Jiyong

“I don’t need a peer guide.”

Those are the first words out of my mouth as Mr. Seong, the Seoul High School principal, introduces me to Park Sandara.

“We pride ourselves on our peer outreach programs,” Mr. Seong says to Seunghyung “They help ensure a smooth transition.”

My brother nods. “No problem with me. I’m sold on the idea.”

“I’m not,” I mumble. I don’t need a damn peer guide because

(1) it’s obvious from the way Seunghyun greeted Sandara a few minutes ago that he knows her, and

(2) the girl is not hot; she has her hair up in a ponytail, is wearing leather hiking boots with three-quarter stretch pants with an Under Armour logo peeking out the bottom, and is covered from neck to knee by an oversized T-shirt with the word MOUNTAINEER written on it, and

(3) I don’t need a babysitter, especially one that my brother arranged.

Mr. Seong sits in his big, brown leather chair and hands Sandara a copy of my schedule. Great, so now the girl knows where I’m supposed to be every second of the day. If this situation weren’t so humiliatin’, it’d be hilarious.

“This is a big school, Jiyong,” Mr. Seong says as if I can’t figure out the map on my own. “Dara is an exemplary student. She’ll show you to your locker and you to each class for your first week here.”

“You ready?” the girl asks with a big grin. “The first-period late bell already rang.”

Can I request another peer guide, one who isn’t so happy to be at school at seven thirty a.m.?

Seunghyun waves me off, and I’m tempted to flip him the finger but I’m not sure the principal would appreciate it.

I follow the exemplary student out into the empty hallway and I think I’ve entered hell.

Lockers line the hallways and signs are taped to the walls. One says YES WE CAN!— VOTE FOR SUN QUAN FOR STUDENT PRESIDENT and another reads DAI TU —YOUR “GO-TU GUY” FOR STUDENT COUNCIL TREASURER! are displayed along with the rest of the signs from people who actually want to HEALTHIER STUDENT LUNCHES IS A MUST FOR AN HEALTHIER FUTUR!—VOTE FOR MINHO.

Healthier student lunches?

Hell, back in America I ate what I brought from home or whatever crap they put in front of me. There weren’t choices. Where I lived in America you ate to survive, without worrying about counting calories or carbs. That’s not to say that many people don’t live like kings in America. Like in Korea, there are definitely the rich areas . . . but my family just didn’t live in one.

I don’t belong at Seoul High, and I sure as hell don’t want to follow this girl around all week. I wonder how much the exemplary student can take before she gives up and quits.

She directs me to my locker and I shove my stuff inside. “My locker is two away from yours,” she announces, as if that’s actually a good thing. When I’m ready, she studies my schedule and walks down the hall at the same time. “Mr. Lee's class is one flight up.”

I stop when we reach a door with a male stick figure painted on it. With my thumb, I point to the door. “I'll go to the toilet.”

“Oh.” She looks a little confused, as if not exactly knowing how to handle deviations from the schedule. “Well, I guess I’ll just wait out here for you.”

Time to have a little fun by screwin’ with my peer guide. “Unless you want to come inside and show me around . . . I mean, I don’t know how far you wanna take this whole peer guide thing.”

“Not that far.” She purses her lips like she just on a sour lemon and shakes her head. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

In the bathroom, I brace my hands on the sink and take a deep breath. All I can see in the mirror above the sink is a guy whose family thinks he’s a total up.

Maybe I should have told my mum the truth: that I got fired from the mill for protecting little fifteen-year-old Sun Hwa from being harassed by one of the supervisors. It was bad enough she had to quit school and start working to help her family put food on their table.
When our boss thought he could put his filthy hands on her just because he was stronger, I saw red. Yeah, it cost me my job . . . but it was worth it and I’d do it again even if it had the same consequences.

A knock on the door brings me back to reality, and the fact that I have to be escorted to class by a girl who dresses like she’s goin’ mountain climbing. I can’t imagine a girl like Dara ever needing a guy to fight for her, because if any guy threatened her she’d probably suffocate him with her oversized tee.

The door creaks open the slightest bit. “You still in there?” Dara’s voice echoes through the bathroom.

“Yep.”

“You almost done?”

I roll my eyes. When I walk out of the bathroom a minute later and head toward the stairs, I notice my isn’t following. She’s standing in the empty hallway, that sour look still plastered on her face. “You didn’t even have to go,” she says, sounding annoyed. “You were stalling.”

“You’re a genius,” I say flatly, then take the stairs up two at a time.

Score one for Kwon Jiyong.

I hear her footsteps tapping on the floor behind me, trying to catch up. I walk down the second-floor hall, thinking of ways I can ditch her.

“Thanks for making me super late to class for no reason,” she says, hurrying up behind me.

“Don’t blame me. Wasn’t my idea to have a babysitter. And, for the record, I can find my way around just fine on my own.”

“Really?” she asks. “Because you just passed Mr. Lee’s room.”

.

One point for the exemplary student.

Score is 1–1. Thing is, I don’t like ties. I like to win . . . by big margins.

I can’t help but be annoyed at the flash of amusement in my peer guide’s eyes.

I step closer to her, really close. “Have you ever cut class?” I ask her, mischief and flirting laced in my voice. I’m trying to throw her off so I have the upper hand again.

“No,” she says slowly, looking nervous. Good.

I lean in even closer. “We should try it together sometime,” I say softly, then open the classroom door.

I hear her in a breath. Listen, I didn’t ask for a face and body girls find attractive. But thanks to the mixture of my parents’ DNA, I’ve got them, and I’m not ashamed to use ’em.

Having a face Adonis would admire is one of the few advantages I’ve been given in life, and I use it to its fullest potential whether it’s for good or evil.

Dara quickly introduces me to Mr. Lee, then just as quickly she’s out the door. I hope my flirting has scared her off for good. If not, I might have to try harder next time. I sit in math class and scan the room. All of the kids here look like they come from upper-class homes. This school is nothing like the school where I used to lived in before we moved to America. The