Jiyong

In bio, Ms. Lau finishes a lecture on dominant and recessive genes. She has us draw square boxes and tells us to write different scenarios about eye-color traits in the offspring of humans.

“I’m havin’ a couple guys over tonight,” Ed says as we work. “You wanna come?”

Even though Ed is a rich kid, he’s pretty cool. The past week he’s given me notes from the first two weeks of school, and his stories about going skiing last winter are hilarious.

“When?” I ask him.

“Around six or so.” He rips out a piece of paper from his notebook and starts writing on it.

“Here’s my address.”

“I don’t have a car. Is it far?”

He turns the paper over and hands me his pen. “No problem, I’ll just pick you up. Where do you live?”

As I write down Seunghyun’s address, Lau Lau walks over to our table. “Jiyong, did you get all the notes from Eddie?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because there’s a test next week.” She’s handing out worksheets when five beeps echo over the loudspeaker.
The entire room seems to gasp at once.

“What’s that?” I question.

Ed looks shocked. “Holy , man. We’re in lockdown.”

“What’s ‘lockdown’?”

“If it’s some psycho with a gun, I’m jumping out the window,” another student named John says. “You guys with me?”

Ed rolls his eyes. “It’s not someone with a gun, dude. That would be three long beeps instead of five short ones. This is a drug lockdown. It must not be routine, ’cause I haven’t heard anything about it.”

John seems amused. “Call your mom, Ed. Ask if she knows what’s up.”

Drug lockdown? I sure hope Nick doesn’t bring his pu-pu platter of drugs to school with him. I look over at Sohee, who came late to class. She pulls her phone from her purse and starts texting someone underneath the lab table.

“Everyone calm down,” Ms. Lau says. “Most of you have been through this before. In case you haven’t guessed it, we’re in lockdown. No student can leave the building.”

Sohee raises her hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Sorry, Sohee.”

“But I really have to go! I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Lockdown rules state no wandering in the halls.” Ms Lau glances at her computer. “Take this time to study for the test next wednesday.”
Fifteen minutes later a cop knocks on Ms Lau’s door.

“Who do you think got busted?” a guy named Minho whispers as our teacher meets the officer outside the room.

Ed holds his hands up. “Don’t look at me, man. I’m not risking getting kicked off the soccer team. Besides, my mom would have me arrested herself if she found out I was doing illegal .”

Ms Lau walks back in the room. “Kwon Jiyong,” she says loud and clear. Damn! She called my name. “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

“Dude, you are so busted,” Frank says.

I walk up to Lau, and all I can focus on is her mustache hairs moving up and down as she says, “There are some people who want to talk to you. Follow me.”

I know everyone in my bio class knows why I’ve been called out. Thing is, I don’t have any drugs in my pockets or in my locker. Maybe they found out I came from America and want to deport me, although I was born in Korea/ Busan and am an Korean citizen.

In the hallway two cops step toward me. “Are you Kwon Jiyong?” one of them asks.

“Yeah.”

“Can you show us where your locker is?”

My locker? I shrug. “Sure.”

I walk to my locker, the police following so close I can feel their breath on the back of my neck. I turn the corner down and see a K9 police dog barking at my locker. What the hell?

The dog is ordered to sit by its handler.

Mr. Seong is standing next to my locker.

“Jiyong, is this your assigned locker?” he asks me.

“Yeah.”

He makes a dramatic pause before saying, “I’ll only ask this once. Do you have drugs in your locker?”

“No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind opening it, would you?”

“Nope.” I enter the combination and open the door.

“What are those things?” one of the cops asks as he points to Dara’s cookie magnets. He steps forward to take a closer look and the K9 dog goes nuts. He pokes one. “They’re cookies,” he says dumbly.

“I think your dog is hungry,” I tell him.

The second cop gives me a level stare. “You, be quiet. They’re probably laced with drugs and you’re selling them.”

Laced cookies? Is he kiddin’ me? They’re ing stale cookie magnets. I start to laugh.

“You think this is funny, punk?”

I clear my throat and try to keep a straight face. “No, sir.”

“Did you make those cookies?”

“Yes, sir,” I lie, because it’s none of their business who made them. “But you should probably not pull ’em off.”

“Why not? Scared we’ll find out what’s in them?”

I shake my head. “No. Trust me, they’re not laced.”

“Nice try,” the cop says.

Ignoring me, the principal tries to pick off one of the cookie magnets. The cookie breaks in his hand. I cough again, trying to cover up another laugh, as he holds the crumbled brown pieces in his hand and sniffs them. I wonder what Dara would think if she knew her cookies were under investigation.

