15

Fifteen is a nice number, Irene thinks, humming a random tune while arranging her stationery on the desk. Five pens, four pencils, two erasers, a ruler, a compass, a highlighter and, because fourteen doesn’t sit well with her compulsive nature, she included the tiny piece of chalk, which was the source of all the white powder in her case.
 

As she empties the bits of eraser dust and broken pencil leads into the dustbin beneath her desk, she can’t help but to notice the cloudless blue sky outside her window. It’s a rare sight, and Irene feels it would be such a waste to stay indoors all day.
 

Until she’s reminded of the fact that she would have the room to herself for the whole day.
 

“The girls are going out again. Wanna join us?” asked Seulgi earlier.
 

“Nope,” was Irene’s reply.
 

“Oh come on, Rene!” Seulgi shook her head, tugging on Irene’s arm but the girl would not budge, “I know I said I will never bring you to another party but don’t tell me you’re still not over that party!”
 

“I am over it,” Irene muttered, pulling her hand free while trying to concentrate on her book.
 

She’s been over it for a long time already. In fact, she almost forgotten the whole ordeal if Seulgi had not brought it up.
 

“It’s not here in the dorms anyway. It’s at a club downtown!”
 

Irene raised an eyebrow at her roommate, “All the more reason why I don’t want to go.”
 

A club? Irene hardly seen anything of the city, let alone gone to a club, even though she’s been here for close to three months now. She has a higher chance of getting lost than having fun, considering her terrible sense of direction. The endlessly tall skyscrapers surrounding her and the stream of heavy traffic are more daunting than the rows of trees she was more used to back in the countryside. Sometimes, she missed the greenery back home, with cattle grazing in the fields under the bright blue sky and the familiar morning call of the rooster…
 

Now, all she hears are the incessant honking of the cars in the morning rush hour.
 

Unfortunately, Irene is still not accustomed to the sight of all things grey outside her window – grey buildings, grey tarmac and, when Mother Nature feels like it, grey skies. The view isn’t one Irene hardly thinks qualified as motivating or refreshing when one is in need of a break. It just makes everything seem more dreary and dull than usual.
 

In any case, she has a quiz coming up on Monday. She needs to revise her notes. “I’m sorry, Seul, but you have to go on your own.”
 

“It’s Saturday and you don’t want to go out? You’re no fun!” Seulgi biffs Irene on the shoulder before heading to her side of the room. Irene knows the girl said that more out of jest than in seriousness but it still holds a grain of truth.
 

Irene’s idea of fun is listening to the classical pieces of Beethoven playing from her ancient laptop and reading a book on quantum physics until she’s sleepy. Or if she is feeling particularly daring, she might listen to the radio and hum along to the Top 40 songs of the week. She’s proud when somebody in class mentions some viral hit (I’m all about that bass / bout that bass / NO TREBLE) and she knew what song they were referring to.
 

Not that Irene understands why people like songs about butts, partying and getting all wasted – with really racy videos to accompany the music. She remembers the first time she watched this Nicki Minaj video (Seulgi showed her) and it was a traumatic experience worse than that time she saw her father slaughter a chicken. Irene had to listen to Mozart for hours just to clear the images from her mind.
 

It was then, when Irene decided to just stick to the music and avoid the videos at all cost.
 

A few hours after Seulgi left, Irene had settled down comfortably at her desk and was reading up on a few articles online, the radio playing at a considerable volume in the background. She was setting aside her now clean pencil case when her phone rang.
 

Now, this is an uncommon phenomenon since nobody ever calls Irene, except for her family and Seulgi. Considering her lack of social life, it was expected. Irene’s first thought was that she was in deep trouble.
 

Irene inhales deeply through her nose, trying to calm herself. At last, the prank has become old news, quickly fading into obscurity as people shift their attention to the new things that have gone viral. She feels mostly relief at this change and thankful, for she can walk down the hallways without expecting a security guard to pop out of nowhere and whisk her away to the headmaster's office.
 

Sort of. Irene still gets the jitters whenever her phone rings and she half-expects the harbinger of death to inform her of impending doom.
 

She fumbles with the phone and breathes easier when she recognises the number. Clearing , she answers, “Hello?”
 

