The manager of A-Plus Park was not known for being a placid man, but you couldn’t blame him for his distress on this particular Monday morning.

“Yes…YES, that’s what I’m saying.  No, I have no idea who could have done it.  It’s—what do you mean what’s the crime? It’s PINK!  My tennis court is PINK!”  Mr. Park yelled into the phone, his face growing pinker by the second. “It’s, well…“ He glanced out the window.  “Yes, I suppose they did a top-notch paint job, but I can’t have my establishment sporting this ridiculous--”

“Yo dad!” The office door banged open.  A tall boy barged in, his baseball cap barely hanging onto his head.  “Did you see?  The tennis court is pink!”

“Chanyeol, wipe your shoes off first! I just had the floor steam-cleaned.”

A loud sigh.  More banging, as Chanyeol stomped back outside to take off his sneakers.

“Daaad.”  A softer voice sniffled, and Mr. Park looked down to see the teary face of his daughter who had just shuffled in.  “I f-failed...”

“What? Oh, honey…” Mr. Park’s face and voice softened in realization. He put down the phone and ruffled his sobbing daughter’s hair.  “It’s okay; there will be other driving tests…”

“But this was my third one!”

“I don’t get what’s so hard about it, geez,” Chanyeol said, returning.  “Just pretend like you’re playing Mario Kart!”

“It’s not that easy, okay?!” Chorong wailed.  “You try driving when there are two police cars following behind you!  I tried to get out of their way, but they just kept following me!”

“Uh…”

“Aww, cheer up,” Mr. Park hugged his daughter, shooting Chanyeol a warning look.  “We’ll have your favorite for dinner tonight, how about that?”

Chorong sniffled and nodded. “Ch-chicken feet?”

“You bet.  Chanyeol, go buy some chicken feet. The money’s on the counter.”

“But Dad, I hate chicken f--!”

“Go!”

Grumbling, the youngest Park stomped back outside.  Meanwhile, the female Park shuffled upstairs to cry over the day’s disappointment, while the father Park returned to agonizing over the state of his park.

 

 

“Oh my god!”

“I don’t understand.  I practiced every day.  I read the manual from cover to cover. I watched all the Fast and Furious movies.  What am I doing wrong?”

“He just looked at me!”

“I’m not a bad driver, right?  My dad says I’m a good driver!”

“Oh my god, did he just look at me?!”

“He was looking at ME, idiot.”

“You’re both idiots; he was looking at the time.”

“And I drove Naeun down the street that one time…”

 “I thought I was going to die,” Naeun muttered under her breath.

“YAY! He just scored!  WOOOO!”

“I LOVE YOU, MR. LOVE!”

Mr. Park never did manage to resolve the Pink Tennis Court Issue last night, too busy comforting his distraught daughter over her latest failure. But he needn’t have worried. If anything, attendence at A-Plus Park had increased in the past 24 hours.  News of the unusually colored tennis court had spread far and wide, thanks to Chanyeol’s social media skills.  On this Monday afternoon, Tennis Court 1A was occupied to maximum capacity as curious members of the community came to get a glimpse of its sparkly pink makeover. 

Chorong and her friends were sitting in the bleacher seats too, but for completely different reasons.

“Look at all those vultures, who don’t know a thing about Mr. Love,” Bomi sniffed.  She glared at the crowd, who over the course of the hour had shifted their rapt attention from the color of the court to the color of a certain tennis player’s tight t-shirt.  “Do they know his favorite color? His favorite song? His pre-match rituals? Hobbies? His evolving hairstyle from the last 30 months? I don’t think so!”

Five voices chorused their agreement.

“Mr. Love,” (his actual family name was  Lau, but that was too boring, obviously) was a local college tennis player who had captured the hearts of numerous fans, not so much due to skill but to his youth and charming smile.  For the past two years, he came to A-Plus Park's Court 1A every morning and afternoon for practice and occasional matches. As daughter of the park’s manager, Chorong always had the front row reserved for her and her friends.

Not that Mr. Love ever seemed to notice his following of overemotional girls, nor the anonymous presents that popped up by his car or in his locker, nor the screams that accompanied his every move....

“30, love!"

With a well-aimed serve, the aptly-nicknamed Mr. Love sent the ball whizzing past his opponent, who moved a second too late.

“MR. LOVE!!!” came the distinctly female screams.  Chorong gave a halfhearted cheer as well; even Mr. Love’s attractively brooding expression as he wiped his sweat couldn’t wipe away the disappointment of her failed test.

After the match, Mr. Love graciously signed autographs as he made his way through the larger-than-usual crowd.  Chorong stayed back. Her father’s office walls were already filled with autographs from the city’s top athletes and socialites, Mr. Love’s included.  Besides, how could she ever hope to catch the attention of any guy if she couldn’t even operate a vehicle?    

