my stuttering.

“You can hardly m-m-move, Jiyong. You d-d-don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do it.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can’t wait to see you in a dress and heels.”

“W-w-what are you going to wear?” I ask him. “A suit and tie?”

He shoves the ticket back in his pocket. “I was thinkin’ more like jeans and a T-shirt.”

Jeans? T-shirt? Besides being totally inappropriate for the homecoming dance . . . “We won’t match. I can’t pin a boutonniere on a T-shirt.”

“Boutonniere? What the hell is that, and why would I want you to pin it to me?”

“Look it up in the dictionary,” I tell him.

“As long as you’re at it, brother,” Taeyang says as he creeps up behind Jiyong, “you might want to look up the word ‘corsage.’ ”

Jiyong

cor·sage (kôr-säzh,-säj) n. A small arrangement of flowers worn on the wrist or pinned to the shoulder.

That’s what the dictionary says. REACH has a small room they call a library with a bunch of self-help books. I got lucky and found a dictionary, and the first thing I did when I got here was open it. I’m sure Dara would be surprised that I did look it up. So now I’m wondering how I’m gonna find something decent to wear for Homecoming. Equally frustrating is what to do about getting one of these corsages.

Before Choi starts our little therapy session or whatever politically correct name they’ve come up with to call our group of ups this week, JungAh and GeunSuk come up to me.

“What happened to you?” GeunSuk asks. “Get run over by a truck numerous times?”

JungAh, wearing another skirt so short it might get her sent home from school, bites into one of the brownies set out for us. “Rumor has it you got jumped by some gang members fighting for territory.” She says it softly, so Choi can’t hear.

“You’re both wrong.” I slide into a chair and hope Choi doesn’t grill me about the fight. Hell, I finally got Seunghyun to stop grilling me. I told him to back off, and promised to tell him if Devlin or his guys contact me again.

Again, I don’t believe in promises. Why are people such ers?

When SooHyun walks in late, I notice immediately he’s ignoring me. Normally I wouldn’t even notice, but everyone else is staring at me wide-eyed as if my face has been taken over by an alien life-form. Glad they weren’t with me on Sunday. I look a helluva lot better now.

Choi walks into the room, takes one look at me, and walks back out. Sure enough, after a minute Lee Kyuhyun and Shin Donghae appear.

Mr. Lee points to me. “Jiyong, come with us.”

Both Lee Kyuhyun and Shin Donghae me to a little room off to the side. It’s like a room at a doctor’s office, complete with those needle disposal boxes hangin’ on the wall. There’s one difference, though. A toilet is in the corner, with a small privacy curtain hanging off the ceiling.

Lee points at my face. “Your guardian called you out on Monday and Tuesday. He said you were in a fight. Wanna tell us about it?”

“Not really.”

Donghae steps forward. “Okay, Jiyong, here’s the drill. From the look of you, we suspect you’ve been under the influence in the past week. Fights usually go along with drinking and drugs. We’re giving you a urine test. Go wash your hands in the sink over there.”

I want to roll my eyes and tell them that getting your kicked doesn’t mean you’re a druggie, but instead I just shrug. “Whatever,” I say, after I wash my hands. “Just give me a cup so I can get it over with.”

“If you test positive, you’re expelled,” Lee says as he opens one of the cabinets and pulls out a urine cup. “You know the rules.”

I reach for the cup, but Donghae holds his hand up. “Let me explain what you need to do. You’ll have to strip down to