My mom puts an arm around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder as we walk to our own vehicle. My grandmother and Dad are walking in front of us.

          "That was one helluva way to come out," Mom says, and I know she saw us.

          "Mom!" I scold.

          "The magazine was pretty good, but phew, that kiss was better!"

          "Mom!!" My face warms with embarassment.

          She gives me a squeeze. "I'm so proud of you."

          We're quiet for a moment, and it occurs to me that maybe Mom hasn't seen Jieun's drawing--maybe the picture was only in some of the programs--maybe she doesn't know that our coming out wasn't exactly our idea.

          "Kyungsoo, though...," Mom says. "That surprised me."

          "Me too," I agree. "But these girls in our class, they seemed to know."

          "Really?" she asks.

          I pull my program from my shirt pocket, unfold it, and hand it to my mother.

          She's confused.

          "In the middle," I say.

          She pulls the wrinkled pages open, squints in concentration at the drawing. Then she covers with one hand, but I can tell her lips are an O of surprise. "These girls, they did this?" she asks. But she doesn't wait for me to answer. "Oh, Jongin! Honey."

        I practically catch her as she falls onto me--her arms open and eyes welling with tears. "Baby," she says, the word--fortunately--muffled by my shoulder.

          "Soeun-ah?" Dad says her name, ducking back out of the car.

          "I should've had you transferred," Mom mumbles through tears. "I knew that school was trouble. Knew it all along."

          Dad gives me a what's-she-talking-about? look.

          "It's okay, Mom," I say. "We're okay."

          She pulls away and looks up to me. "But the school, they should-- They should--"

          I shake my head. "School's over. It doesn't matter."

          "But--"

          "Kyungsoo and I are fine," I repeat for her sake, but deep down I get the feeling that I'm lying. "We're fine."

          And all through dinner--my grandmother has made real food--I keep thinking about the stone-cold look on Mr. Do's face.

After dinner my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Jieun. I don't answer.

          A text comes in:

                      Please pick me up. I need to talk to you.

          I know I need to talk to her too. But I don't feel like it. Not now. Not in the mess I'm in. Not while I'm worried about Kyungsoo. I don't reply. I just scrape my untouched place into the kitchen trashcan. I put it in the dishwasher, a swirl of mashed potatoes and a matching one of gravy still clinging to it.

          I glance up to find my mom looking at me, a worried smile on her face. "Kyungsoo?" she asks.

          I shake my head. "Jieun."

          "What did she want?"

          "To talk." I sigh.

          "That's girls for you," Mom says. "It's what we do best."

          I know what she's saying, that she's here if I want to talk about it. "Thanks, but--" My phone buzzes again. I look at the screen and wish this message would be from Kyungsoo and not Jieun.

                        Can I come over?

          Mom looks at me as if she wants it to be Kyungsoo as much as I do. I shake my head, and her face falls to what I imagine is a mirror of my own expression. I feel her pity and want to shake it off. So I text Jieun back.

                        No. I'll pick u up. For Chanyeol's party.

        Jieun bawled like a baby all the way here, saying over and over how sorry she is about the drawing. I let her, because I needed to hear it. Not the crying, just the apology. Then, when we got to the party, she disappeared into Chanyeol's bathroom and has been there for the last twenty minutes. I guess I got what I wanted: to be alone. But I can't stand it. My stomach is a mass of writhing worry. And even though the party has barely begun and I know that Kyungsoo's probably still eating dinner at the Dos-no-phone-zone dining-room table, I text him.

                         Hey, can't wait to see you.

          Too tacky. I hold down the delete button.

                         Thinking of you.

          Even worse. Delete.

                          Hope you're hanging in there.

          Is that a ual reference? Or a kitten poster? No. Delete, delete, delete.

          Finally, it's Jieun who saves me when she emerges from the bathroom, her eyes still ringed with red.

          "How do you send a text to someone you kissed and really want to be your boyfriend but you aren't sure he feels the same way?" The words bypass my brain and tumble out of my mouth.

          She takes my phone from my hand. "You don't."

          "But--" I reach for it before her words sink in.

          "Some things are better explained in person." She locks my phone and hands it back.

          "You don't have to di