Maybe..she would never get her license, and she would have to bike around all the time even when she was eighty years old and a car-less spinster...

“Chorong?  Chorong!”  A familiar, sunny voice broke through her overcast thoughts.  A pale arm waved at her through the crowd, before the attached body made its way over toward her direction. 

“His fashion gets worse every day,” Bomi sighed, as Chorong perked up. “What a waste...”

Chorong had known Suho Kim ever since he had found her crying over her beginner's hapkido lesson by the park gym's water fountains, almost seven years ago. Chorong still remembered. He had been wearing a spotless white golfing outfit, and he had looked like a (tiny) angel.  That had been the beginning of their weekly meetings and friendship. For the past seven years, Suho and his father and uncles came to A-Plus Park every weekend to play a round or two (or ten) of speed golf.  Even now, Suho was probably the youngest person to frequent the golf courses, a fact that he seemed to endorse with pride. 

Today, Suho was dressed in a rosy variation of his usual his golfing getup—pink polo, pink and white golf shorts, and a matching golfer hat.  Knowing Suho, he’d probably done it intentionally once Chanyeol had told him about the tennis court.  He was kind of lame like that.

“Hi, Suho,” said Chorong glumly.  Her friends scooted apart to let Suho through, exchanging smirks.  For reasons unknown to only Chorong, Suho always made sure to visit her after his golf games ended, with flowers/candy/chocolates/stuffed creatures that he’d accidentally bought a surplus of.   Chorong wasn’t sure why Suho always had such difficulty keeping track of his purchases.  Maybe it was a rich-people problem.

“Good afternoon, Chorong!  I brought your favorite candy—uhm, I mean, I happened to buy too much candy and thought we could share...” Suho’s beam dimmed slightly as he noticed Chorong’s red-rimmed eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?  Everything!  I failed my driving test!”  Chorong burst in to renewed sniffles, the wound of her recent failure reopened.  Her friends rolled their eyes as Suho all but fell over himself to dig his handkerchief, emergency handkerchief, tissues, and pack of emergency tissues, out of his pink golf bag.

“Please don’t cry!”

“B-but—“

“Lots of people don’t know how to drive!” Suho comforted, patting her on the arm. “Take my nephews, for example.” 

Chorong gulped and nodded as she blew her nose through half the tissue pack.

“Aren’t they in elementary school?” Eunji, ever the practical one, asked, as she munched on the candy that had been meant for Chorong.   Hayoung elbowed her.

“And it can only get better from here, right?” Suho continued, taking Chorong's hand.  His voice was smooth and soothing, like it had always been, all the times he’d comforted her when they were younger, when Chorong had been especially sensitive to teasing from Chanyeol and taunts from the boys in her hapkido classes.  And as always, Chorong found her doubts retreating under Suho’s warm smile.

“R-right...I guess...”

“And  as my dad always says, there’s no problem that money and hard work can’t solve!”

At that, Chorong's confidence re-crumbled.  “But I’ve already wasted so much money on driving lessons!"

"And she hasn't improved at all," Eunji added helpfully.  Chorong glared at her.

“Hm, that is a predicament...” Suho frowned in thought, before his eyes lit up.  “I know!  How about I teach you?”

"...teach me?"

"Yup!" Suho nodded earnestly. "Remember when we used to practice your hapkido moves together? It'll be great!"

Chorong winced, recalling all the accidental bruises she had inflicted on Suho.  "Um, I don't think--"

 “I’m a very experienced driver," Suho assured her.  "I take Kai and Sehunnie to school every day, and I’ll gladly teach you for free!”

“Are you sure...?” 

“Of course. I would do anything for y—uh, I mean,” Suho coughed.  “I have some free time on the weekends, so why not? Besides, it can’t be that difficult!”

 

 

 

 

“......”

 “I’m sorry,” said Chorong sheepishly.

“It’s…okay,” Suho managed.  His face was as white as a sheet.  He braced his arms against the side of the golf cart as he took in deep gulping breaths.  “I…can...ah...I can see why you might be having difficulty in passing your road exam.”

Chorong wilted. Suho realized his mistake, and he hastily assured her.

“I liked your enthusiasm!  Just...tone it down a little?  Remember the speeding limit in a residential zone!”

Two hours and an extremely pale and out-of-breath Suho later, they decided to call it a day.  Chorong managed improve enough to steer the golf cart in a shaky but collision-free path around the east side of the park.  Under Suho’s instructions, she stopped several times so that she could practice safe braking habits, and so that Suho could pick up stray trash along the way even though it wasn’t even his responsibility. 

