Dara

So it’s no secret what Jiyong wears to bed. His boxers. That’s it. I had to look away when I was upstairs in the hallway, because I was staring. He’s got more tattoos than the ones on his forearms. He’s got a small one on his chest in the shape of a dragonball, and when my gaze dropped I caught a glimpse of letters in red and black peeking out of his briefs. While I’m fascinated to know what they all mean and why he got them, there’s no way I’m going to ask.

My mom left over an hour ago to open her store. It’s my turn to make breakfast for everyone. My dad is wolfing down the eggs and toast I just set on his plate. I know he’s expecting Seunghyun in a few minutes and is probably going through the speech he and Seunghyuhn are going to give Jiyong this morning.

I definitely don’t want to be here for that talk, and am kind of feeling guilty for challenging Jiyong last night. The last thing he needs right now is another person he thinks is against him.

“Dad,” I say as I sit down next to him at the breakfast counter. “What are you going to tell him?”

“The truth. That after the judge confirms temporary custody, I hope they’ll let him register for the REACH program instead of serving time.”

“He’s not going to like it.”

“He doesn’t have a choice.” My dad pats me on the hand. “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Because deep down I suspect he wants to clean up his life, and the judge wants to keep kids in school. To be honest, I’m not sure Jiyong even knows how much he wants to succeed yet.”

“He’s kind of a jerk.”

“It’s a cover-up for something deeper. I know he’s definitely going to be a challenge.” He his head to the side and gives me a thoughtful look. “You sure you’re okay with him staying here?”

I think of myself in his situation and wonder if anyone would try to help me. Isn’t that why we’re put on this earth to begin with, to make it a better place? It’s not a religious quest; it’s a humanitarian one.

If Jiyong can’t stay here, who knows where he’ll end up. “I’m totally fine with him here,” I say. “Really.” My dad, with his psychology background and infinite patience, will be able to help Jiyong. And my mom . . . well, if you can see past her quirks, she’s great.

“Sanghyun, where’s Jiyong?” my dad asks when my brother comes bouncing down the stairs.

“I don’t know. I think he was in the shower.”

“All right. Well, get some breakfast in you. Your bus’ll be here in ten minutes.”

When we hear the upstairs water turn off, indicating Jiyong is out of the shower, it’s my dad’s cue. “Sanghyun, get your backpack. The bus will be here any second.”

As my dad urges him out of the house to catch the bus, I scramble a couple of eggs for Jiyong. I hear him coming down the stairs before I see him. He’s wearing dark blue jeans ripped in the knees, and a black T-shirt that looks overworn and overwashed . . . but I can just imagine is totally soft and comfortable.

“Here,” I mumble, placing the eggs and toast neatly on the table with a glass of freshsqueezed juice.

“Thanks.” He sits down slowly, obviously surprised I made him breakfast.

As he eats, I load the dishwasher and busy myself with taking out the lunches my mom packed for us. When my dad comes back a few minutes later, he’s accompanied by Seunghyun.

“Mornin’, brother,” Seunghyun says as he sits beside Jiyong. “Ready for court?”

“No.” I grab my car keys and backpack, so they can be alone. As I drive to school, I wonder if maybe I should have stayed as a buffer. Because three guys together, especially if two are very strong-willed Kwon brothers, might be a dangerous mix. Especially when one of them is about to be forced to enroll in an after-school program for delinquents. I guarantee when they tell him, Jiyong will go ballistic.

My poor father doesn’t stand a chance.

Jiyong

“So what’re you doin’ here?” I ask my brother again. I look at Park, a cup of coffee in his hand. Something is definitely up.

“Seunghyun wanted to be here when we discuss what will happen today. We’re going to ask the judge to release you into my custody in exchange for your cooperation and participation in a special after-school program.”

I look at my food, half uneaten, and toss my fork down. “I thought we were just goin’ to court and I was goin’ to be released into your custody. Now I feel like I’m at a firin’ range about to be blindfolded and given my last cigarette.”

“It’s not really a big deal,” Top says. “It’s called REACH.” Park sits across from me. “It’s a special program for at-risk teens.”

I look to Seunghyun an he clears his throat. “It’s for kids who’ve been in trouble with the law, Jiyong. You’ll go there right after school. Every day,” he adds.
Are they kiddin’ me? “I told you the drugs weren’t mine.”

Park puts his mug down on the table. “Then tell me who the drugs belong to.”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Not good enough,” Park says.

“It’s a code of silence,” Seunghyun says.

Park doesn’t understand. “A code of silence?”

