ONE

Without Even Trying

“For a truly beautiful body, grab each wrist with the opposite hand and lock your hands tight,” Song Ara, one of your best friends, said with a perky toss of her ponytail.  “Pay attention, Wu Hana.  If we don’t do this right, we won’t know how our bodies will turn out.  Let’s do it together.  Are you with me?  One … two … oooh!”

You, Hana, were sitting cross-legged on a blue-and-white picnic blanket with Ara and your other best friend, Jung Mina, knew that you were running out of time.  All summer, two weeks and two months, you have not grown a single millimeter beyond 167 centimeters (5’5”).  It was a sure bet that you, Wu Hana, would be the one of the tiniest juniors at Seoul Academy.  Most likely you would be even dinkier than the newbie freshmen.

Your face paled at the thought.  What if someone mistook her for a freshman?  You shook your head, shuddered, and locked your hands tightly around your wrists.  According to Ara, your only salvation rested in the seven-day miracle exercise program they had discovered only an hour before in the supermarket.

“What a deal,” Ara gushed when she spotted the palm-sized paperback nested in the wire rack above the checkout counter.  “Here, I’ll treat.  How can I resist?  This is probably the best investment we’ll ever make.  Three beautiful bodies for only a dollar ninety-nine.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Seriously Ara?  We’ve got better things to do.”

“Well, if you want to be called a freshman, then you don’t have to join us,” Ara huffed.  Your best friend had a point. 

“Hana!” Ara’s reprimand jolted you out of your daydream.  “You’re at least six grabs behind!  Come on, this one is really important!  We must…we must…improve our bust,” she chanted.

In the distance, your older brother, Kris, was playing football with some junior and senior boys, including your friend BamBam.  For the moment, neither you, Ara, nor Mina was paying much attention as they sat on their blanket and exercised in the park.  You all were too busy concentrating on your own soon-to-be-truly-beautiful bodies.

Ara stopped chanting about busts.  “Step two.  ‘Make sure your forearms are level with your shoulders’,” she read.  “‘Push and hold for a count of five.’”

“Wait a second.”  Mina sounded frantic.  “I can’t see the picture.  Turn the book around.  I might be doing this wrong.” She anchored the book with one of her long legs.

All three girls pushed while Ara counted.  “One and two and three and –”

“Kris does this all the time,” you interrupted.  “I’ve seen him do this in front of the mirror.”

“For his s?” Ara asked, losing count.

Giggling, you released your arms and rolled backwards on the blanket.  “No, silly.  For his pecs.  Guys are really hot on building their pectoral muscles.”

“Ooooh, I think I feel something.” Ara’s eyes opened wide.

“Me, too,” Mina said.  “How many times are you supposed to do this?  I don’t want to injure myself.”

You crossed your eyes and pulled your t-shirt away from her body in two empty points.  “This year the whole world is going to know me as the junior girl.”

Ara grabbed your hands.  “There’s no way anyone’s going to mistake you for a boy.  Not with those fingernails.  Just look at them.  They’re even longer than mine.”

Ara was right.  Never a fingernail freak before, for the past two months, you had cultivated your nails like a summer garden.  You used an almond cuticle conditioner.  You polished your nails with Dior Vernis Nail Lacquer and shaped them.  Of course, it was only temporary.  You’d have to file them down when you went out for tennis – a willing sacrifice.

“I’m still chewing mine,” Ara said, interrupting your thoughts.  “It’s okay.  I read somewher