That was just like Suho, Chorong reflected, as she admired the way he so carefully separated the recyclables vs. nonrecyclables before dumping the collected trash into the appropriate bins.  He always did things that he didn’t have to: tutoring his classmates, helping humans and canines cross the street, cleaning up after the park when it should be Chanyeol’s job...and now, teaching Chorong how to drive instead of making fun of her like Chanyeol always did. He was like the nice older brother she always wished she had, instead of the annoying younger brother she was stuck with...

 

From Dumbutt: Hey noona are you and your friends going to watch that dumb show-off tennis player again today? What time?

To Dumbutt: Why do you care, if you think he's dumb! 

Read 3:14 p.m.

 

 

 

 

 “Wow, your desperation knows no bounds,” Eunji deadpanned.

“Hmph. Your loss.” was Namjoo's lofty response as she firmly pressed the tennis ball to her lips and placed it in the basket.  “You’re just jealous that  I’m the one that’s going to get an indirect kiss from Mr. Love.”

“And from the dog that’s gonna drool all over it...and from Chorong’s brother when he picks up the leftover balls later.”  The last part Eunji said in a whisper, nodding toward the tall boy who was sweeping leaves off of the adjacent court. He had been sweeping the same patch of ground for the past half-hour.  As if feeling their gazes, Chanyeol straightened up and waved enthusiastically at them.

“...ooh, Chanyeol’s pretty cute too!” Bomi said as she gave the next tennis ball a loud kiss.  Eunji frowned.

“Sure, if you’re into hyperactive guys with unnaturally large smiles and loud voices who never stop talking--”

“Hehe, sounds like you’re talking about yourself.”

“...HEY!  What did you just say, Oh Hayoung! Come back here, you brat!”

Meanwhile, Chorong too was having a productive afternoon, with her newest driving coach.  Under Suho’s straightforward but encouraging instructions, she made two circuits around the park. Suho's pen moved nonstop as he scribbled notes into his pad.

"Let's see...we'll need to work on your turns, your signalling, your stops, your parking, your speed...uh, well, everything, I guess..."

Chorong coughed sheepishly.

"But that's okay!" Suho snapped his notepad shut.  "Rome wasn't built in one day!  Let's work on parking today.  Now, do you remember the first step in parallel parking?"

"Yep!  I think..."

 

 

After several near-crashes with the curb, followed by Suho's patient demonstrations, Chorong finally parallel-park the golf cart next to a familiar tennis court. Hah, take that, (extremely rude) Driving-Instructor-Number-Fifteen who said she had been born under the wrong family name!  

"Great job!" Suho praised, as Chorong beamed in pride. "Keep practicing until next time, okay?  And remember to always check your blind spot!"

"Oh, is our lesson over already...?" Chorong glanced at her watch in surprise. Indeed, the two hours had gone by faster than she'd realized.  

"I'd love to continue, but I wouldn't want you to miss watching your favorite tennis player," Suho teased. Chorong spluttered in protest.  "You should be able to make it to his afternoon practice, right?"

“YES!" Chorong cried in excitement, before reining herself in.  "Um...Not that it's that important.”

Suho raised an eyebrow.

"I’m not that obsessed with him."

The other eyebrow rose.

"He's just a senior that I admire! Respectfully. In a respectful way."

"I see...” Suho said, more to himself than Chorong. 

“Yes.” Chorong cleared . “Yes. I'm glad you see.  Respect is all I feel! Respect for his athleticness and dedication and slight goodlookingness and—“

“Chorong,” Suho interrupted suddenly, putting one hand over hers. Chorong jumped to attention, alarmed. Suho was looking a bit paler than usual.

“Did I doing something wrong? Should I redo the parking?”

“No!  No, you did great.”  Suho smiled at her, though his smile looked a bit strained at the edges.  “I just…wanted to ask you something. If that’s okay.”

“Oh. okay.”

"Let’s say, if I were a car speeding toward you with all of my...feelings.   Would you give me a green light, yellow light, or a red light?”

(Suho Kim had never been very good at analogies.)

At the word ‘car,’ Chorong panicked.  She mentally raced through the 100+ pages of the driver’s manual she’d studied over the past few months.  What was that thing under Part 3 Section 1 of the handbook…? As she frowned, lost in thought, she missed the tiny droplet of sweat rolling down Suho’s golden-ratio forehead.

“AH!  I know!” Chorong cried in excitement.   Suho jumped.

“Y-yes?” he smiled hopefully.

"I would arrest you, because you shouldn’t be speeding!”

Suho’s smile faded.

“Did I get it right?” Chorong asked hopefully. 

“You…ah…uh…never mind.” Suho sighed.

Yellow light, then.

 

 

 

 

"Don't be sad! Here, you can beat me up!"

-10-year-old Suho Kim to 10-year-old Park Chorong, within ten minutes of their first meeting

 

As Valentine's Day approached, Chorong and her friends spent hours debating and voting on the perfect offerings for their favorite tennis player.  Mr. Love seemed confused to find six life-sized teddy bears reclining on his car hood.

