He led me back to the hallway and I noticed Ara Cha waiting patiently outside the door.  She smiled when she saw us and joined us on our way back to class, talking amiably.  We reached the classroom and Ara Cha went in first, followed by Mr. Lee and then me at the end.  I avoided the curious stares.

                “Everybody, this is Jung Jin Haneul.  She recently moved here from America.  Please take care of her,” Mr. Lee introduced me.

                “Annyeong haseyo.  Please be nice to me,” I curtsied, changing the standard Korean greeting.  I didn’t need anyone to take care of me.

                “Jin Haneul, you can sit there next to Jo Youngmin,” Mr. Lee said, pointing to a seat near the window.

                A boy with blond-bleached hair raised his hand casually in response, a smirk playing on his lips.  I sat down, dipping my head slightly in greeting.

                School wasn’t bad, I was happy.  The kids were nice to me and I gained a few acquaintances.  I hadn’t been too confident in my Korean, but many people seemed impressed with my handle on it, especially when they found out how long I’ve been learning it.

                “How many languages can you speak?” one girl asked.

                “I can speak English, Spanish, Japanese, and now Korean,” I divulged shyly.

                My listeners’ eyes widened.  I quickly explained that English was my first language and I’d been taking Spanish since Elementary School.  Japanese I began studying on my own when I was twelve.

                “How old are you now?” another person asked.

                “I turned fifteen in July,” I told.

                And that was how most of my conversations went.  I had been afraid that the students would stay away from me because I was a foreigner.  On the contrary, they were interested in the stories I had to tell about my adventures in America and my experiences and the different life-styles in the states.  There were a few people who steered clear of me, but it was only a small number.  However, one person in particular stood out to me that I wanted to talk to, Jo Youngmin.  He seemed like a nice, funny person, but he didn’t even try to talk to me.  I felt disappointed.  And because he showed no interest in me, I knew that no friendship would form between us.  It was difficult for me to talk to cute guys, and Youngmin was very cute.

                The school day ended and I walked back home, happiness and contentment filling my heart.  My mom was waiting for me at home and, when I told her about my day, she smiled, relief evident on her face.

                “I’m glad you were able to make friends quickly,” she said.  Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had feared about that.

                “Well, they’re not friends yet, but I think they will be soon.  Everyone is so nice and accepting…” My smile faded just a little bit.  “Except, there is this one kid who won’t talk to me.  His name is Jo Youngmin.  His twin brother, Kwangmin, came up to me and introduced himself and said hi, but Youngmin pretended to be busy.”

                “Oh, baby!  I’m sorry!” My mother’s face drooped in sorrow, taking me into her arms for a comforting hug.  I wasn’t sure who she was trying to comfort, me or herself.

                I waved her off, wishing I hadn’t said anything.  “It’s okay, it’s just one person.”  My mother didn’t look convinced.

                Telling her I wasn’t hungry, I rushed up to my room, pulling out my sketch pad.  It was a sort of journal.  Instead of writing down what happened in a day, I drew pictures.  my graphite pencil, I closed my eyes, recalling a face from that day.  It came back to me, crisp and clear –the gentle curve of his jaw line, the long dark eyelashes, the impatient sweep of his hair to the right.  Working quickly, a picture formed beneath the tip of my pencil.

                I checked my clock and nearly fell out of my chair.  It was past midnight.  I packed away my art supplies and turned off the light.  As I pulled the blankets to my chin, I thought about Young Min and wondered if I would ever be able to get to know him.

                Sleepily walking to school, a war raged inside my head.  Do I confront Youngmin and try to gain his friendship?  Or do I leave the matter alone and walk away?  I tugged at my skirt for the nth time.  I’d forgotten to lengthen it the night before.  Tonight, there was no way I could get distracted tonight.  I had responsibilities. 

                “What’s wrong with your skirt?” a voice above my shoulder asked.

                Surprised, I looked up into the curious eyes of a dyed blond-haired boy.

                “Annyeong haseyo,” I greeted politely with a shy smile.  “How are you today, Youngmin?”

                “I’m doing well.  Now what’s wrong with your skirt?” he repeated.  “You keep tugging at it.”

                I shifted uncomfortably, taken aback at his forwardness.  “It’s too short,” I confided softly.

                He peered at the skirt again, as if mentally measuring it.  I wished her would look away.

                “It looks long enough to me,” he stated.

                Afraid to stand out like a freak, I said, “Maybe I’m just not used to it yet.  Where I went to school in America, I could wear jeans.”

                We lapsed into silence as we walked the last black to the school.

