Warning: long, sort of, chapter ahead! i'm sorry

Our government exam is on Tuesday afternoon, so I know I'll see Kyungsoo at school. Basically, we haven't been alone together, so my plan is working. We haven't talked about my declaration or about the magazine. And that's okay with me.

          I'm putting my notebook and my phone in my locker--we can't have anything in the exam room but pencils and a water bottle--when Kyungsoo plops down on the floor of my feet.

          He leans back against the locker and says, "I'm starving."

          "Hey."

          "You hungry?" he asks, and opens a plastic bag from the grocery store.

          "Yeah," I say. Stupidly, the cafetaria is closed during exam week, and I forgot about it. So I didn't have lunch.

          Kyungsoo pulls out package of tortilla shells and another of sliced cheese. He's beginning to look like a godsend in a gay mechanic's shirt. He spreads the plastic bag on the floor and puts his loot on top of it. He adds a bottle of orange soda, an apple, and a can of chiles.

          I sit cross-legged on the floor, facing him.

          He folds a piece of cheese into a tortilla and takes a bite.

          I help myself to one, then ask about the can of chiles. "How are you gonna get that open?"

          "Pocket knife," he mumbles through the food in his mouth.

          "A knife? In school? Are you crazy?"

          He is. He shifts and pulls a Swiss Army knife from his pocket.

          I look up and down the partially empty hall.

          "They aren't gonna do anything," he tells me. "It's the last exam."

          I give him a look. He might not have been in Principal Baek's office five times in the last tow weeks, but I have.

          "And, if they do, they'll have to find someone else to speak at graduation." He opens a little hook-shaped device from the knife and begins wiggling it around the rim of the can.

          I watch in wonder. I'd never seen a can opened without a can opener. "I didn't know you were a Boy Scout."

          He peels the lid back and fishes a pepper out with his finers. He makes another taco.

          Then something he said sinks in. "Wait, you're really speaking at graduation?" I ask.

          "Salutatorian."

          "What are you gonna say?"

          "Thanks, everyone, for slacking off this year and making me do this crappy job."

          "Huh?"

          "I have no idea how I ended up second in the class," he says. "Last semester I wasn't even in the running. I mean, I'm in government with you."

          "Um, thanks?"

          "It's not AP," he explains. "You have to take all AP classes to get a perfect GPA."

          I nod. I had only AP calc, and it threatened to bring my grades down, not up.

          "So a bunch of people must have screwed up last semester, or I'd never be where I am--not with a regular class." He takes a swig of soda and hands me the bottle.

          "Last semester?" I take a drink. "That was when the flu hit during exam week."

          Kyungsoo slaps his knee. "You're right! Everyone was sick."

          "I was."

          "So I owe my class rank to the flu?" Kyungsoo says. "Nice."

          "Does NamJoo know?" I ask. Because she's gonna know. At graduation.

          "I sure as hell didn't tell her. It's not like I'm going to SNU or something," he says.

          There's a sarcastic tone in his voice, and I know he's kidding. But I can't help thinking. Why not? If you're so smart, why not?

          "I know what you're thinkin," Kyungsoo says, pulling another dripping chile from the can and adding it to his third taco.

          I play dumb.

          "I want to go to a normal school, not some hoity-toity high class school. Not for undergrad."

          That's right. He's going to grad school.

          "Besides," he says with a gooey, cheesy grin. "This way we get to go to college together."

          I smile back, my chest as light as a helium balloon.

          Then, like a pin to my solar plexus, Kyungsoo asks, "You sell a lot of magazines?"

          I deflate, then mumble. "More than last year."

          "It was the graphic short, wasn't it?"

          I shrug and take a bite of taco shell and cheese.

          "Jongin?"

          My teeth clamp down on the inside of my cheek. I yelp in surprise.

          "You okay?" he asks. 

          I nod and cradle my face.

          "It was good," Kyungsoo says.

          My mind whirs, trying to catch his meaning.

          "Seulgi's story?" he prompts.

          "Not stellar," I say, trying to throw him off my tracks. "Maybe a little lacking, plot wise."

          He looks confused. "You got a week of detention for something yo didn't even like?"

          Damn it, he's persistent. I try another tactic. "Seulgi worked really hard on it, and I didn't want to let her down.

          His eyes catch mine, hot-fudge pools that seem to say, Talk to me.

          "She's a little weird," I say about Seulgi because I can't talk about myself. "But we're sort of friends-she's in my art class-and I sort of asked her to draw me a story-told her I'd get it in--"

          "Jongin," Kyungsoo gently interrupts my babbling. "You're sort-of friends with everyone."

          "But I didn't know what the comic was about until after I promised," I say.

          "Yeah?" It sounds like a question.

          "Yeah," I scoff, because that is the truth, the very last shred of it, but the truth nonetheless.

          He smiles sadly and shakes his head.

          He knows I'm lying about not liking it.

          Kyungsoo stops pushing. "I wouldn'