Chorong's Valentine’s Day was the usual boring fare.  She made sure to bring her extra-large backpack to school to accommodate the day's burdens: presents and letters in her locker, free chocolates from boys who had never before spoken to her, requests for her to deliver presents to Naeun.  By the end of the school day, Chorong was exhausted by the physical and mental weight of awkward adolescent confessions. She sorted through the gifts in her bag with a yawn. It wasn't easy being popular, Chorong reflected solemnly.  

So tired was she that she almost didn’t notice the pink gift bag someone had stuffed in the very bottom of her backpack.

“What the heck?" Chorong didn't recall accepting such a present; someone must have snuck it in without her knowledge.  "That’s...a little creepy.”  Or maybe they were just shy. Chorong open the bag, lured by the box of...could it be?   Chorong gasped, her salivary glands activated. 

How on earth did the secret admirer know she loved Chucolates? 

A few years ago, when A-Plus Park had attained the status of Cube City's top luxury park, the gourmet brand Chucolates had a sponsored deal with her father.  Vending machines and ice cream stands had been set up throughout A-Plus Park, selling expensive MilkChuc and DarkChuc bars, ChuChu Shakes and Chuco Cones.   It had been any child's dream come true...and any parent's wallet's nightmare come true.  When they were younger, Suho would always treat her and Chanyeol to ice cream after his golf practice and Chorong’s hapkido practice had ended.  Then, they would eat the cool treats together, trading flavors when they got bored, as they watched Suho's uncles play golf.  The memory brought a smile to Chorong’s face.  

I wonder whether Suho gave anyone a Valentine today...the thought made her smile falter a little.  Chorong knew that Suho was popular with the girls at school.  He had his own small fanclub that liked to gather by the golf courts on the weekends, dressed in stylish golfing outfits and cute golfing hats.  Chorong wondered whether Suho liked girls that golfed.  Did he like them better than girls who did other sports...like, for example, hapkido...?  

Who cared! Chorong quickly shoved the box, along with her thoughts, back into the bag.  That was when she noticed the piece of pink stationary paper inside.  

 

Though you only have eyes for Mr. Love

I wish I could be the one for you

But for now, being near your side is enough

XOXO Mr. Chu

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh my god! That’s so cute!”

"And romantic!"

"Wow...I'm jealous..."

"So, are you going to answer him, Rong?” Poke. “Are you?” Poke. “Soon?”

“Anfwer who?” Chorong asked as she munched on her third CHUcolate Kiss, her vaguely planned maybe-diet now shoved to the maybe-not category.  Her friends (the ones who weren’t also stuffing their faces with Chorong’s anonymous gift) exchanged eyerolls.

“The letter!  Suho!” Hayoung cried impatiently. 

“whad doef Fuho haf to do wif anyfing?” Chorong asked. 

“Come on!” Eunji patted Chorong's head.  Eunji was in a bright mood, having gotten the most valentines out of their entire group this year. Ever since playing the lead role in the school musical, her popularity had shot through the roof, surpassing even Naeun’s. “I know you’re kind of oblivious sometimes, but don’t tell me you’re this blind."

"Huh?"

"He’s obviously your secret admirer!”

“Wha...”  Chorong choked on her chocolate.  “Wait. You think it’s from...him?”

“Duh,” five voices responded flatly.

Chorong paused, mid-chew, to absorb the new information. 

“Who else could it be?  Who else follows you around all the time and would be cheesy enough to write a lame poem?”

“Hey!”  Chorong hugged the letter to her chest.  Suddenly, it didn't seem so creepy anymore. “I don’t think it’s lame...”

 

 

“Are you alright, Chorong?”

“Yes! Fine! Great!  Wow, it’s such a beautiful day today, huh? Look at all those clouds!” Chorong chattered. She held the steering wheel in a death grip.  Suho peered worriedly at the preoccupied girl.

“You seem nervous.  Is it because we switched to the large golf cart today?  I thought it’d be a good idea to work our way up to something similar to a commercial car, but if you’d like to spend another lesson in the mini cart that’s perfectly fine...”

“No!  I’m fine!” Chorong insisted. “I’m not nervous! Why would I be nervous?”

“That’s the spirit!” Suho patted her on the shoulder, eliciting a squeak. 

It was a very tense lesson, as Chorong looked anywhere but at Suho and Suho kept shooting her anxious looks.  Chorong wondered whether Suho knew she'd already figured out his secret identity.  More importantly, did he want her to figure it out? 

Later that night, Chorong took out her rhyming dictionary and her nicest stationery and prepared her reply.  It was not an easy task, as she had never had much experience with the poetic arts.

Dear Mr. Chu...