                “Hey, I’m sorry for yesterday,” he spoke up suddenly.  “It was an off day.  I’m usually friendlier than that.”

                I shrugged it off, as if I hadn’t even noticed it before.  “Arraseo, I’m glad you talked to me today, though,” I said, smiling.  Then I looked around, a sudden thought coming to mind.  “Where is your brother?  Kwangmin, right?  Do you two usually leave separately?”

                Youngmin shook his head.  “No, we usually go together, but I decided to leave early today so I could apologize.”

                My shy, small smile grew.  “Thank you,” I said genuinely.  “It really means a lot to me.”

                The boy cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking away, digging his hands in his pockets.  “So, what was your first impression of the school?”

                “Lot’s of stares,” I blurted out.  Surprised at myself, I clamped my hands to my mouth, eyes wide.

                Youngmin laughed.  It was a nice true laugh, it didn’t fake at all.  I smiled beneath my hands.

                “Mianhae,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.  “You’re face was priceless!”

                A few more bursts of laughter escaped his throat before he could compose himself once again.  I gave a short, embarrassed chuckle.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not usually so forward like that.”

                “It’s totally fine.  But ‘lot’s of stares?’  Why did you say that?  What does that even mean?”

                I knew my face was beet-red and I looked down, my hair covering his view of my face.  “Everyone was staring at me really intently.  It was disconcerting,” I mumbled.  “You’d think they’d never seen a blonde before.”

                “Maybe they haven’t,” Youngmin confided.

                “But you have blonde hair,” I pointed out.

                His hand went to his head, his fingers running through the longish strands.  “I mean naturally blonde.  This is bleached.  Besides, it’s the whole foreign thing going on.  Blue eyes, fair skin, even your nose looks different.  Then when they hear your accent, it’s no wonder they stare.”

                You didn’t, I thought to myself.  Then, aloud, wanting the conversation to get away from me, I changed the subject.

                Cocking my head to the side, I curiously looked up at him.  “What is your original hair color?”

                He shrugged.  “The same color as everyone else –brown.”  He almost said it with disgust.  Almost, not quite.

                “I’ve found that there are all different shades of brown here,” I told.  “Like Ara Cha-ah’s hair is so dark, it looks black, but not quite.  And Jong Yun’s hair is significantly lighter.  Then there’re people like Kwangmin, your brother.  His hair looks, well not exactly like dark chocolate, that’s too cliché, but close to it.”

                Youngmin laughed at the analogy.  “Isn’t that color supposed to represent eyes?  I don’t think I’ve heard it used for hair before.”

                I blushed again.  “You never answered my question.”  We were now inside the school and we had stopped at his locker.

                “What question was that?”

                “What is your natural hair color?”

                “I guess it looks like Kwangmin’s,” he replied casually.

                I smiled.  “So you have dark chocolate hair, too?”

                The boy mimicked my smile.  “I suppose so.  Where’s your locker?”

                “This way.”  I directed him towards the left and down the hall.  “How did you get your hair such a light color when it was so dark?”

                “It was done very skillfully,” he grinned mischievously, as if he was referring to an inside joke that I wasn’t a part of.  Unexpectantly, he made a show of looking around us.  “You were right, you do attract a lot of stares.”

                Surreptitiously, I peered around at all of the curious faces.  A significant difference was made evident.  

                “Some of them look angry,” I observed quietly.

                “Don’t pay them any mind,” Youngmin encouraged.

                He placed an arm protectively around my shoulders, holding me closer to him, as if that would keep me away from the intense gazes.  The glares worsened and I shoved Young Min away.

                “Stop it!” I cried out.  “What are you doing?”

                Looking caught off guard, the boy remained speechless.  His mouth hung open, lips moving, forming silent words.

                “Mianhae,” I averted my gaze, “I have to go.”

                I rushed away from Youngmin, hurt.  Why did all of the cute guys have to turn out to be jerks?  If he wanted a girlfriend, there were plenty of prettier girls than me around.  Then I scoffed at myself.  Of course he didn’t want me as his girlfriend, it was silly of me to assume.  He probably just didn’t like foreigners taking his popularity.  I did get many acquaintances the other day, most of them likely regular company for him.  He might be trying to get the other girls jealous so they would stay away from me, leaving me friendless in a strange place.  I gritted my teeth, determined not to let that happen.  I sat in my chair, not looking up when Youngmin occupied the seat next to me a short time later.