"Joohyun-ah! My daughter, how are you?" her mother's cheerful voice streams into her ear.
 

"Umma! I'm doing fine, umma. I was going to call you later." She automatically slips into the comfortable dialect of her hometown.
 

"Is that so? I hope I didn't interrupt anything!"
 

Irene resumes scrolling on her laptop, “No you didn't. I’m just researching stuff. Nothing important.”
 

"Ah good timing then! How is everything so far?"
 

This whole place is mad. And there’s a mad girl who wants to be my friend. Everything is –"Good. Everything’s good here. School is great. I’ll email you my grades later."
 

"I'm relieved! You know, when you decided to go all the way to the north for school, we were very worried. Are you eating well? How is your roommate treating you?"
 

Irene holds back a sigh as her mother begins to fuss. She spends the next few minutes informing her mother of her well-being when she hears a knock on the door. Confused, Irene gets up to open the door, still listening to her mother’s chatter.
 

Irene’s jaw unhinges itself when she sees who it is. Speak of the devil and she shall appear.
 

Wendy is right outside her room. Her eyebrows lifts and her lips curl into a devilish smirk as she greets, “Hola, new friend.”
 

"I'll send you pictures of the new chickens appa got. Really fine-looking! The place is still doing well and we are wondering whether you'll come back for a short while during your break...” her mother continues to ramble on but Irene is no longer listening
 

She gulps, completely flabbergasted. Very much aware of the person on the other end of the line, Irene moves her phone an arm’s length from her and whispers, “What are you doing here?”
 

Also, how did Wendy even find her room? Suddenly, Irene feels very unsafe in Wendy’s presence, like the girl somehow teleported right to where she was the instant the she thinks of her.
 

Wendy seems bemused, “Why? Did I interrupt a party with your imaginary friends?”
 

“Joohyun? Are you still there?”
 

Irene finally focuses back on her phone, "Umma! Yes, I’m still here." Wendy’s expression shift into something resembling a cross between amusement and surprise, presumably upon hearing Irene's accent. "I’m sorry, I have some things to do but – uh, I’ll get back to you about coming home over the holidays. Tell appa I say hi! I love you both."
 

When she hangs up, Wendy remarks, "You have a really cute accent."
 

What is she supposed to say to that? Irene hesitates before dropping her accent, “Um...thank you?”
 

"You're from the countryside?"
 

"Daegu," mumbles Irene, subtlety smoothening down her hair. She feels self-conscious about her appearance all of a sudden. The fact that Wendy always looks flawless in any outfit - simple orange shirt and black shorts today - has put her self-esteem at an all-time low. Irene glances mournfully at her usual sweater and pants combination.
 

"Cool," says Wendy with the usual quirk of her lips, "Say, are you heading anywhere today?"
 

“No..?”
 

“Great!” Wendy claps her hands excitedly, “Let’s hang out then!”
 

“W-wait,” Irene stammers, brows furrowing with suspicion, “How did you find my room?”
 

“It wasn’t hard,” Wendy shrugs, “Just a little digging in the admin office.” She frowns, glancing behind Irene, “By the way, are you listening to Justin Bieber?”
 

Irene panics and nudges Wendy back, “Don’t come in!”
 

They stand in the middle of the hallway as Irene shuts her room door before leaning against it. Wendy grins at Irene’s flushed face, “It’s fine if you’re a fan of him. Though - no offense really – I can’t stand him and his music.”
 

Irene shakes her head, “No I’m not a fan, I’m just listening –” to the latest music so that I’m not as dumb as my classmates think I turn out to be. But Irene doesn’t say that. Mostly she doesn’t want Wendy in her room since the girl is – for all their misadventures and secrets divulged over the past two weeks – still more of a stranger than a friend and Irene treasures her privacy a lot.
 

Even though Wendy had already intruded Irene’s personal space many, many times.
 

But she’s also a teensy-weensy suspicious of Wendy and her intentions, “Seriously. What are you doing here?”
 

“I’m here to judge you based on the music you listen to,” Wendy rolls her eyes, “Did you not hear me? I want us to hang out.”
 

The only hanging out Irene did was of the laundry kind back home but she’s certain that washing clothes isn’t on Wendy’s agenda for the day, “W-why?”
 