 

 

Chorong’s confidence evaporated when she saw Suho again, the next day.  He was dressed in a green-and-brown golfing outfit this time, and he looked like a handsome tree.

Had he always been this good looking?

“Good afternoon, Chorong!” Suho greeted, offering her a giant lollipop. (“I accidentally bought an extra...”)  He then helped her into the golf cart.

Had he always been so chivalrous? 

"Good afternoon."  Chorong echoed timidly, though her stomach felt anything but good right now. Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled the carefully wrapped box out of her backpack.  It was covered in gold and tied up with a purple bow—Suho’s favorite colors. 

“This is for...um...Mr. Chu,” Chorong mumbled, ing the box in Suho’s hands.  Suho had to lean down to hear her.  

“For Mr....Oh!” Suho’s eyes widened in realization as he took the box.  “You mean...already...?”

“Just...give it to him?" Chorong's heart was racing faster than her car that time she had accidentally gotten a little too relaxed on the freeway.  She couldn't meet Suho's eyes.  “And, um, tell...him...to read it very carefully? Okay? Okay, bye!  Good talk!”  With that, she sprinted away.

“Wait!  But what about our lesson....?”

 

 

Dear Mr. Chu,

You’re stupid.

Because the only one I’ve ever looked at

Is you.

I like you

Too.

p.s. Sorry... I’m not that good at writing poems

 

 

“I gave your delivery to Mr. ‘Chu,’” Suho announced during their next lesson.   “He was very happy to receive it.”  He winked at her, and Chorong nearly choked on the milkshake he had bought her. How could Suho be so unfazed?  Did he regularly court girls with anonymous poems?  The thought dampened Chorong's mood. But no, Suho wasn't that kind of a person...right...?

“Oh. Um. That’s good.”

“Although next time, you could deliver the message directly to him?”  Suho suggested.

The straw fell from Chorong's lips. Was that an invitation?  A hint? Should she confess, right now?  Chorong turned, slowly, to face him.  

"You think so?" she asked.  

Suho nodded, still smiling that gentle smile.  "Wouldn't it be easier?"

Chorong considered the question. Suho was right, of course.  It would be.  And as Chorong met Suho’s steady gaze, she realized that she had nothing to be afraid of.  Suho was her childhood friend, who had always looked after her, and who had always had a special place in her heart. And now that he had written a love poem for her, the ball was in her court.

Gathering up all her courage, Chorong reached up to fix a strand of Suho’s hair that the wind had blown out of place. Suho's smile froze, and his wide eyes snapped to her shaky hand as it patted the dark brown strands.

“Ch-Chorong...?”

“Your hair is really soft,” Chorong said quietly.

“oh. Thank you.” Suho swallowed audibly. His voice had quieted, too. “I’ve been trying out a new conditioner...the Super Smoother Junior.”

“...that’s the same one Mr. Love uses.”  

“I know,” Suho muttered, his expression losing some of its brightness.

“But it definitely looks better on you than it does on Mr. Love,” Chorong hastened to assure him.  “You look really handsome.” 

Now it was Suho’s turn to look flustered.

“I...oh! Really? Uh-ah—thank you...”

“HEY, ARE YOU GUYS GOING TO MOVE?” A loud honk interrupted their moment, and Chorong whirled around to see Chanyeol waving at them from his own golf cart.  For some reason, his grin seemed wider than usual today.  “OH, by the way, noona, you left your booob underwear in the bathroom, and I tripped on it and then it accidentally flew into the trash can so I put it in the wash with my clothes but I forgot you’re really picky about separating the colored stuff so now it’s kind of weirdly colored...”

“IT’S CALLED A BRA YOU DUMMY, AND I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Chorong shrieked in mortification. 

A half-confused, half-amused Suho watched on as the furious girl hopped out of her seat and stomped toward her obliviously chattering brother, murder written all over her face.

 

 

Mr. Chu’s reply came two days later. Court 1A saw a new message, painted in gigantic white letters, on the pink ground for all to see:

I LUV YOU
U YOU
XOXO MR. CHU

 

("Wow, a real literary man..." Bomi sighed in envy.)

 

 

 

“That’s it!  THAT IS IT!  THAT IS THE LAST STRAW!”  Mr. Park fumed over his Belgian waffles.  Chanyeol looked up, mid-chew.

“What do you mean? There’s like, a whole pack of straws here—“

“THIS IS A RESPECTABLE ESTABLISHMENT I’M RUNNING, NOT SOME FREE-FOR-ALL LOVE CIRCUS—“

“Um, Dad—“ Chorong began timidly.

“The pink court was bad enough...then the lipstick marks all over the tennis balls...now this.  I DON’T CARE if all the silly teenagers are going gaga over it; I can’t have my park defaced left and right—I have top athletes who visit this place!"

