That morning, I texted Jongsuk as soon as I woke up, like i did every day. I never got out og bed until I saw his return message pop up on my screen.

MORNING, SU. HAVE A GOOD DAY.

With that, I pushed back the blanket, getting to my feet, and went to take a shower, dropping my phone onto the speaker just outside the bathroom on my way. I didn't listen to AOA that day, even though it was my go-to rise and shine music. Instead, it was news, just headlines, none of which I remembered after toweling myself off.

Once dressed, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, where Eomma was still in her PJs watching SBS News, her favorite news show. For two hours each day, she'd keep up a commentary show. Everyone had something, I guess, and Eomma's was a morning news program.

"Sowon is just too thin these days," she said to me, as I popped bread in the toaster, checking the clock. "I know she's going through that divorce, but she needs to take care of herself."

I glanced at the TV, where Kim Sowon, in a a beige dress, was talking. She looked fine to me. "What do you and Wooyoung have going on today?"

"Just preparing for Krystal Jung's rehearsal dinner, and the wedding tomorrow," she replied. During the school year, I only worked on the weekends, so I was less up to date on the various events we'd planned. This one, though, I remembered, if only for the unqiue name.

"This is the one with the crystals around the venue?" I asked.

She sighed, closing her eyes. On the TV, Choi Youngjae, the weatherman, was now pointing at a weather map. "It's a handful to order crystals last minute, and I can't believe you're bringing it up when I'm clearly stressing."

"Sorry," I said, holding in a laugh. It wasn't easy for her to be stressed about crystals, but Krystal really wanted them for both her rehearsal dinner and wedding. Besides the crystals, there is going to be special-ordered BBQ and ribs to remind her of her American heritage. Eomma had been complaining about it for weeks. The only upside was that the wedding itself was traditional as the dinner was not: big church, big guest list, really big money. If Eomma had a price for dealing with thousands of crystals, they'd clearly met it.

Eomma then took a sip of her coffee, nodding at the TV. "Look at BamBam. He's had so much Botox he can't even look concerned for those poor people on that wreck ferris wheel."

My toast popped up and i grabbed it, taking another look at the screen. This time, I could see your point. BamBam had never met a cosmetic procedure he didn't like, and HD kept no secrets. "I got to go. I told Gayeon I'd meet her early to study for that French quiz."

"Be sure to eat that toast," she called as I walked to the door. "I've got enough worries with Krystal."

In the car, I ate half as I headed out of our neighborhood, then to the main road to school. At the first stoplight, my phone beeped. It was Gayeon, driving the twins and Jae to school, like she do every day.

LUNCHBOX FAIL. BE THERE ASAP. FLAGPOLE?

I glanced at the light, still red, then quickly replied a thumbs-up. As traffic starting moving again, I heard my ringtone.

"Bonjour jolie fille," Jongsuk said when I picked up. "Êtes-vous prêt pour le test?"

"I think the fact that I have no idea what you're saying does mean I'm not going to do well for this quiz," I replied.

"I asked if you were ready for the test," he laughed. "Also I called you beautiful girl."

"Well, that's nice." I smiled. "And the answer is clearly no."

I heard someone's voice in the background; he drove to his own school every day with some of his friends, and the collective volume was always high. "Will you guys shut up? I'm trying to talk to my girlfriend."

I felt my face blushed. That never got old.

"You're always talking to your girlfriend," someone said. "And aren't we stopping for Starbuck? It's Friday."

"No can do, I said I'd meet Coach in his office before the late bell," Jongsuk said. To me he added, "Still not sure what this is about. Got me king of twisted."

"It's got to be good," I told him, as I had the night before, and the day before that. getting called in for a special meeting with his coach could only mean something really good or bad, according to Jongsuk. I'm betting on the former, but I understood his worry. "Be sure to text me, though. I'm curious."

"You and me both." Another chorus of laughter from the background. "I'd better go, we're almost there. Talk at lunch?"

"Yup," I said, as school came up in the distance. Usually I got to mine first, as he and his friends were always stopping for food en route. "I can tell you how badly I failed that quiz."