Top looks up. “I know a member of the (Warriors of the neighborhood),” he says. “A code of silence protects all members. He won’t talk, even if he knows who was responsible.”

Park sighs. “A code of silence doesn’t help your brother any, but I get it. I don’t want to get it, but I do. And that leaves us no choice but to ask the judge to let Jiyong enter the REACH program. It’s a good program, Ji, and it beats getting kicked out of school or stuck in juvenile detention. You’ll get your high school diploma and be able to apply to colleges.”

“I’m not goin’ to college.”

“Then what are you going to do after high school?” Park asks. “And don’t tell me deal drugs, ’cause that’s a cop out.”

“What do you know, Park? It’s easy for you to sit here in your bigass house and eat your organic ty food. When you’ve walked a day in my shoes, you can lecture me. Until then, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Mom wants us to have a better life than she did,” Seunghyun says. “Do it for her.”

“whatever,” I say as I put my dishes in the sink. I’ve definitely lost my appetite. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Park picks up his briefcase and breathes a sigh of relief. “You ready, boys?”

I close my eyes and rub my palms over them. I guess it’s wishful thinking that I’d open them and magically be in Busan. “You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”

A half smile crosses his face. “Not really. And you’re right, I haven’t walked in your shoes. But you haven’t walked in mine, either.”

“Come on, Professor. I’d bet my left nut the biggest problem you’ve faced is decidin’ on what book you will read tonight.”

“I wouldn’t make that bet if I were you,” he says as we walk out of the house.

When we reach his car, or what I think is his car, I step back. “What is this?”

“A Smart Car.”

It looks like an SUV took a dump and out came the Smart Car. I wouldn’t be surprised if Park had said it was one of those toy cars that kids drive around.

“It’s fuel-efficient. My wife drives the SUV, and since I’m just driving to work and back, this was a perfect choice. If you want to drive it, you can.”

“Or you could come in my car,” Seunghyun says.

“No thanks,” I say as I open the door to the Smart Car and climb into the little passenger seat.

It doesn’t seem as tiny on the inside, but I still feel like I’m in a miniature spaceship. It takes less than an hour for the judge to grant the Professor temporary guardianship and approve my participation in REACH instead of my being sentenced to either juvie or community service. Top leaves because he’s got a test, so it’s up to my new guardian to register me at REACH and then drive me to school. REACH is held in a brown brick building a few blocks from the high school. After waiting in the lobby, we’re brought into the director’s office.

A big, tall guy who probably weighs close to three hundred pounds greets us. “I’m Lee Kyuhyun, the director here at REACH. And you must be Jiyong.” He flips through a file and says, “Tell me why you’re here.”

“Judge’s orders,” I tell him.

“It says here in my file you got arrested last Friday for school drug possession.” He looks up. “That’s a serious offense.”

Only ’cause I got caught. The problem is, I’m from America with gang affiliations. There’s no way this guy is gonna believe I was framed. I’m sure he’s heard “I didn’t do it” from most of the kids here. I’ll find out who framed me . . . and in the end I’ll get revenge.

For the next half hour, Mr. Lee recites The Lecture. To sum it up, it’s about me having control of my destiny and future. This is my last chance. If I want to succeed, the REACH program will help give me the tools to “REACH my potential,” yadda yadda. When I graduate the program, the career counselors are dedicated to helping every REACH graduate secure either a job or entrance to a school of higher education. I have to stop myself from pretending to snore a couple of times, and I wonder how Park can sit here and listen to Mr. Lee’s bull with a straight face.

“And just so you’re aware,” Mr. Lee says as he pulls out a student handbook and goes through each page, “we’ll be doing random drug tests on all REACH students throughout the year. If we find an illegal substance in your system or on your person at any time, your guardian will be notified and you’ll be kicked out of REACH and expelled from school. Permanently. Most teens end up locked up for any violations.”

Lee hands both Park and me a copy of the REACH rules. Then he folds his hands on his big belly and smiles, but that smile doesn’t fool me. He’s a hard- who takes no prisoners. “Any questions?” he asks, his voice even . . . but I have no doubt that voice can bellow commands louder than any drill sergeant.

The Professor looks to me, then says, “I think we’re good.”

“Great. Then we have one more piece of business before you can go back to school.” He slides a piece of paper toward us. “This is a responsibility contract stating that I’ve gone through the REACH rules, that you understand them, and you agree to abide by them.”

Leaning forward, I notice three signature lines. One for me, one for a parent or guardian, and one for a REACH staff member. The paper reads:

I, __________