The following Monday, I was in a wonderful mood. I had less than four weeks left before the “big break-up”, and I was in the process of acing my first test in algebra.

The bell rang before I was completely finished, but I didn’t care. Being a little late for my next class was a small price to pay for an A. I was alone in the room, since everyone else had left.

I started on the last problem, wanting to have my test completed before Junhyung arrived for trig. For some reason, I found it hard to concentrate when he was around. The last problem was simple and soon I folded my paper, wrote my name on it and laid it on Mr. Heo’s desk. Then I scooped up my books wadded up the sheet of scrap paper I had used for figuring and tossed it over my head in a hook shot as I passed the wastebasket.

But the small metal wastebasket was already overflowing and my ball of crumpled paper rolled off the top of the pile and onto the floor. I picked it up and put it back into the wastebasket, packing it down with my foot. The paper stayed in. So did my foot.

I groaned inwardly. Wonderful. Yong Junhyung would be walking through the door at any minute, and my foot was stuck in a wastebasket. I tugged on the wastebasket as hard as I could, but my hands kept slipping on the smooth metal. Then I tried shaking the basket off, but the rubber sole of my high-top sneaker was wedged tightly against the sides. It wouldn’t budge.

“Yoseob?” called a voice behind me.

“Oh!” I jumped at the sound. “Hi, Junhyung. I didn’t hear you come in.” Somehow I managed to sound perfectly calm. If I could just act natural, maybe Junhyung wouldn’t notice the wastebasket.

“How did you do on your algebra test?” he asked.

I was surprised that he remembered the test. “Fine. I’m pretty sure I got an A,” I said.

“Good. By the way, Yoseob, why are you standing in the wastebasket?”

So much for acting natural. “I am not standing in it, and I can’t get it out.”

“How did it get there in the first place?”

“I was trying to-oh, never mind! Are you just going to stand there asking dumb questions, or are you going to help me get this thing off?”

“Okay, since you asked so nicely,” he said, and smirked. “Come here, Bigfoot, and I’ll see what can I do.”

I limped forward, the wastebasket clanging to the floor with every step. Junhyung knelt and tugged at it while I stood on one leg like a flamingo, clinging to his broad shoulder for balance.

“If you’ll just point your toe, your foot should slide right out,” Junhyung said.

“Believe me, if I could point my toe, I would have done it a long time ago!” I told him irritably.

Junhyung took out a handful of trash and dropped it on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m digging you out,” he replied, placing another handful of trash on the floor.

“Well, you’re making an awful mess.”

“That’s okay. You can clean it up when we get you out.”

“I can clean it up?” I squawked. “You’re the one who’s dumping it all over the floor!”

“Well, I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for-“ Junhyung broke off as he saw my sneaker for the first time.

“Just pull, will you? I’ve got to get this thing off before the rest of the kids come in.”

Junhyung pulled, but nothing happened. “How in the world did you get your foot jammed in there so tight?”

“Talent, I guess. Are you getting anywhere?”

“Not really. Maybe it would help if you sat down.”

I sat on Mr. Heo’s desk and stuck my leg out. Junhyung gave the wastebasket a sharp jerk, and I promptly slid off the desk and landed practically on top of him.

“You’re going to have to hold on tighter than that,” he said

“You’re pulling to hard.”

“Do you want this thing off your foot or not? Now, hold on.” He pulled again.

I can only guess what Doojoon must have thought when he entered the room a few minutes later. “Yoseob, why do you have a wastebasket on your foot?” he asked.

“Because I always wear a wastebasket on my foot on Monday!” I answered tartly.

Waving Junhyung aside, Doojoon tried his luck with the wastebasket , but without any more success than Junhyung had had.

“What am I going to do if it won’t come off?” I worried.

“We’ll stick a wastebasket on your other foot,” Junhyung said. “At least that way you’ll have a matched set.”

“Let’s try again, Junhyung.” Doojoon said.

Together they gave one last tug and the wastebasket suddenly came off with such force that I almost tumbled backward off the desk. Junhyung landed on his rear end in a pile of litter from the wastebasket.

“Junhyung!” I gasped, looking down at him from the top of the desk. “Are you okay?”

Junhyung glanced up at me, and he looked so ridiculous sitting in the middle of all of that trash that I started I giggle. Junhyung smirked and began pelting me with wads of paper. I hopped off the desk, snatched up the empty wastebasket, and turned it upside down over his head.

Unfortunately, Mr. Heo chose that moment to re-enter the room. “And what may I ask,” he boomed,” is the meaning of all this?”