"Tu feras bien," he replied.

"Something about good?"

"You'll do fine," he told me, laughing. "Love you, Su."

"Love you, too," I answered. "Talk soon."

I pulled into the lot, then wound around, looking for a parking space. By the time I found one, the time was 7:55. I had twenty minutes to find Gayeon, cram like crazy, and then hope for the best for the quiz.

When I got to the flagpole, she wasn't there, so I sat down and pulled out my book to review the verb tenses. I thought about Jongsuk, going to his coach's office at around the same time, and closed my eyes, thinking good things for him.

By the time the bell rang, Gayeon still haven't shown up. So much for studying, I thought, although I wasn't exactly surprised. Everything at the at their house was crazy, but in the mornings it's crazier, which is why Gayeon had a low grade in French: she was always late. I was just bad at it. Apparently.

When I got to class, Mme. Fields was already giving out the quizzes. I slid into a seat and opened my bag, taking out a pen and checking the door for Gayeon as she handed me mine. I scanned the first question: no idea. Great.

The late bell rang, and after the normal amount of backpack zipping and general settling-in noises, the room fell silent around me. As I worked down the page I realized I wasn't entirely clueless, which was encouraging. Up at the front of the room, Mme. Fields was on her laptop, brows furrowed as she scanned the screen.

By the time I'd finished the quiz as best I could, it was 8:45 and I was one of the last ones to hand in the paper. As I did, I looked outside for Gayeon. A half hour was late, even for her. A few moments later, Mme. Fields got to her feet, coming around to lean against the desk, and told us in French to open our books to page 97. THE SUBJUNCTIVE, the title heading said in Korean. The upshot seemed to be that you used it when you weren't certain. Well, I thought, that would come in handy for me.

Just then, outside the half-open door, I heard someone running down the hallway. For a minute I thought it was Gayeon, but then they passed by, a blur in my side vision as Mme. Fields directed out attention to the board, where she was busy writing something in his handwriting.

At 9:05, when the bell rang signaling the end of class, I immediately pulled out my phone, expecting to see a series of panicked texts from her over the last 55 minutes. But there was nothing except a bunch of news alerts, which I didn't bother to read. I had a long way to go in the five minutes we were given between classes if I wasn't going to be late myself, to AP Art.

As usual, everyone seemed to be moving super slow when I was in a rush. The hallway was crowded with people on their phones or talking loudly to each other as I pass through bodies and backpacks, trying to get to the stairs that's usually less crowded than the others. By the time I got to the down stairs, I only had two minutes until the bell. I did notice a lot of people standing around the TV in the main office, looking at something, but it didn't occur to me to see what it was.

Once outside, I passed a couple making out and two guys walking very slowly with instrument cases as I headed for the Art and Theatre building. I pulled my backpack closer and jogged to my classroom's back door, which Mr. Jung, bless him, kept propped open because he knew it was a valued shortcut.

"Suzy!"

When I heard Gayeon's voice - tone, volume, trembling - made me stop where I was. I turned around to see her coming toward me across the grass, where you weren't allowed to walk, her footsteps leaving prints. She had one hand to , and her eyes were wide. Without even knowing why, I suddenly felt cold.

"Omo," I said, rushing toward her. "What happened? Are you okay? It is one of the kids?"

The bell rang then, loud and piercing. She reached out, her fingers gripping on my arm. "No, it's not . . . Suzy, there's been a shooting."

"A what?" I said. Just behind me, I could hear my teacher rapping his hand on the desk to quiet everyone down, just like he always did. "I don't understand."

In response, she pulled out her phone. BREAKING, it said in yellow block letters on the screen, above an image of a building with a sign in front, a tiger painted on its side. SHOOTER CONFIRMED AT HIGH SCHOOL, SANYA, CHINA.

