it’s all coming back to me now

kids say the darnedest things

***

Kids say the darnedest things.

“I. Want. To. Poop. Here.”

And Wendy has resigned herself to the wishes of her sister’s unpredictable bowel movement.

“Fine. Go. Make it quick or you’re going to be late for training!”

“My poop doesn’t care about time!”

Wendy groans into the steering wheel as her best friend explodes into a fit of laughter in the passenger seat. She flinches when the door slams nauseatingly loud upon her sister’s departure, the pounding in her head growing in increments. It doesn’t help that her best friend still hasn’t winded down from her combined snorting and laughing.

Hangover is a nasty .

“Oh my God, Seul, I’m kicking you out if you don’t stop.”

“Okay, alright, I’m stopping.” Seulgi relents, swiping the tears at the corner of her eyes. She wrinkles her nose in amusement. “You’re pretty grouchy for someone who got some last night.”

The nausea building up Wendy’s throat is replaced by a warm sensation rumbling down somewhere down below. Blood rushes to her previously ashen face, recalling the adventurous hands and velvety lips of a girl she wouldn’t have given a second thought if she weren’t under the heavy influence of alcohol. It was a terrifying nightmare and a forbidden dream morphed into a single night.

She turns to her window, head still resting on the steering wheel.

“No clue to what you’re insinuating, Kang Seulgi.”

“Classic avoidance 101. Deceive me all you want, Wan, but the button of your jeans was propped open when you got into Sehun’s car.”

“Maybe I came from the bathroom?”

“While smelling like someone’s perfume?” Wendy could hear the disbelief in Seulgi’s tone, mocking her for having the audacity to unabashedly deny the facts Seulgi has witnessed with her own two sober eyes. Lucky bastard was the designated driver, or she would’ve been plastered on the floor had she not monitored herself. She pokes Wendy lightly on the rib. “You were a walking evidence, Wendy Shon.”

Oh, who was she fooling. Her collarbone is a showcase piece for a moderately sized hickey, which she immediately dismissed as some weird bug bite even though Tiffany looked at her funny during breakfast. But this is Seulgi after all, her childhood best friend. She should just come clean.

Sighing, Wendy goes, “You got me. Whatever. We just made out.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Because once the air had cleared wherein lust wasn’t clouding their vision, their identities clicked in their brains, and in an instant, they had wordlessly separated themselves from the other. The girl had hastily scrambled off of Wendy’s lap and beelined for the bedroom door. Wendy remained on the edge of the mattress, flushed and bewildered at how she almost managed to literally sleep with the enemy.

Seulgi thankfully doesn’t pose any follow-up questions that would have forced Wendy into taking a drive into memory lane, something she would rather not relive regardless of the very enticing inappropriate images haunting her subconscious.

Minutes later, they arrive at the venue of her sister’s soccer practice, handing the eight year-old into the care of Hyoyeon. Sehun catches up with them at the bleachers to complete their trio. When the coach shoos them away for distracting the kids with their stupid jokes that carries over into the field, Sehun suggests a milktea run to pass the afternoon. He has promised to pay so the obvious answer is yes.

“Wendy!” Seulgi jumps in her seat of the milktea shop, earning eyebrow raises from the surrounding patrons. “Hyo-unnie texted me that your sister got into a fight.”

Sehun’s eyes twinkle in youthful ardor. “A catfight?”

Wendy thumps him at the back of his head. “My sister is eight, you moron.”

“Ow, I thought she meant Fany, okay.”

“She’s out shopping with a friend.” Wendy enlightens him. Taking their sister to soccer practice was Tiffany’s job on the weekends. Her sneaky older sister had meticulously plotted her escape from their home after breakfast, to befall the task of driving their younger sister on a very hungover Wendy.

The feeling has since subsided, but she’s still upset Tiffany left her for slashed department store prices.

“Shouldn’t you be alarmed?” Sehun inquisitively gapes at Wendy when she doesn’t appear to have a sense of urgency in her actions.

She waves him off. “Kids always get into fights.”

“I don’t think this is my sister texting anymore.” Seulgi remarks, her focus on her phone, all the while trying to multitask with sipping on her drink but failing as the stray keeps on swaying around the rim of the cup whenever her lips get to it. “Yeah, this isn’t unnie. This has way too many emojis—oh! I’m right. New message says this is her friend, Sooyoung.”

“Why’s her friend texting for her?” Wendy is already balancing her wallet and keys in one hand, preparing to vacate the establishment. She waits for her friends by the entrance.

“Uhh,” Seulgi squints at the screen as she walks over to Wendy, Sehun trailing closely. She silently reads the stream of messages, ping after ping going off in rapid succession. A worried gasp escapes from . “Sooyoung is helping unnie nurse her bloody nose. The kids apparently elbowed her by accident, and they’re still at it on the field.”

