Mi Kyong’s POV

I wake up to the blaring sound of my sister’s alarm clock. 5:30. Ugh, why does she have to get up so early to exercise? Geez. I bury myself under my blankets trying to drown out the sound and fall back asleep for what seems like two minutes when I feel someone poking my nose. I open my eyes and see a perfectly manicured nail. It’s 7:00 too soon.

“Wake up Mi Kyong!” Mi Cha, my twin sister giggles, already dressed. I sigh in jealously looking at her perfect teeth, wavy locks, not a hair out of place and her red plaid shirt and skinny jeans. Why does she get to look like a model and I’m stuck like a stick? I yawn and squint looking at my reflection. I have a streak of dried drool running down my face, my hair looks like birds wanted to build a nest in it and shudder.

Why can’t I be as pretty as Mi Cha? Everything seems to come easy to her; it’s not easy being compared to her. Every night I come home and my mother’s on the phone bragging about how Mi Cha has won this piano competition, or how she’s captain of the track team and how her team has taken yet another championship. Me? I’m just a simple down to earth girl. Truly, I stopped trying to fix myself up because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t match up to Mi Cha. Funny how my twin is much prettier than me even though we look almost the exact same. Somehow, she just is. The only thing that is almost identical about us is our deep brown eyes. I sigh and brush my hair, pulling it into a messy bun. I wash my face and brush my teeth, and then I put on my plain white tee and faded blue jeans.

“Yah! Mi Kyong, if you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late!” Mi Cha yells at me and I sigh.

“If by late you mean an hour early then yes, we’re going to be late.” I called back and Mi Cha shut up. She always liked to get to school an hour early to socialize with her friends while I hit the library. I only really have like Taeyeon and Victoria to talk to anyways. We’re the misfits as you might say. Taeyeon is a tomboy, down to the dress and the behavior, but has a killer eye for fashion. She’s often made fun of for her ajhumma like tendencies. Victoria is the transfer student from China; she’s actually quite pretty but got teased on her first day for her broken Korean. Since then she’s practiced almost every day and now she can speak Korean almost better than I can. I pick up my backpack and grab an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Bye mom.” I say, heading out the door.

“Bye sweetie, don’t forget to tell Mi Cha she has piano lessons tonight.” Mom calls after me and I sigh. It’s always Mi Cha this, Mi Cha that. She never mentions me. Mi Cha honks her horn at me as I open the door and sit in the passenger seat.

“Mom told m