I just looked at the words, trying to make sense of them. "Omo," I said, immediately pulling out my own phone, fingers shaking as I selected Jongsuk's number. It went straight to voicemail, but that wasn't unusual: he wasn't allowed to have his phone in class. Still, I fired off a text - YOU OK?? - for when he would see it. Because Jongsuk was fine. He had to be. What were the chances?

"I was late, with Jae's stupid lunchbox thing, and I heard them break it on the radio," she said. she was still holing my arm. "It was in the gym, at least that's what they were saying."

Jongsuk's first was Math: I knew this as well as, if not better than, the fact that French was my own. "He wouldn't have been in the gym," I said. "He starts in the main building."

"Oh, good," she said. She eased her grip, finally, letting her hand drop. "I just, when I heard Sanya, and they said there were fatalities -"

I looked back at my screen and the two words I'd sent, willing the dots to appear beneath them that would signal he was typing a response. Nothing.

"Suzy?" I heard Mr. Jung called from the door behind me. "Time to come in. We're starting."

"One second," I called over my shoulder. I looked at Gayeon. "He's fine, right? It's a huge school, he always says so."

"I'm sure he is," she said. "And it sounds like he wasn't even near there."

"Yeah." I swallowed, looking at my phone again. "I should . . . I guess I'll go in to class?"

"Okay," she said. Neither of us moved. "I'm sure he'll text you any minute."

I heard footsteps and looked behind her to see a school officer coming toward us. There were two: one was wide and muscular, the other skinny and tall. This was the skinny one. "Ladies, it's past the late bell. Move to her second periods."

"I'm going," Gayeon told him, then looked at me again. "Text me. The minute you hear."

"I will," I said. He was still standing there, watching us. I slipped my phone in my pocket and went inside.

For the next 55 minutes, Mr. Jung stood in front of the board, teaching about the Impressionists. Not that I could have told you then, or now, what he said: I wrote not one word on the empty notebook in front of me, my eyes instead on my phone's screen, which I had hidden under my coat in my lap. Our school, like Jongsuk's and most others, had a strict no-phone-in-class policy that usually followed. But that day, I would've have fought someone to keep it close and on. By the time the bell rang, there was still no word.

The minute I got back outside, I dialed him again. This time, it went straight to voicemail without even ringing. Clearly, I wasn't the only one calling. I pulled up my messages.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOU'RE OKAY

No dots. I felt suddenly sick, and bend over a nearby trashcan, pulling my hair back. But nothing happened. Just people walking by, talking, on their way to class, like any other day.

Then, a beep. Thank goodness, I thought, tears springing to my eyes.

ANY WORDS?

Gayeon. I typed her back NO, then started walking to the main building, still holding my phone in my hand. My next class was AP Psychology, all the way down by the bus parking lot. It wasn't until I remembered my conversation with Jongsuk earlier.

Said I'd meet Coach in his office before the late bell.

I stopped walking where I was, causing someone to bump me form behind. They exhaled, then cut around me as I opened my news app. BREAKING STORY: SHOOTING AT SANYA HIGH SCHOOL. I clicked the link, which took me to a picture of the same school building, this time will police cars parked all around the front. Three bullet points, designed for scanning quickly, were below.

SHOTS FIRED JUST BEFORE FIRST PERIOD, AROUND 8:15 A.M.
MULTIPLE VICTIMS REPORTEDLY IN GYM AREA.
SHOOTER BELIEVED TO BE CURRENT STUDENT, ACTING ALONE.

8:15, I thought. I'd just gotten my French quiz. Jongsuk should've been in English, trying not to look at the hair of the girl in front of him, which he maintained was so greasy it literally dripped onto his desk. I knew this. I knew everything about him. SO how did I not know if he was all right?

The hallway was emptying as everyone went into classrooms and down the nearby staircase. Moments earlier, it had been packed, elbow to elbow, with me in a sea of people. Now I stood there, staring at my phone, until all the doors around me closes and I was the only one left, standing alone. I told myself I wasn't moving until I knew something, that I'd stop time in the meantime. Later, it would seem silly that I thought I could do this, have some control over events already happened. But I believed in a lot of things, before. I never heard from Jongsuk again.