“Dad—“ Chanyeol tried.

“IT'S CALLED A-PLUS PARK, NOT A-PINK PARK! What’s next, hearts drawn on the tennis court? People singing and dancing to love songs on it?”

“That would be really weird,” Chorong agreed. "But, um--"

“Kids these days!  ANYWAY, I’m glad I have such lovely children, who would never endorse such displays of vandalism.”  Mr. Park patted his forehead dry, before smiling proudly at his children.  Chanyeol and Chorong smiled nervously back.  “Don’t you two worry about your poor father; he's going to put an end to this nonsense, very soon...”

“What do you mean?” Chorong asked. She had a bad feeling about the gleam in her father's eyes. Mr. Park was a nice man, but he was very protective when it came to his beloved park.

"After the whole pink fiasco and the police’s complete, condescending mishandling of the entire situation, your genius father had the foresight to install cameras inside the court," Mr. Park explained.  "It should be simple enough for those dimwit policemen to do identify the criminal from the tapes. I'll bring them in, first thing tomorrow morning." 

Mr. Park then returned to his waffles, oblivious to the look of horror growing on his children's faces.

 

 

"Come on, come on, where are you...?"  Chorong clung on to the screened fence of the tennis court.  She'd worn her rubber-grip socks and gloves just for this occasion.  The last time she'd attempted climbing the fence, she had been one foot shorter and forty pounds lighter, with her friends cheering her along. Now, though, it was pitch dark and she was alone.  

But she couldn't let Suho go to jail!  

Chorong hoisted herself up to the very top of the fence and clung on to the wires with one hand.  With the other, she lifted her binoculars and peered through the lens. Where could her dad have put the cameras? 

The night was silent, giving her no answers. Chorong scanned the court below and the the trees above and around.  Nothing seemed out of place...

Squeak.

Chorong froze.

Squeak squeak.

The unmistakeable sound of footsteps approaching.  Chorong whipped her head down in the direction of the court, in time to catch movement in the corner of her binoculars.  Then she blinked, sure she was hallucinating.  

There, striding into the court, was Mr. Love himself.  Chorong had followed him enough with her friends to be able to recognize his profile anywhere.  Even when he was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual tennis gear.

Even when he was carrying a gigantic paint roller in one hand and a pink paint bucket in the other.

Wait, what?

Chorong held her breath as she watched in growing disbelief.  Mr. Love set the bucket down by the center of the court, where "Mr. Chu" had penned his poem.  He removed the paint lid with a grunt, and dipped the roller inside.

Then, he dragged it over Mr. Chu's poem, the white letters disappearing under a fresh coat of pink. Chorong gasped in horror.  She hadn't even gotten to take a picture of it!  All of Suho's hard work...!  The thought propelled her back into action, and soon enough she was half climbing, half sliding down the fence.  The loud rattling startled Mr. Love, who yelped at the interruption.

"W-who's there?!"

"I should be asking you that."  Chorong brushed her hands against her dark pajama pants, before folding her arms.  "Mr. Love."

"Mister....what?"

"Don't change the subject!  What are you doing here?" Chorong demanded.  

"I...uh...sorry, my Korean bad...I no understand,” Mr. Love stuttered in heavily accented Korean, avoiding her glare.

“Bull!” Mr. Lau's eyes widened at the foul language coming out the baby-faced girl’s mouth, and Chorong grinned.

“HA! You did understand that!”

Mr. Love opened his mouth.

“And come on, I’ve heard you talk in perfectly fine Korean before.”  In fact, Chorong and her friend's had listened to clips of Mr. Love showing off his English, violin, piano, Chinese, and Korean talents on various local radio shows.

Mr. Love closed his mouth.  Then opened it. Then closed it. Then, he reached into his pocket. “How much do you want?” he asked , now in perfect Korean.

“Huh?”

From his wallet, Mr. Love withdrew a hundred dollar bill and offered it to her.  “Is this enough?”

“Um, I don’t—“

“No?”  Mr. Love pulled out another bill.  “Or two?  Three?”

“What...”

“More?” More bills were produced as Chorong backed away.  Mr. Love grabbed her by the arm. “How about front row tickets to a Super Junior concert; I’m friends with their manager—“

“Let go of me! I have a black belt!"

"Look, kid--"

"I'm not afraid to beat you up! I'm warning you, Mr. Love!”

“HEY, what’s going on here?” A new voice joined in.  Seconds later, a third body entered the court through the doorway separating Court 1A and 2A.

"Chanyeol!" Chorong cried.  She had never been so glad to see her brother, though she wasn't sure what he was doing here in the middle of the night. Chanyeol's usually cheerful face was set in a frown as he strode over.  Like Chorong, he was dressed in black and had a pair of binoculars slung over his neck.

"Let go of my sister."