“Why? A certain someone had agreed to be my friend but now it seems she has short-term memory loss though it has been –” Wendy checks her watch, “Two days since we last met! And also, I forgot to get your number but since it’s the weekend, I thought I drop by and give you a heart attack.”
 

Two days. Had it been that fast? Or long? Irene barely noticed. She does, however, realised that she cannot seem to get any thoughts of Wendy out of her mind during those forty-eight hours. It is infuriating. The girl was like drops of colouring, clinging to the frayed edges of her consciousness as it seeps through the threads and permanently dyes itself into the complex ball of yarn that is her mind.
 

Like a stain on a white shirt that stubbornly refuses to disappear no matter how many times the shirt is washed.
 

“Earth to Baechu?” Wendy waves, “So? What’s the verdict? Are you going to blast the Biebster in your room all day or allow me to introduce to you some better music?”
 

Sigh. For all the resolve Irene could muster, she can’t seem to find the heart to say no to this girl.
 

This is madness.

But first, Wendy insists on lunch. “Wouldn’t want your stomach creating any embarrassing moments, do we?” Wendy chortled as she drove through the city.
 

Irene makes a note to stop looking like a tomato in the girl’s presence.
 

Wendy also plugged in her iPhone and played some music in the car, something she had not done the previous time. Irene honestly had no idea who was singing or what the title even was. The music major had a rather eccentric taste and Irene constantly jumped in her seat when drums randomly blasted through the speakers. Wendy braked too suddenly when Irene informed her that she was absolutely clueless.
 

“Really? You just listened to the radio for your music fix?”
 

“What’s wrong with that? The songs are good.”
 

“Good?!” Wendy grimaced and shuddered, “You need an education on how to define good music.”
 

Irene admitted that she usually listened to classical pieces and they were her first choice. She, however, did not admit the real reason she listened to the radio. Instead, Irene only said that she was curious.
 

And so Wendy took it upon herself to introduce the songs that were playing through the speakers. She never once referred to her phone and Irene got the impression that Wendy really did know her music well. When they reached their destination, Irene’s head was swarming with titles and all sorts of weird band names (Bad Suns, Kodaline, OneRepublic, Foals... to name a few.)
 

As they wait for their food, Wendy starts to ask Irene questions.
 

“So,” Wendy begins, “What’s your story, morning glory?”
 

Irene tilts her head, “Story? I don’t have one?”
 

“What do you mean? Everyone’s gotta have one. Like,” she gestures to the view outside, “How did a country bumpkin like you ended up in the bustling city?”
 

“I like the course,” answers Irene after a moment, “And I heard the school is good. It’s good, right?”
 

“Yeah it is,” Wendy assures her, “What’s the countryside like?”
 

“You’ve never been there?” The girl shakes her head and Irene hums, thinking hard, “There are more trees.”
 

Wendy laughs and Irene breaks into a shy smile. She continues, “My family owns a farm. So usually I help out every morning.”
 

“A farm? Like legit cows and chickens running around?”
 

“I wouldn’t say the cows run or Appa would have a field day. Literally,” Irene tries not to laugh at mental image of her father chasing after cows and quickly composes herself, “But yes, a farm.”
 

“That is so cool!” Wendy’s face lights up with barely-concealed excitement, “So do you like, collect chicken eggs? Oh and milk the cows?”
 

She seem so genuinely interested and Irene is taken aback by the girl's enthusiasm. Slightly encouraged by Wendy's response, she spends the next few minutes chatting about her life back in Daegu. As she rattles on about the different livestock in the farm, Irene feels a certain ache in her heart, a certain longing to go back home. It's a relief then, when the waitress arrives with their food, putting their conversation to a halt.
 

"Let's dig in!" Wendy chirps happily, attacking her chicken with much gusto. Irene tries not to gag at the sight of chicken and musters the same level of enthusiasm for her fish.
 

"I don't understand though," Wendy speaks again, brows furrowing close together, "How could you be so interested in science? Farmer's daughter and all."
 

Irene dips her fish into the tartar sauce before taking a bite. It’s really good and while she chews and swallows, she also manages to remember to answer Wendy's question, "I don'