The Final Chapter

This particular installment of What Will Hyun’s Disturbed Subconscious Plague Her With? is more jarring than she's had in a while.

She's drowning in her own blood, unnervingly familiar, and clawing at some bodiless form to pull her up and out. What she sees when she finally surfaces isn't the mutilated face of some horrible monster; it is her own eyes, and hands, condemning her pathetic escape before shoving her back down. She jolts awake in the darkness, sweating and heaving, before retiring against her pillows resolutely and sinking into a dreamless sleep. She wakes about ten minutes before her alarm is due, around six-thirty. And after a quick shower she's pacing in her towel.

Countless thoughts are ping-ponging insides of her mind. Some are alarmingly profound and legimite, others less so. Regardless, Hyun can’t get ‘what if the teacher calls on me and I saw the answer is 42 when it’s really Rosa Parks?’ out of her scattered brain. That’s certainly possible. She’d probably have to get a wig and tunnel herself to Mexico City at that point. Her near future looks eerily vague. The only thing she can think  to do at the moment is to ready herself like an animal would be readied before slaughter. She pulls her curls into a bun and brushes out her bangs. Her brain can’t be bothered to figure out some elaborate outfit; so she just pulls her sleeveless Dean shirt on and slides into some white overall shorts, folding her schedule and putting it in one of the pockets.

Greeted by the sweet aroma of pancakes when she opens her bedroom door, Hyun is both comforted and burdened. Her mother didn’t need to go through the trouble of making her breakfast. As delicious as they smell, she feels too faint to eat. Her stomach is in knots. Her palms are uncomfortably warm. And she’s still in the house. She doesn’t even want to imagine what it will be like taking the bus, and then getting off the bus and walking into Real High School™. Anyone would think Hyun were being herded off to jump into a bottomless abyss with the way her heart is thrumming out of tune. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” Her mother is cheery. Hyun would waste the energy to be irritated if she weren’t endlessly grateful for the effort her mother is putting in to be sunshine when Hyun feels like a rainstorm. The painful irony is as unsettling as it is a punch in the gut by reality. Her mother, though absent for far too long, is actually here in the flesh. All the times she needed her but couldn’t reach her feel so far in the past. No longer things to dwell on. Hyun belatedly realizes that she needs her mother right now, and she’s actually here. She also takes a moment to appreciate her mother’s choice of words. Morning is appropriate. It is indeed a morning. ‘Good’ has to be earned; and Hyun is dully terrified that it never will be. 

“Morning,” she mumbles, sliding into a kitchen chair. Even though her heart is bungee jumping off of Hyun’s lungs into her crackling gut, she does what she can to get down a few pancakes and some orange juice. It’s more sour this morning, a bad omen of sorts. 

“If it gets rough, just ask to go the bathroom,” her mother tells her, eyes more worried than her steady pancake flipping fingers. “If they tell you no, just say you have a bladder condition. I’ll forge a doctor’s note if I have to.”

That’s supposed to be reassuring, Hyun realizes after a slow blink, and tells her mother thanks. She contemplates actually doing this before she decides to take a hard pass on it. She’s already going to be the weird senior who’s never been to Real High School™. The last thing she needs is to be the weird senior with a bladder condition. 

With a glance at her phone screen, she realizes she doesn’t have much time to make it to the bus stop and gets up, chewing on her last bit of pancake.

“I’m off.” Hyun swings her backpack over her shoulder and downs the last of her juice.

“Okay, okay.” Hyun’s mother rushes over to her open purse and pulls out a ten. She walks over and presses it into Hyun’s palm meaningfully. “For lunch. Try to have a vegetable. Fruit, too, if you can.”

Hyun nods. She walks over to the front door to slide into her sneakers. Just as she has the door open her mother calls out that she loves her and without thinking Hyun says, “Love you, too, mom.” She pauses then, and turns around. Her mother is staring at her, brown eyes flush with tears. Her chest aches.

“Why are you crying?” Hyun exhales, throat tight. 

“I’m okay.” Her mother waves with one hand and wipes the tears with the other, offering a trembling smile. “Have a good day.”

“Doubtful,” Hyun mumbles to herself as she closes the door behind and stars toward the bus stop. She spares one moment to make an astute observation: it’s hot. 

Like, ‘sweating in places where humans shouldn’t sweat’ hot. Hyun is alone at first when she reaches the bus stop. Then other kids slowly start to congregate. None of them bat an eyelash in Hyun’s direction, which she can’t help but be grateful for. One thing that helps her remember to breathe is thinking that’s it’s Hani pressed a little too near to her side. It’s only Kuhn laughing loud. Jackson and Mark are wrestling further toward the sidewalk. She can make it through this. 