                Class started and I became immersed in my work.  Thoughts of Youngmin were pushed aside as I concentrated on the math problems in front of me.  One by one, the subjects took us later into the day.  When English started I found my mind wandering.  I already knew the rules Mr. Lee was teaching.  I took out a notebook and started doodling on the paper, correctly answering the questions I was asked without difficulty.  My hand flitted across the page, drawing random images –a bird, a willow tree, a lily- sketching out and then shading.  I was unaware of the pair of eyes glancing towards me every few minutes.

                The bell rang for lunch and I quickly put my notebook away.  I left the classroom to explore the school, politely declining Ara Cha-ah’s invitation to eat with her.  As I wandered the nearly deserted hallways, a flock of girls crowded around me.  My initial thoughts of assuming they wanted to be my friends were swept away by their deadly expressions.  Realizing they had me pinned against the wall, I racked my brain for a way to get out of this mess.  Really, it was only my second day of school.  How could I have already caused trouble?

                “I know you are new here and don’t understand the rules,” one girl –the leader?– scowled, “but there is one thing you should know.  Stay away from Jo Youngmin.  He’s not yours and never will be.”

                “Mianhae,” I replied sweetly, “but I fail to see how who I talk to could be any of our business.  If Youngmin wants to talk to me, then I reserve the right to start a conversation.  If I choose not to, then that is my decision.  Don’t try to threaten me with pathetic words.”

                The girl’s face tuned red with anger.  “We tried to warn you nicely, but you obviously need more persuasion.”

                She grabbed my wrist and my reflexes took over.  Twisting my arm, I yanked my arm out of her grip.  The girl retracted her hand, rubbing her own wrist.

                “Don’t touch me.”  My voice was low and dangerous.

                Two more girls stepped forward, trying to lay their perfectly manicured hands on me.  They didn’t even come close.  I sidestepped them easily, twisting this way and that, avoiding them.  It couldn’t last long.  More girls converged, leaving me less room to move.  I couldn’t fight back, not really, not if I wanted to stay at this school.  An arm shoved me up against the wall, pinning me.  I struggled to get away, to slip through a gap, but there were none.  Closing my eyes, I braced myself for the beating, waited for the punches, already trying to decide the best way to cover the bruises that were sure to come afterwards.

                But the blows never came.  I didn’t feel any punches.  Indignant and surprised cries sounded all around me.  The arm holding me against the wall was away roughly.  I opened my eyes.  Youngmin stood in front of me, eyes blazing as he shoved the girl away.  Most of the crowd had already dispersed.  My heart hammered in my chest from the intense situation –not because Young Min was there.

                “Girls like you are what I hate the most,” Youngmin seethed through clenched teeth.  “Why don’t you stop bullying new girls and mind you own business?”

                He took my hand and pulled me from the group and let me away.  Once we turned a corner, I wrenched my hand from his.

                “What is wrong with you?”  I tried to keep my voice down, but the anger built up inside me made that difficult.  How dare he come to my rescue like some blessed hero?

                Youngmin’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Mwo?”

                “What business is it of ours to interfere with things?”  My voice barely held a normal volume.

                “What business…?” he spluttered.  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I just saved you!”  His arms flung back, indicating the way we had just come from.  “If I hadn’t shown up, you would have been beaten to a pulp!”

                I shoved him away.  “I can handle myself!”

                He gave a short, dark chuckle.  “Yeah, ‘cause you totally had that under control.”

                I growled at him.  “Leave me alone,” I said, my soft voice boiling with anger.  “I don’t need a pretty boy like you.  Your type just brings trouble wherever you go.”  I turned away from him, walking down the hall.

                “Yah!  What did they want?”  Youngmin called out to me.

                Whirling around, I glared at him.  “They were warning me to stay away from you.  Believe me, they have nothing to worry about.”

                With that, I my heel and left him standing alone in the middle of the hallway.  The classroom was half full and I quickly sat at my desk.  A few kids came up to me and we started talking.  These girls were much nicer than the ones from before.  I enjoyed talking with them.  I was so caught up in the conversation that I almost didn’t notice when Youngmin came in the room with Kwangmin and a girl named Hye Soo.  I supposed by the way they were holding hands that Kwangmin and Hye Soo were dating.

                The bell rang and students returned to their seats.  Unable to resist a glance, my eyes darted over to Youngmin.  He was openly staring at me, but when our eyes met, we both looked away, returning our attention to Mr. Lee.  We started on the Korean language and I groaned inwardly.  I could speak Korean, but it was still difficult for me to read and write.  Despite immersing myself in my work, I quickly lagged behind the others, struggling.  I felt inadequate.  It didn’t help that my mind kept wandering back to Youngmin.  I didn’t even know why I blew up at him, I just did, but now I felt guilty.  I resolved to apologize after school.  Feeling slightly better, I concentrated on my school work.