One of the cops crumbles another cookie off and takes a small bite to see if he can taste traces of illegal substances. He shrugs. “I don’t taste anything.” He holds the rest of the cookie under the K9’s nose. The dog goes still. “The cookies are clean,” he says. “But there’s something else in the locker. Take everything out,” he orders, then crosses his arms on his chest.

From the top shelf, I take out a couple of books and place them on the floor. I take more books out from the bottom. When I pull down my backpack, the dog starts freakin’ out again.

That dog is certifiably nuts. If we watch it long enough, I’m sure its head will turn around and its eyes will roll to the back of its head.

“Take everything out of your backpack and place the items on the floor in front of you,” Seong says.

“Look,” I tell Mr. Seoung. “I have no clue why that dog is about to attack my backpack. I don’t have drugs in there. Maybe the dog’s got a disorder.”

“The dog isn’t the problem, son,” the K9 officer barks out.

My pulse races when the guy calls me “son.” I want to lash out at him, but he’s got a psycho dog he can sic on me. While I think I’m a hard-, I definitely know a trained psycho K9 can kick my .

One by one I pull out each thing from my backpack. I lay them out in a straight line.
One pencil.
Two pens.
One notebook.
One korean book.
One can of Coke.
The dog starts barking again. Wait, I didn’t put a can of Coke in there. The principal picks up the can, starts unscrewing the top and . . . oh, . It’s not a can of Coke. It’s a fake one with

.........

One bag of weed. A big bag. And 

.........

One bag with a bunch of white and blue pills inside.

“That’s not mine,” I tell them.

“Whose is it, then?” the principal asks. “Give us names.”

I’m pretty sure it’s Nick’s, but I’m not about to rat on him. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in America, it’s that you don’t open your mouth. Ever. Even if I don’t give a about Nick, I’m about to take the fall whether I like it or not. “I don’t have any names. I’ve only lived here a week, give me a break.”

“We don’t give breaks. Not on school property, which makes this a felony,” one of the officers says, eyeing my tattoos. He takes the bags from the principal, then opens the one with the pills. “This is Oxy-Contin. And this,” he says, opening the bag with the weed, “is enough for us to know you’re not just smoking it, you’re selling it.”

“Do you understand what this means, Jiyong?” the principal asks.

Yeah, I know what it means. It means Seunghyun is gonna kill me.

 
Dara 

When I found out Jiyong got arrested, I immediately had the instinct to call my dad. He said he’d call Seunghyun and find out what was happening and where Jiyong was taken.

At home, my mom greets me at the door. “Your father said he’ll be home soon with some news about Jiyong.”

“So you know what happened?”

She nods. “Seunghyun told your dad that Jiyong keeps insisting the drugs aren’t his.”

“Does Seunghyun believe him?”

My mom sighs, and I know she wants to give me better news. “He’s skeptical.”

My dad comes home with hair that looks like he ran his hand through it too many times today.

“Family-meeting time,” he says.

When the entire family is in the living room, my dad clears his throat. “How would you all feel about having Jiyong stay here for the rest of the school year?”
“Who’s Jiyong?” Sanghyun asks, clueless.

“The brother of one of my former students. And one of Dara’s friends.” My dad looks from me to my mom. “Turns out the place where he’s living is subsidized student apartments. Since Jiyong isn’t a student at the university, the judge said it’s against policy for him to stay there.”

“I get a brother? Cool!” Sanghyun yells. “Can he sleep in my room? You can buy us bunk beds and everything.”

“Don’t get too excited, Sanghyun. He’ll stay in the yellow room,” my dad tells my brother.

“How’s Jiyong holding up?” my mom asks.

“I don’t know. I think underneath it all he’s a good kid who’ll thrive in a positive and stable drug-free home environment. I’d like to help out if we’re all in agreement. It’s either our house, or he goes back to America. Seunghyun said he’d do just about anything to keep him here.”

“I’m okay with him staying here,” I say, realizing after I say it that I actually mean it. Everyone deserves a second chance.

My dad looks at my mom, who reaches out and brings his head closer to hers. “My husband is going to save the world one kid at a time, huh?”

He smiles at her. “If that’s what it takes.”

She kisses him. “I’ll make sure there are clean sheets on the bed in the guest room.”

“I married the best woman,” he tells her. “I’ll call Seunghyun and tell him it’s a go,” he adds excitedly. “Monday we’ll meet with the judge again. We’re going to lobby to get him into the REACH program at Seoul instead of being expelled.”

I watch as my dad leaves the living room and heads for his office.

“He’s on a mission,” my mom says. “He’s has that spark in his eye when he’s got a challenge in front of him.”

I just hope he keeps that spark alive, because I have a feeling my dad’s patience— which is probably at the sainthood level—is about to be tested big-time.

Jiyong

“Just send me back to America and be done with me already,” I tell Seunghyun on Sunday morning after I