"No harm meant, no harm!"  Mr. Love hastily dropped Chorong's arm.  "Wow, another one? Isn't it a little late for you kids to be out here?"

"Our father owns the park," Chanyeol replied, pulling out his phone.  "And I'm sure he'd be extremely interested to hear about trespassers on our property."

"Trespasser--" Mr. Love spluttered.  "Don't you know who I am? I'm Henry Lau!"

"Yeah, I know." Chanyeol replied, unimpressed.  "The overrated tennis player."

"Hey!"

"And you have exactly sixty seconds to tell us what you're doing, or else I'm calling Dad. Though, I'm pretty sure I can guess already."  Chanyeol flipped open his phone.  Like that, Mr. Love deflated.

"All right, fine!  Yes." He kicked the paint bucket.  "I painted the court pink."

The truth sounded no less strange coming out of the perpetrator's mouth.  Chorong frowned.  "But why?"

"'Cause he's an attention hog," Chanyeol said bluntly.  "He's trending online now, because of the pink tennis court."

Mr. Love frowned.

"I prefer the term 'go-getter.'  I simply saw an opening and took it."

"Illegally."

"Oh, come on! I didn't mean any harm!  Besides, I brought the park additional publicity, didn't I?"  With every word coming out of Mr. Love's mouth, Chorong found her image of him crumbling like dry paint. “I just wanted to be noticed, for once!  Do you know what it’s like to have the skill and work your off, but be constantly overlooked because you’re too young, too foreign, or whatever stupid reasons people come up with?”

Chorong thought of all the times, pre-puberty, when the boys in her hapkido class had refused to partner with her because she was a girl. 

"Noona, don't feel sorry for him," Chanyeol warned, recognizing the softening expression on his sister's face.

Mr. Love turned to the boy. “Haven't you ever gone to great lengths to get yourself noticed by people? Or by someone?"

"Nope," Chanyeol replied stubbornly, though his gaze drifted uncertainly toward the poem painted onto the tennis court.  His expression morphed from uncertainty to horror as he noticed that half of the letters were now missing, covered by a fresh layer of pink.

"Hey! The poem!" Chanyeol cried.

"Oh, is that what that jibberish was supposed to be?" Mr. Love scoffed.  Instantly, what little sympathy was in Chanyeol's eyes dissipated.

"Couldn't you have left it there for at least a day?  I worked so hard on it!" Chanyeol yelled.

"...wait, WHAT?" Chorong cried.

"What about all the work I did to paint the entire tennis court?" Mr. Love retorted.

"And Suho even proofread it for me!  And she didn't even get to see it yet--"

"You need a better proofreader then, no offense--"

"...YOU'RE Mr. Chu?!?" Chorong cried, grabbing Chanyeol's arm.

"Yeah, you know." Chanyeol shrugged Chorong's arm off.  "Haven't you been delivering my messages to Eunji for me?"

"...EUNJI?!"

"Not so loud!" Chanyeol hissed, glancing at Mr. Love.  "He's my competition, remember?!"

"...What are you talking about?  It's Suho's poem! He wrote it, to me!"

This time it was Chanyeol's turn to stare.  "What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Wow, looks like you two have a lot to talk about," Mr. Love interrupted. "Ah, young love... Well, I'll just be leaving then...call me, when you're ready for the court to have a new makeover.  I'm thinking purple would be a nice choice..."

Barely had the words left his mouth before the tennis court was illuminated, as the overhead lights .  

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" Mr. Park's voice boomed, amplified by a megaphone.  He did not sound very happy.

Chorong and Chanyeol froze.

 

 

 

 

Hey noona, deliver this to Eunji, okay? And don't tell her it's from me. It's definitely not a love poem or anything so DON'T LOOK INSIDE OR ELSE. 

-unread Post-It note found at the bottom of Park Chorong's (very stuffed) backpack

 

 

 

“Mr. ‘Chu’, seriously?”

“IT WASN’T FOR YOU!”  Chanyeol huddled sadly against the wall in the Park household's Time-Out corner, as he copied lines onto a sheet of paper:

I will not use my father’s extremely important tennis court to write letters to girls.

I will not use my father’s extremely important tennis court to write letters to girls.

I will not use my father’s...

"How was I supposed to know?  Why didn't you just tell me?"

"BECAUSE IT WAS EMBARRASSING, OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"And I can't believe you like Eunji!" Chorong continued gleefully, as Chanyeol's face turned increasingly red.  "How long? When? Where? How? Why?"

“SHUT UP! MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!”

“PARK CHANYEOL,” the elder Mr. Park’s voice boomed.  “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”

 

I will not curse at my sister.

I will not curse at my sister.

I will not curse at my sister...