A few minutes late, the yellow of the bus glints in the distance and eventually pulls up to the curb. To avoid being shoved, Hyun slips to the back of the forming line and gets on very last. She says hello to the bus driver, a freckled-faced older woman with the kindest smile, and starts her slow walk down the aisle. She immediately has the urge to panic and flee. It’s loud and hot and uncomfortably tight. She thinks she might actually pass out from holding her breath when she sees Mina’s backpack and bright grin bouncing over the rows of faceless bodies and picks up her dragging feet. 

“Thank God.” Hyun drops right next to her.

“Breathe, little L.” Mina grins, patting Hyun’s thigh. “It’s gonna be all good.”

“I’m full of doubt, friend,” Hyun sighs.

Mina intertwines their fingers and squeezes. “And I’m full of gummy worms and sarcasm. We’ll both get through today. Promise. Let me see your schedule.”

Hyun lets go of Mina’s hand to pull her schedule out of her pocket. She unfolds it and holds it next to Mina’s. They only have three periods together, but they’re AP Literature, Art, and lunch; so it somewhat makes up for it. One thought comes into Hyun’s mind, and before she can say anything about it Mina beats her to it.

“Now, I don’t have to go to your house to get paintings.”

“One, you never went to my house. I always went to yours.” Hyun scoffs with a frown itching to become a grin. “Two, do your own assignments, weeb.”

“Now why would I do my own assignments when you can do my own assignments so much better?” Mina smiles with all of her teeth and Hyun is filled with disgust at how much her heart swells with feelings of non-hate. 

“Whatever.”

Just like that, the bus ride is made less of a pain with Mina’s usual chatter. None of the things they talk about are of great importance. Mina seems to know that what Hyun needs to feel is complacent normalcy before being shoved into unfamiliarity, and she’s very willing to deliver. The air-conditioned bus helps her thoughts slow and stop clashing into each other, arranging themselves into some kind of order. She’s now able to recognize her own voice out of the group trying to crowd it out. She hears herself trying to self-comfort. Things are bearable for twenty minutes. 

Then, the bus stops and all of it’s happening too fast. They step off of the bus into the sweltering heat before heading into the building and back into air-conditioned bliss. Said bliss only lasts a moment before Mina is telling Hyun that she’ll take her to the office to be assigned an on account of being new before she has to rush off to homeroom. The two are only together for five more minutes and then Hyun is left alone in the office after Hyun pats her encouragingly and leaves. 

The office is too bright. White lights illuminate the commercial, orange-flecked carpet that is sliced in half by a wide, marble desk consuming most of the space. A rainbow of flyers are taped to the front and more are resting in wire bins atop the desk, along with a sleek desktop and a little silver bell. Hyun is reluctant to attract more attention than what is needed, but she doesn’t want to stand here forever. So, she taps the bell and waits a minute while a heavy set woman with a flaming red ponytail and cheeks to match makes her way from a back office to the front.

“What can I do for you, honey?” she asks with a jovial grin.

“I’m Young Lahyun. It’s my first day,” Hyun says, pausing, and then rolls her eyes at herself. “I mean, it’s everyone’s first day. Bu, it’s my first first day. Ever, you know? Like, I’ve never been to Real High School before and so it’s my first day in every sense of the word firs-”

“Got it, hon.” The woman interrupts with a forgiving smile. “You’re new. Very new. I guess you’ve never met a school secretary before then. We’re all bloodthirsty cultists. Watch out for Imogen. If she offers you her ‘red drink’, say no. Then run.”

Hyun hiccups and blinks. “That was a joke.”

“A bad one,” the woman smiles bigger and her shoulders shake in quiet laughter as she reaches for something below the desk. “Pumpkin, you are going to be just fine. If you ever need anything, just come find me. I’m Mrs. Q.”

“Okay.”

Mrs. Q hands her a packet of papers. She tells her to look them over while she gets her an . It’s more rainbow flyers. Clubs, sports, upcoming events, including homecoming. There’s also a map of the school which Hyun will likely have three inches from her face the second the leaves. Just thinking about being lost gives her anxiety. Some would reason that artists have great spatial intelligence and therefore are directionally inclined. Hyun would actually consider herself among the ranks of the directionally challenged. Seeing as she’s only ever been able to successfully find herself to Mina’s, the corner store, and her mailbox, directions make her nervous. Or maybe she’ll find that she’s great at directions and it’s actually the thought of where she’ll end up that induces panic. 

It’s wonderful that she’s discovering all of this out about herself, but it’s probably really weird for the boy whose been staring at her and waiting for a solid thirty seconds for Hyun to surface from her internal monologue. She realizes this with a pinch of mortification. 

“Hey,” she says, finally.