Okay, Wendy is alarmed.

Embarrassed by her sister’s behavior and enraged by the situation getting out of hand, she marches to her car with furious steps, hellbent on giving that kid an earful the second she gets ahold of her. She slams her foot on the gas, Seulgi and Sehun hanging on to their dear lives. They return to the field in record-breaking speed.

From a distance, they could spot children huddling around an obscured scene. Hyoyeon and who Wendy assumes to be Sooyoung, emerge from wherever they got the ice pack for Hyoyeon’s bruised nose. They part the kids as the three of them tread closer. Instead of the sport Wendy herself has been more than acquainted with, a wrestling match between two children is taking place on the grassy patch.

“Rosie, let her go!” Wendy attempts to yank her sister away from her opponent, but she completely underestimates the strength of an eight year-old’s limbs, Rosie’s arms refusing to release the ball the kids must have been fighting over. “Chaeyoung!”

The other kid seems to be younger than Rosie. Her pigtails are askew, strands of her hair straying from the scuffle. She may be smaller in size, but Wendy inwardly commends her for the fiery dedication she has to rid Rosie of the ball. So much power packed into a child. While impressive, Wendy needs to put an end to this before adding another casualty.

“Roseanne!”

At the mention of her full English name, Rosie snaps out of her rage. She unhands the ball, the other kid tumbling backwards at the sudden loss of resistance. Rosie crawls to Wendy. Grass and dirt stick to her skin, a frown marring her lips. “She started it! She started it! She started it!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Backtrack from the very beginning.”

Behind them, Wendy hears a familiar female voice calling out for someone named Yeri. She’ll apologize for the trouble once she finishes listening to her younger sister’s side of the story. She helps Rosie into a standing position, and she crouches down so that they are at eye-level.

“Tell me what happened, Chaeng.”

“We were playing fair and square like Hyo-unnie told us to, but then, she tripped me, unnie! Yeri tripped me with her shoe! It was a foul, but she got away with it ‘cause Hyo-unnie didn’t saw. Then I had to do a free kick and, uh, hit her head by accident.”

Wendy doubts the last bit of her explanation. Rosie has a good aim for her age, a feat they inherited from their athletic parents. “Was it really an accident?”

“She…she started it! Then she said it was their ball ‘cause I hitted her, but it’s not unnie, it’s not!”

Playing peacemaker isn’t up Wendy’s alley. This is more of Tiffany’s expertise. But since Tiffany is nowhere in their vicinity, Wendy will have to be the one to make amends on her sister’s behalf. Their parents can do the scolding tonight.

Hyoyeon has rounded up the rest of the kids in a lecture about sportsmanship, maybe setting aside a private conversation for Rosie and Yeri later before adjourning their session. Sehun and Seulgi are conversing with Sooyoung and a second girl equally as tall but visibly younger. If her hearing is correct, that person is also named Sooyoung.

Wendy feels a finger gently prodding at her shoulder for her attention, and she stands up to meet who she expects to be Yeri’s guardian. What she doesn’t expect is to be face-to-face with none other than S University’s most sought-out midfielder, hair tied up in a messy bun.

Who also happens to be the same person she had straddling on her lap less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Um, aren’t you—”

“I would like to say sorry for the ruckus my sister, Yeri, has caused today.” Bae Irene bows down to her in a sincere apology, her younger sister clawing at the hem of her button-down shirt and hiding at her back. She is unperturbed by Wendy’s presence, facial features not telling of any indication that she has recognized her beyond their collegiate soccer tournaments.

Is this a sign she has forgotten?

“I’m sorry for what Rosie did as well.” Wendy responds to the apology. But her mind swerves to the heated events of last night, the addicting feel of her lips, the smoothness of her skin, how she had moaned into her collarbone and tattooed her mark there for everyone to behold—

“Weren’t you at Kim Yongsun’s party yesterday?”

The words have impulsively slip out of Wendy’s mouth.

She couldn’t contain the curiosity. Is Wendy really that forgettable to her? Or is she pretending for the sake of her pride? Irene didn’t have a lot to drink from their time together. She was all giggly and tinged in pink, sure, but she did have the energy in her legs to run away and abandon Wendy high and dry.

It’s a simple yes or no question. Wendy isn’t asking for her to elaborate. It also wouldn’t be advisable to be speaking of such mature details in front of elementary school children. Acknowledging Irene was there would mean she acknowledges what occurred between them, and Wendy would respect her if she preferred it to be water under the bridge.

“Well..? Were you at the party?” Wendy repeats her question.

“Party?” Irene tilts her head like the gray bunny rabbit Rosie used to have when she was five. The cute gesture is paired with an indifferent scoff that pierces Wendy’s nerves. “I wasn’t at a party last night, Wendy Shon.”

Wendy scoffs back at her.

You were the one who dragged me into the room!

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