At home after school, I had only my nagging mind to keep me company. I questioned whether Minyoung was right about me. If she thought I should just fade into the background, is that what everyone thought? Was I just a vase or knickknack on the shelf of the rest of humanity?

It wasn't like I needed to be in the spotlight. I'd never be the star of a ballet recital or step-dance captain like Minyoung, and that was okay. So why did I feel the need to keep trying to compete at that level?

I didn't, I decided. Who needed that superstar stuff? Not me. I could be happy in the background if I didn't always see it as such a bad place to be. I set the brown cardboard box with my new camera on my bed and flipped through the instructions.

Mom and Dad wouldn't be home for hours. After some water damage to our house three years ago, my parents had to put the whole repair amouth on their credit cards. Mom increased her hours to full-time at the nursing home and Dad started working overtime at least a couple of days per week to keep up with the bills. Even if it was my birthday, I knew it was just what they had to do.

But I did take offense that Minyoung had after-school plans that she though were much more important than me. It had been only a couple of years ago when she'd rushed home to pin up ballons and hide my gifts.

But she was busy and popular now, and I knew I should be happy for her. I was happy for her. Except that sometimes I wasn't.

I flipped ahead a few pages in the camera manual until I found the instructions for loading the film. They seemed easy enough to understand. Following step by step, I insterted a roll of film.

When I picked up the loaded camera, its weight made it feel important. As I ran my hand over the buttons at the top, my brain surged on how intricate and stimulating and inventive photography could be.

In the instructions I found a layout of how to adjust the amought of light that came through the lends, and thought back to a picture Teacher Ahn had drawn in art class of a big house with an eerie shaded quality. At the time, I'd done my best to copy it, but my drawing had turned into a muted mess of colors. It was completely unrecognizable.

A photography. Now that you could recognize without even trying.

Even though I heard Minyoung come in sometime after dinner, I was absorbed and didn't bother opening my door. I fell asleep with the camera on my chest, the instructions spread across my bed like a treasure map. There was so much more to play around with than on Mom's little digital point-and-shoot model.

The next morning my birthday disappointments had vanished and I woke up with a smile on my face, thinking:

I have a cool new camera.

The camera was a gift from my sister and Nichkhun.

Nichkhun sat with me, smiled at me and winked at me during my birthday lunch.

Why did I always have to focus on the negative, on all the ways that my life wasn't good enough?

Two jocks stood right inside the school's front entrance when I walked in. They laughed and said something I couldn't hear as I walked past. Normally I would have wanted to be swallowed up by my hoodie, but today their reaction made me pull my shoulders back and walk a little taller.

When Myungsoo arrived at his locker, he focused on his books, not even saying hello. I tried not to take it as a snub. It probably had nothing to do with me. Maybe he was just incredibly shy and I'd have to work a little harder at getting him to talk to me ecah day.

The idea made me smile. That could be kinda fun.

I turned, about to open my mouth, when he said, "Did your highlighter explode?" 

He gestured to my shirt- a gray tee with a big orange blob that said SPLAT across it. "That happened to me once, only mine was green and went all over my hands."

He said it with such a straight face, it took me a second- and a twitch at the side of his mouth- to realize he was joking. He wasn't that shy, it just took him a little while to start a conversation. We were similar that way- not quick-mouthed like Soyeon.

I nibbled the inside of my cheek, holding back a smile.

"Or maybe you just told people it was your highlighter after a really big sneeze."

His stoicism was no match for my dry humor. He reached up like he was wiping his mouth, but I caught the edges of a smile there first. I liked how he didn't hand his smiles over easily. How he was making me earn them.

"Later," I said, waving a hand over my head as I spun and headed off to class.

All through English I noticed weird looks shooting on way from people I had never spoken to before. Jocks. Cheerleaders.

A folded turquoise paper was making its way around the room and I wondered if that had something to do with it, since the note conveniently bypassed me.

Seriously, what were we, in sixth grade? I had more important things to think about than if people were sending around notes "Jiyeon had plastic surgery" or whatever. I still had to tweak the last paragraph of my essay before handing it in. Grow up, people.

Thankfully our teacher quickly took over, and I didn't think about the strange looks again until drama.

A lot students take Teacher Ahn's drama class because it's nonthreatening. He rarely calls on students who wants to fly under his radar, and likes to work with those who participate. They kid who love to get involved sit in the front, people like Soyeon, who's about as shy as a tornado.

And I'd always sat with her. But today she leaned in, murmuring with Boram and two other guys. Maybe my insecurity had risen because of the weird looks in English class, but I immediately wondered if it was about me. Soyeon had temper tantrums, yes, but I'd always let her cool off. She was obviously no longer the object of anyone's scorn after yesterday's lunch episode, judging by all of the people huddled around her. So the whispering probably had nothing to do with me, I reasoned silently. I was overreacting.

I in a breath and marched for my usual seat beside Soyeon. She didn't look my way, but with the giggling going on between her and her crew, I didn't really know if she'd noticed me.

Turning to the back of the room, I found Myungsoo and gave him a little wave. He returned it, along with a few scrunches of his nose- like he was going to let go of a really big sneeze- and then checked out his shirt and his hands to see if anything had exploded on them. I laughed quietly.

