Jiyong

“Do you get off on being an IDIOT?” my brother asks me when we’re in the kitchen.

“Uh . . . yeah. I had the best teacher. Right, Seunghyun?”

Since our father was murdered when I was four, Seunghyun was the oldest male in our house from the time he was six. He might be older than me, but there was nobody else to look up to but him.

My brother leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Here’s the deal: you got busted with drugs. I don’t give a if they were yours or not, you’re the one who got busted. So it up and live here without causin’ problems, or you get shipped to a youth home for delinquents with guards watchin’ your every move. Which is it?”

“Why can’t I go back to Busan? We’ve got family there. My old friends are there.”

“Not an option.” Before I can respond, Seunghyun says, “I don’t want you to get messed up with Big Bang. Besides, Yoona isn’t waiting for you, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

Yoona and I broke up the day my family packed and moved to America. She said it was no use havin’ a long-distance relationship when we might never see each other again. Truth is, if it wasn’t for Seunghyun we’d never have left Busan. And if we never left Busan, Yoona and I would have stayed together and I wouldn’t be stuck livin’ in a room with damn yellow polkadotted curtains.

I expect everyone in my life to leave me at some point. Since Yoona, I haven’t allowed myself to get emotionally involved with anyone. If I let myself care about someone, they’ll leave me, push me away, or die. That’s the way it’s been, and will always be.

“I’ll stay here for now, but one day soon I’m gonna get back to Busan, with or without your help. Just go back to your apartment and stay out of my life.” I push past my brother and storm up to my room, slamming the door behind me. But the yellow comforter is a reminder this is not my room. !

I’m glad Seunghyun didn’t follow me. I need to be alone and sort out what happened on Friday. Who put the drugs in my locker? Was it Nick? Sohee, who came to bio late? Or was it a sign from the 동네의 전사 (Warriors of the neighborhood) that no matter where I go they’re never far behind?

Eyeing my duffel on the ground, I open it and put my clothes away. Actually I toss them in the drawers, not bothering to hang ’em up. I don’t wear clothes that have to be hung up, anyway. I take out my toothbrush and shaver and head to the bathroom across the hall.

Assuming the sink with the step stool is Sanghyun’s, I decide to share with him. The last thing I need is to be opening a drawer only to find tampons, makeup, or other female crap.

I stick my shaver and toothbrush in an empty drawer, the one without the cartoon-character bubble bath in it. In between the sinks, taped to the big mirror in front of them, is a small piece of paper.

WEEKDAY MORNING SHOWER TIMES

Monday, Wednesday, Friday: Dara 6:25–6:35

Monday, Wednesday, Friday: Jiyong 6:40–6:50

Tuesday, Thursday: Dara 6:40–6:50

Tuesday, Thursday: Jiyong 6:25–6:35

When should I break the news to Dara that nobody is going to tell me how long my showers are? I’ve been known to take hour-long showers when I’m hot, sweaty, and pissed off. Like right about now.

As if it wasn’t bad enough I got busted for somethin’ I didn’t do, now I have to share a house with a bunch of strangers who make salad out of Kimchi and nuts.

I head back to my room, but when I see Dara’s door cracked open I get curious. Knowing she’s still eating lunch, I wander inside. Her desk is piled with books and loose papers.

There’s a corkboard above her desk with different sayings that belong in a self-help manual:

Don’t be afraid to be unique Love yourself before you love another Give me a ing break.

Does she read that crap before she gets off?

A few pictures of Dara and that guy she sits with in the lunchroom every day are pinned to the board. One shows the two of them hiking or something on a mountain, and the other is of the two of them on snowboards. In the pictures, Dara is laughing.

I pick up one of the notebooks on her desk and flip through the pages. I stop when I see RULES OF ATTRACTION written on top of one of the pages. My eyes immediately focus on the words “perky privates” listed under Dara’s traits. I laugh, then scan the next column . . . she’s lookin’ for a dude who is confident, nice, can fix cars, and likes sports. Who the hell actually writes this stuff down? I’m surprised she didn’t write I’m looking for a guy to rub my feet and kiss my . On the next pages are pencil drawings of her car. I hear the bedroom door squeak. Oh, crap. I’m not alone.

Dara is standing in the doorway in shock. Behind her is the guy from the pictures. Dara looks stunned to find me in her room, my paws on her notebook.

“I needed paper,” I say, keeping a casual tone as I drop the notebook on her desk.

The guy steps forward. “Yo, yo, wassup homie!” he says.

I wonder what Professor Park would say if I kicked Dara’s boyfriend’s on my first day here. He never said one of the rules was not getting into fights.

I narrow my eyes at the guy and step forward.

Dara quickly rummages through her desk and pulls out another notebook. She pushes it into my hand. “Here,” she says, alarm laced in her voice.

I look down at the notebook I didn’t need, annoyed that I’m feeling like a fish stuck in a bowl of water and a stone.

I murmur a “Catch you later . . . homie,” and head back to the canary yellow room I am officially dubbing infierno, hell.

Looking out the window, I gauge how far it is to the ground so I can escape every once in a while and get a small taste of freedom. One day I might just escape and never look back.

“Jiyong, can I come in?” I hear Bom’s voice say through the bedroom door.

When I open the door, I find my brother’s girlfriend alone. “If you’re gonna lecture me, save your breath,” I tell her.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” she says, her bright brown eyes shining with compassion. She weasels her way past me and enters the room. “And although I’m sure your friends back home might appreciate details of your ual prowess, bragging about it in front of a six-year-old and his parents probably isn’t the best idea.”

I hold my hand up, stopping her from continuing. “Before you go on, I gotta be honest and say that sounds suspiciously like a lecture to me.”

She laughs. “You’re right. Sorry about that. Truth is, I came up here to give you the cell phone. I know you and Seunghyun are like oil and water sometimes, so I’m here if you want to talk to someone a little less hardheaded. I programmed both our numbers into the contacts list.” She places the phone on the desk.

Oh, no. I feel her trying to get close to me like the sister I never had, but it ain’t happenin’. I don’t get close, so I decide to go for the route. It actually comes naturally to me; it’s not even an act anymore. “You flirtin’ with me? I thought you were datin’ my brother.

Honestly, Bom, I don’t date rich-babes. Especially ones with brown-red hair and skin the color of Elmer’s Glue. Did’ja ever hear of a tannin’ salon?”

Okay, the Elmer’s Glue comment was a little over-the-top. Bom has a golden glow to her skin, but insulting her will push her away. I’ve done it with mom. And Seungri. And Seunghyun. It never fails.

I make a big show of opening the desk drawer and dumping the phone inside.

“You’re going to want that one day,” she says. “I have no doubt you’ll call me.”

I give a short laugh. “You have no clue who I am o