 

 

 

STOP asking me about my dad's pink tennis court!  I already posted a picture of it!!! NO, I don't know who wrote that dumb poem on it let's just all forget it ever happened okay?? who cares right hahaha. And for the billionth time, NO, I'm not gonna post a picture of that tennis player dude who always goes there.  Why are you all so obsessed with him anyway?? Btw, I also play tennis AND I play the guitar which is way more cool than the violin just saying......

-opening lines of a very impassioned post by Instagram user ASAP_PARKY (Park Chanyeol), February 20th 2014

 

 

Because Park Chanyeol had the tact and common sense of a park tractor, the first thing he did when he got his confiscated cell phone back was to call Suho and grumble to his friend about how his dad played favorites and how his sister had RUINED his attempted courtship.  

"...all 'cause she thought you were the one who sent the letters!"

"Yes, yes, that's terrible...wait, w-what?"  Suho's voice suddenly went up several octaves, but Chanyeol was too cross to notice.

"Ridiculous, right?  I mean, if you really liked her, you would've told her as soon as possible instead of making random excuses to hang out with her, right?"

"Um."

"You're lucky you don't have a sister, man.  They're so annoying and dumb and....oh, shoot. N-noona!"

"Channie? Who are you talking to?"

"N-NO ONE!"

"Oh, is that your sister? May I speak with her--"

"Then why do you look so guilty?"

"Me, guilty? Haha, you must be hallucinating things. I'm gonna go up to my room now, so--OW!"

"WHO. IS. THAT.  PARK. CHAN. YEOL. DUMBUTT."

"NO ONE--OW!  DON'T BEAT ME UP!  SUHO, HELP--"

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t want to talk about it!" was the first thing Chorong said as she plopped down into the driver’s seat of the golf cart.  She would've skipped the lesson altogether, but Suho had sent her a very succinct message informing her that today's lesson was of utmost importance.

He hadn't mentioned anything about that blabbermouth Chanyeol's phone call.

 From the passenger’s side, Suho raised an eyebrow at her. If Chorong hadn’t been too embarrassed to look in his direction, she would’ve noticed that his eyes were sparklier than usual today.

“Talk about what?”

“You know what! The...Mr. Chu thing.”

“Hm...I’m sorry.  I’m afraid I don’t know this ‘Mr. Chu’ you’re referring to.”

“Hey, are you making fun of me?!”  Chorong finally turned her head to glare at Mr. Not-Chu-after-all.  It was then that she noticed Suho was wearing a gray pinstriped suit, instead of his usual colorful golfing outfit. He had an expensive-looking watch on, and his hair was slicked back. He looked like a miniature version of his father.

“What the...“

Suho cleared his throat and produced a clipboard and pen.  He adjusted his tie.   “Good afternoon, Miss Park.”

“Good afternoon...? Um, Suho--”

“My name is Mr. Car, and I’ll be your examiner this afternoon.”  Suho offered a hand.  “Are you ready for your road test?”

Chorong gulped as she accepted the firm handshake.  She had never been good with pop quizzes. Also, Suho looked really handsome and slightly scary in a suit...  “um...yes?”

Suho inclined his head, signalling for her to begin.

 

 

 

"Make a U-turn, here."

"Okay..."

Suho took the whole mock-exam very seriously. A little too seriously, if you asked Chorong. His mouth was set in a permanent stern line. It was unnerving to not see his usual sunny smile directed at her.  Suho had even managed to enlist her friends’ assistance in holding up fake signposts and fake traffic lights at the park’s intersections. Chorong tried to keep a straight face whenever she passed Bomi, who seemed to take her afternoon’s job as a perfect opportunity to showcase her high fashion modelling poses and expressions.

All traces of laughter disappeared, however, when Chorong approached the final turn.  There, by the golf courts, was a road sign that Chorong had never before seen before in her driver’s manual.

 

MISS PARK, WILL YOU BE MINE? XOXO MR. CAR <== TURN LEFT IF YES       TURN RIGHT IF NO ==>

 

"Um, it’s...okay if you turn right,” Suho assured, misreading Chorong's silence.  His stern voice and expression had disappeared, replaced by a nervous smile. “You passed the test, anyway...”

Chorong beamed and switched on her left blinkers.  She checked her mirrors.  She checked her blind spot.  Then, she rotated the wheel. 

It was the easiest turn she had ever made in her life.

(Though she could’ve done without the cheering from her friends.)

 

 

"omg! It was like something out of a movie <3 I'm so jealous!" -Bomi

"Sooooo cute :3" -Hayoung

"Lame.  LAME." -Eunji

"Disgusting." -Namjoo

"That's so sweet! I'm happy for you Rong!" -Naeun

"HI EUNJI I TOTALLY AGREE WITH YOU HI IT'S ME CHANYEOL BY THE WAY" -anonymous guest

-APink chatroom, 5:30 P.M.