I'd never considered myself one of the nonparticipators like him- I'd always sat in the front- but now that I thought about it, when was the last time I'd volunteered for one of the drama games? The most I ever did was call out prompt suggestions when Teacher Ahn asked for them.

Maybe I was more like Myungsoo than I realized.

The group around Soyeon dispersed to their seats when Teacher Ahn started class with a long spiel about this year's play. Soyeon watched our teacher intently, nodding her head at regular intervals. She looked consumed with thoughts of getting a good part in the play, and I was glad that she'd forgotten yesterday's outburst.

Except she leaned in her seat to angle toward Boram and away from me. I heard whispering from behind me, from the guys she'd been talking to. Something wasn't right. I could feel it.

By the time the bell rang at the end of class, Soyeon had not looked in my direction once. I tried to keep talking myself down about it, but when she stood and turned for the door, I decided I needed to know if she was still mad.

"Hey, Soyeon..." I said.

She stood with her back to me for several seconds so I couldn't read her.

"I'm, um, sorry about yesterday," I said. Because I was. Even though there was nothing I could have done about it, I did feel bad that Minyoung and Minhae had embarrassed her in front of everyone. 

"My sister and her friends.. they can be like that," I added.

Soyeon turned around slowly, her eyes narrowing. "So now everything's your sister's fault?"

"That's not what I meant. I-"

She cut me off, slapping a turquoise paper down on the desk in front of me. Then, with a smirk, she spun toward the door and marched away.

I flipped over the paper and my eyes widened at the lines of the text. This was the sixth grade! Literally.

Soyeon had printed off a quiz- a private quiz- I'd done at least five years ago when we emailed each other almost every day. She'd obviously copied it on bright paper so it wouldn't be missed. I gripped the edge of my desk and stared down at the list.

Most of them were lame questions about favourite movies and books, and there was nothing too embarrassing. Except for the last three:

Have you kissed a boy? NO! But WANT to!

Have you ever had a boyfriend? Sadly, no.

If you could kiss a boy, who would it be?

***NICHKHUN BUCK HORVEJKUL***

The asteriks were mine, along with Google Image of a pair of pursed lips I'd included at the bottom. If the header of my email adress wasn't enough to identify me, Soyeon had scribbled the words 'YOUR SISTER'S BOYFRIEND, JIYEON? 'right underneath. Of course it didn't mention that Minyoung didn't even know Nichkhun know when I'd answered this.

My face burned. How many people had seen the paper this morning?

For the rest of the day, my agenda was this: Avoid Soyeon, avoid Minyoung, and hopefully-please, God- avoid Nichkhun. It will blow over in a few days, I told myself again and again under my breath. I avoided people's eyes in the hallways and ignored their whispers in my classes.

The only person I came face-to-face with was Myungsoo.

He gave me a playful nudge with his elbow at our lockers. Because I was off in another world, I lost my balance.

"Ha, ha," I said, righting myself, but truthfully, after holding in my frustration and embarrassment all day, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

"Don't tell me you don't know your own strength," I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster to cover up my fragile emotional state. As soon as it left my mouth, though, I wondered if it might have sounded pretty mean.

But he came back quickly with, "Is that an invitation for an arm-wrestle?" He lifted his eyebrows a couple of times in quick succession.

I my finger and striped it in the air, giving him one point, mostly for distracting me and bringing a smile back to my face. He closed his locker.

"Later," he said on his way to his next class.

At least he hadn't said anything about the turquoise paper. But the more I thought about it, he'd have to know someone who was passing around a copy to actually see it.

I spent the lunch hour alone on the grass outside the back of the school, and after last class I left the building before the bell finished ringing, my book back already packed for home. 

I sulked quietly in my room for about an hour before a faint tap sounded from the bathroom joined my room on one side and Minyoung's on the other.

I swallowed. I hadn't heard Minyoung downstairs and I'd assumed- hoped- she had after-school plans.

"Come in," I murmured.

Minyoung pushed through the door with a mug in her hand. Her head tilted to side in concern, and in a second I knew she'd seen the turquoise paper. And worse, she wasn't mad. Not at all. She pitied me.

I chafed a finger back and forth over the edge of my thumbnail. I didn't want Minyoung and her perfect world any near me right now.

"I heard about what happened," she said, in this caring voice that reminded me of when we were younger. It was nothing like her strong and confident school voice, the voice she'd used at the lunch table yesterday. I don't know how she pulled off a dual personality like that.

She held the mug out toward me and I noticed a few magazines in her other hand. "That Soyeon really doesn't know when to stop."

After a long second, I took the mug from her, smelling the sweat chocolate steam, and placed it on my nightstand without taking a sip. "Thanks." I said.

She sat beside me on my bed. Years ago, Minyoung laid on my bed daily, flipping through fashion magazines, going through quizzes, or asking my opinion on things, even though it was obvious way back then that she had better taste.

Silence fell between us. I think we both knew we wouldn't be able to bond over stupid magazines anymore. But sitting with her did make me feel a little bit better.

Minyoung put her hand on my knee. "It'll be okay, Yeonnie. It will."

The moment was sweet, like we'd gone back in time together. She wasn't this popular, perfect person. She was just my sister. My sister who would make things better with Soyeon if I asked her to. Heck, she'd probably even break up with Nichkhun if that's what would make me happy.

There's something peaceful about knowing that someone cares more about you than anything else in the world.

Even if it is only for a moment.