“So, girls, my parents are out of town next week, and since we’re all for tradition, how does rading the basement liquor cabinet sound?” Hyuna leaned over closer to the sink mirror, touching up the berry black lipstick on her pouty lower lip.   Huh.  Some news first thing in the morning.  

    I turned off the tap before wiping my hands on a paper towel, smiling in approval.  I turned to Hara and Dasom.  “Your call.” 

    They looked a little taken aback at first.  I saw it coming.  This was one of those rare times I let the reigns a little loose, letting them tie in their say.  What can I say? I was in a good mood.  

    “Obvi,” she said, without skipping a beat. Dasom tugged on her BCBG shirtdress, taking out the creases where her belt cinched at the waist.  “But I need a ride and I have to sleep over.” 

    Hyuna and I laughed in unison.  “Just incase you get hammered.” 

    “Ha ha, really funny, H,” Dasom rolled her eyes a little, whipping out her phone to open up Instagram.  “So? Am I covered or what?” 

    “Done, done, and done,” I cut in.  “I’ll give you a ride there.” 

    “Hara? What ‘bout you?” Hyuna her heels, puttin one palm on the edge of the porcelain sink.  

    “Hmm… I don’t know, sounds sort of sketch,” she replied, avoiding eye contact.  She stepped back on the soles of her feet before rocking back and forth, honing anxiety like it was some sort of latest ‘it’ item, fresh off the pages of Harper’s Bazaar.  

    If there was one thing I learned during the five years since I befriended Goo Hara, it was her habits.  Good, and bad.  Goo Hara was the girl that got up every morning to do pilates while memorizing SAT words.  Goo Hara was the girl that hated potatoe chips, but loved fries.  Goo Hara was the girl who was either tweeting, taking Snapchats, or gossiping during the day.  Above all, Goo Hara was reminiscent to an open book, or a glass shard ; transparent, and too easy to read.  She couldn’t hide anything.  If there was something going on, it was written all over her face.  

    It surprised me, though. That out of my group of friends, I was the only one that could tell.  Maybe I was just good at reading people.  Maybe it’s just my calling to catch on to certain things.  

    That’s probably why I knew most of the girls’ secrets.  Most of them.  

    I narrowed my eyes at her.  There was definitely something up with her.  The other girls were pretty much oblivious.  Hyuna scoffed.  “Whaddayamean?”

    “Yeah… hitting up your parents’ booze stock is in no way risky,” Hara replied sarcastically.

    The four of us walked out, greeting the passing teachers with phony, chagrined smiles and blantly ignoring the students that walked by the sidelines, or stood by the lockers.  

    “Come on, we have a lecture to get to,” Hyuna said, linking her arm through mine and leaving the girls without even saying bye.   

    “Heels!” I reminded, nudging Hyuna, who didn’t let go of her grip, or slow down her pace.  

    “Come on, give it a break, aren’t you wearing slingbacks right now?” 

    “Yeah, but they’re Gucci!” 

                        ~

“I got a C on my paper?” Hyuna slammed her Macbook shut.  

    My eyes scanned the row of A’s on the computer screen, which was projecting our weekly progress in Humanities.  “You’re toast.” 

    “No , Sherlock.” 

    “How’d you do?” Woohyun asked, nudging my arm slightly.  

    “Straight A’s,” I replied bluntly, trying not to gloat.  Hoya, sitting by Woohyun let out a whistle, lacing his fingers behind his head while leaning back into his seat.  

    Hyuna let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her arms over the edge of her desk.  “Please.  When was the last time Regal Queen dragged down her average in this class?” 

    “True,” Woohyun said, nodding a little.  “But I still thought I did well on the CRT.” 

    “But you didn’t,” Hyuna teased, poking her catty acrylic nails into her cheekbone.  “And I need a tutor.” 

    “I think I make the cut, I’m a pretty good teacher,” Woohyun said with a wink.  

    “Uhm, ew,” I faux-retched, tugging on the neckline of my cashmere scoop-neck shirt.    

    “What?” 

    “You mean a good teacher in bed,” Hoya said, earning a collective laugh from Hyuna and some of the girls behind us fonding over Woohyun.  Hyuna pointedly shot a look at the eavesdroppers, who averted their gazes to the ground, feigning ignorance.  

    Habitually, I made a quarter-turn in my seat to where Myungsoo was sitting in the back, with his head on the desk and headphones in his ears.  His tall friend Sungyeol sat by him, and next to him was Sungjong, the only junior in our humanities class, who, as far as I knew, was the only guy that read Cosmo and US Weekly magazine.  

    Sometimes I wondered why a guy like Myungsoo hung out with guys like them, but at the same time, never really cared who he hung out with, or who he