“Hey.” The boy is a sweeping six foot something. He has round, hazel eyes that are dwarfed behind thick glasses, a strong jaw, and black fringe falling into his eyes. “I’m Dom. You’re Hyun?”

“Yeah.” She nods in abashment.

“Sick name.” Dominic smiles. 

Hyun can’t help but smile back. “Thanks.”

“Can I see your schedule?” he asks, holding out his hand. Hyun gives it to him. He makes a thinking noise and nods to himself. Then he’s leading her out of the office with a salute to Mrs. Q, who waves her hand, throwing one last well wish Hyun’s way before they’re gone. 

This might be obvious, but everything is big. It feeds Hyun’s fear that she’s a small dot heading off to be swallowed whole by the long, wide halls. The lockers are red, the linoleum floor is a checkered pattern of creme and yellow, and Dom has a few brown freckles on his wrist. She’s not thinking farther than this until Dom's loping halts and Hyun looks up to realize they’re at the cafeteria. It’s empty seeing as it’s barely, one glance at a clock, 8.30 am. 

“It’s not fancy,” he says, sweeping a hand out in the vast space. “But, the food isn’t terrible and Penny usually gives you more than the sad styrofoam trays can handle. Just don’t sit at that one table next to the fire exit and you’re golden. That’s where Tannie and her flock sit. I don’t think she’s anybody to be scared of but she’ll probably talk about you in the bathroom or something if you do. Or write ‘dweeb’ with lipstick on your locker.  Girls do that stuff, right?”

Hyun has no idea. Dom is likely to know more about this stuff than her. She just shrugs, and he accepts it. He then takes her upstairs where most of her classes are, and to the third floor where she has Psychology. He also shows her the fieldhouse for gym, the locker rooms, the bookstore, the counseling offices, and the auditorium. He tells her that the trick to finding everything is remembering that the school is symmetrical; meaning if she’s looking for room 203 and she’s standing at 103, just go one floor up and she’ll be there. It doesn’t sound difficult to figure out.

“That’s pretty much it.” Dom claps his hands together and smiles down at Hyun. “You’ll get the hang of it. And if you do need some help…” He walks over to a locker and flattens Hyun’s schedule against it, taking a pen out of his pocket and scribbling some numbers. 

“Just text me.” He hands her schedule back to her and Hyun accepts it with a grin and a nod. 

“Thanks,” she says.

“No problem,” Dominic says back. “Oh, and that’s a sweet Dean shirt by the way. Whoremongers Anonymous meets every Tuesday and Thursday, probably starting in a week or so. We eat junk, listen to music, and just chill. It’s a fun time. Hit me up if you’re into that.”

“Are you serious?” Hyun breaks out into a genuine smile. “That sounds like the best time I’ve ever had. You’re gonna hear from me.”

“Nice.” Dom laughs. “Later, Hyun.”

“Later,” she says. 

He’s off down the hall before disappearing down the steps. Hyun turns around and starts heading for the bathroom when she can no longer hear heavy footsteps. In the bathroom, she takes a leak, fluffs her puff, and does breathing exercises. None of them work. It occurs to her in a whirlwind of apprehension that not everyone is going to be like Dom. Apparently someone named Tannie will throw her bookbag in the toilet or something if she sits at the wrong table. She’s all set to sit with Mina at lunch, but the thought is unnerving all the same. 

After four periods, lunch finally arrives. The thing is, Hyun isn’t even hungry. She takes one look inside the cafeteria: noise, people, more noise. Her stomach turns at the sight. She should’ve figured it would be like this. Obviously, she underestimated how overloaded her senses would be, and she only has a leg through the door. She moves out of the way when someone squeezes past her and heads up toward the library, hoping she remembers where it is.

She shoots Mina a quick text that she'll be in the library. And Mina texts back:

:):):) have fun with your books :):):)

Liked she had hoped, the library is cool, quiet, and near empty. She says hello to the librarian and finds a table near the back, next to the bathroom, and pulls out of her laptop. In the spirit of first day jitters, she listens to ‘Drowning’, the Whoremongers’ second full-length album, and doodles in her sketchbook. By the time two bells have rung, signalling the end of another half period, Hyun’s chest is settled. She’s even a little grateful that skipping lunch has made her hungrier because Chanyeol is supposed to be picking her up so she can get McDonald's.
 

ᴅ ᴇ ғ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ  ʀ ᴇ ᴊ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ s

It shouldn’t be a repeat of the sandbox and monkey bars from kindergarten. Hyun is seventeen, and Mina has her back. Instead of just talking about Hyun’s sad, seemingly one-sided inner turmoil on account of her budding relationship, they can talk about that weird thing trembling above Mr. Isaac’s lip that he refuses for whatever reason to shave off. Maybe it’s because those wisps are the only hair he has on the whole of his strange, hairless body. 

