Monday morning, all the girls still have their hang over of the prom, as well as the couple of boys around the room. They were bickering and chatting obviously, about their crushes who asked them to dance and those who didn’t. I had been lucky enough not to get bullied, but not lucky enough for the people around me to be considerate and shut their mouth about the event that happened Friday night when I’m around earshot.

Min Jung, a friend of mine came rushing inside the room feeling a bit excited. I bet she’s dying to tell me that Sehun, her long time crush (since elementary, actually) asked him to dance. On normal circumstances, I might have spazzed with her but right now, I’m in no mood to talk about that , or tomorrow, or next year or maybe ever. As expected, she headed towards me and burst out, “Soonie –“

“What?” I snapped at her even before I could stop myself and before she can finish what she was about to say. She blinks several times before regaining her focus. “I –I just wanted to tell you that Mr. Kang is asking you to come to his office. He said he needs to tell you something. I think it’s important.” Her voice was barely audible but I heard her clearly. I suddenly feel guilty for bursting my frustration on her when clearly; she’s just a poor girl who was asked to go on errands that seemed like a battle and putting her in the frontline to fight in an exploding monster like me. I looked at her apologetically. “Thanks. I’ll go there now.” I said, touching her arms lightly and exiting the room.

Immediately, I thought of the things Mr. Kang would most likely talk to me about. Maybe he’ll tell me that I failed PE class –for goddamn’s sake, PE class! As if I need him to rub it in my face –I’ve had enough of the whole school gossiping about it.

I was about to hold the knob of the door when someone beat me out to it before I can even touch it. It was Kim Jongin. It was odd finding him in the faculty room since he’s not much of an to get reprimands and he is definitely not one with booming grades that would make him the teachers’ apple of the eye. So I find it odd that he is here. However, contrary to my curious gaze, he gave me an annoyed look. “Could you move out of the way?” he said, no, more like commanded. I realized I was blocking the small door for entrance and I immediately stepped out of the way. Geez! He could at least be nice about it. But then, I barely know the guy so I have no idea if he really is as rude as that or he’s just in a bad mood. I didn’t linger on this thought and I entered the office going straight to Mr. Kang’s table. I greeted him with a forced smile.

“Kyung-Soon.” He nodded his head and closed the class record he had been working on when I got to his table.

“Min Jung said you wanted to talk to me.” I stated matter-of-factly when he was staring at me longer than necessary. He cleared his throat. “Well, you must already know that you’re failing PE class this last quarter.”

“Yes.” I hissed bitterly. All thanks to your ridiculous project, I was forced to face this trepidation that might make me lose my career.

“Well I thought about it and decided I should give you a chance.” He beamed happily expecting me to jump up and down with gratefulness. However, he wasn’t getting any from me. I stared at him impassively giving off a look that says took-your-common-sense-long-enough-to-figure-that-out, sir.

He continued. “I’m going to give you a special project.” He stated in second attempt to receive gratefulness from me, still he got nothing.

Another one you should have figured out eons ago, I thought.

He paused eyeing me carefully, as if waiting for me to ask him about it. Why can’t he just spill the beans already and put this I’m-stating-my-proposition-little-by-little-just-to-build-up-some-suspense to rest? I crossed my arms over my chest impatiently. “What about it, sir?”

He started excitedly. “It’s simple: you just have to choreograph your own dance, with costume and then take a video of it then pass that video to me. Any type of dance will do.” I didn’t say anything, in amazement or in fury, it doesn’t make a difference. He continued, “But the dance steps have to be originally created by you. You can’t get it from any from TV performances or any girl groups.”

“Perhaps boy groups?” I offered innocently; though it was clear I was mocking him. He looked genuinely amused.”No, Kyung-Soon, of course not. Not from anyone.”

He didn’t get the point. I wanted to send a virtual smack in his spacious wide, shiny and bald forehead but he got up from his swivel chair and smiled at me broadly. “Good luck Kyung-Soon. I’m expecting so much from you. I’ll expect it in three weeks.” Then he walked off the room leaving me downbeat and hopeless altogether.

***

After school, I headed towards the studio that students use in rehearsing for projects or performances for upcoming events. Anyhow, the place is used for official school matters only. My business right now is ‘officially for project’ but I was welcomed by an earsplitting “As Long as You Love Me” by Justin Bieber and immediately hit by a wave of nausea. Okay, don’t get me wrong, I love JB and his songs (and his face!) but I never thought that I’d come to hate it when it was played so loud it literally pounds into my skull. Because the studio is soundproof, nobody cares or knows that the studio was practically being abused.

And the one responsible for it? Kim Jongin. His eyes are shut completely as if taking the music to heart –as if it’s a soothing music good enough for him to close his eyes. His face is so serene and no traces of the scowl he had given me a while ago are evident on his beautifully sculpted face. He didn’t acknowledged my presence or probably, he didn’t noticed me. I decided to settle for the latter. 
 

God, this guy will be needing his set of hearing aid sooner than my grandfather, I thought pessimistically.

“Could you lower down the volume a bit?!” I yelled over the loud thump thump thump of music that encloses the room. The guy didn’t budge a bit and I had to go to the speaker myself to turn the pounding music off. I rubbed my poor ear checking for damages where the speaker had been close enough to break my eardrums. I tried to speak to check if my right ear is still capable of doing its duties. Instead of hearing my own voice, it was overpowered by a loud, “Hey!”

He snapped his eyes open glaring defiantly at me before heading off towards the speaker to turn the music on. I stopped him by blocking his way through the speaker by the use of my body.

His annoyance grew more visible. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” I retorted mirroring his annoyed face with my own one.

He smacked his forehead in frustration. “The last time I checked,