Regardless, walking into Real High School™ for the third week in a row is less of a nightmare. By now she can confidently say there are no jocks or queen es breaking out in song about all the ways they’ll torment Hyun for the next year. At least, there hasn’t been so far. Call it anticlimactic, but high school seems like a place where she’ll be left alone as long as she doesn’t intend on auditioning for the lead part in the Spring play or rendezvousing with the head cheerleader’s man. Partner activities and the repetition of ‘please come to the front and introduce yourself, Ms. Young’ are the hell she expected them to be; still, she can kick back in a corner for Art and work quietly, hang out with Mina at lunch, and sometimes Chanyeol picks her up from school. 

It’s a deal she can live with.

The most difficult hardship she faces comes in the form of a tiny (4’9, and Hyun thought she was short) German lady named Mrs. Ko. Even her counselor is laying it on light with college, reassuring her that the second deadline for most apps are not until December and January, some even later. She has time to breathe for a while. However, Mrs. Ko, her Ap Lit teacher, is a meddler. Hyun can’t even say she’s irritated or upset. Mrs. Ko is the type to smother people, uncomfortable but not ill-intentioned. Hyun was just doodling in the margins of her assignment when Mrs. Ko chirped on over. 

She hasn't left her alone since then. Every time she comes to class, there's a new pamphlet on her desk of some art school somewhere. Mrs. Ko must be convinced that if she doesn't say anything then Hyun is suppose to assume it's the ghosts. Which is actually a less terrifying assumption than her overly involved teacher, all things considered. 

There’s just one conversation still unspoken.

It’s only been two months since Hyun has left home. Of course her room is still the same. Cobwebs aren’t growing in the corners. Nothing has crawled in and claimed the underneath of her bed for a dwelling. The paint isn’t moldy and chipping. Her kool-aid blood stain is still there, a proud reminder of her having once lived here. Most of her sketches are still strung up on twine. Everything looks the same; except her bed is missing along with her dresser. Her window nook is pillowless and has lost its comforting appeal. 

She finds him in the kitchen with his #1 Pops apron on, making what looks like is going to be macaroni and cabbage. Something is bubbling in a pot and he’s grating a block of cheddar on the counter. If things were normal, Hyun would have been in the living room watching tv since before he started, trying to smell every bit of her dad’s cooking until the second it was done. The thing is, nothing’s normal anymore. Hyun isn’t coming from the bathroom. She’s coming from her mother’s house. It’s still too soon to call it home. For all she’s concerned, she is standing in her home; so the fact that it feels like unmarked territory is frightening. 

“Hey, babygirl.” Her dad smiles up at her, pausing his grating to open his arms for a hug. Hyun hates that she hesitates for even a second. To make up for her half a second of apprehension, she runs to him and hugs him harder for it. Without realizing, she’s suddenly crying and her chest aches the way it had when she found out. Her brain is telling her that something he consciously chose to hide  from her when Hyun was just a chubby toddler doesn’t change the person she’s always known. Her head knows this. It tells her that she’s being dramatic and it really has nothing to do with her. But, her heart is telling her that she lived her life thinking her mother hated her and abandoned her. She always thought it was her fault she was gone. Her fault, somehow. The fact that her dad never told her the truth is the reason why she’s so full of resentment she can’t even begin to sort it out. Her mother isn’t completely blameless, still. She didn’t want to leave, but obviously she didn’t want to come back. If not for herself, then at least for her kids. And Hyun has found herself torn between what she should feel and how she actually does feel.

“Why’d you never tell me?” Hyun wants to sound like she has it all together. She doesn’t want to sound like the broken little girl she is. Too bad she does anyway. Her whisper trembles in the air for a good ten seconds before she receives an answer.

“I wouldn't have even knew where to start, pumpkin,” he says, chin nuzzling into Hyun’s crown. She does what she can not to shatter into anymore pieces. This is the voice she wanted to hear for weeks despite something inside of her telling her she shouldn’t. And, somehow, these aren’t the words she thought she’d hear. “Then your mom called one day, and we talked...for hours. I can’t even remember about what. In the end, she said she wanted to come back and I knew it was already long past due. I would have liked Ben to let me do it. But, we never saw eye to eye. I won’t pretend that’s not my fault.”

“I know,” Hyun says, blinking away the tears. “I’m mad, upset, really hurt. But, I understand I’m also hungry. So, if we can stop hugging and get to cooking that’d be great.”

“I did all this to make myself feel better, but halfway through grating the cheese I realized I’m still a water burner.” Her dad pulls back and sighs at the mess he’s made trying to feed himself.

Hyun laughs and rubs his back. “I know you are, daddy.”