When I woke up the next morning and came downstairs, I found a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Dad was cooking breakfast while Mom, her freshly washed hair wrapped turban-style in a towel, ironed one of his shirts.

 “What’s going on?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

 “I’m afraid you’re on your own this morning, Yoseob,” Mom answered. “You’re father and I have to meet with a real estate agent. Dongwoon’s parents are coming, too. We think we’ve found an office to lease so we can get the software business out of their basement.”

 “That’s great! Then I can help out part time after school and you can put me on the payroll.”

 “Sometimes I think you’re already the highest paid member of the family,” Dad said, flipping a fried egg. “If you work for me, it’ll be to pay for your car repairs.”

 “Why is it that everybody thinks that stupid accident was my fault?” I asked, insulted.

 I stomped back up to my room in a huff. All in all, it was a lousy morning. I had to wait to use the bathroom and the hair dryer. After I finally washed and dried my hair, it looked terrible no matter what I did with it, I ended up leaving it as is.

 Mom and Dad left fifteen minutes later after telling me for about a millionth time to drive carefully. I told them I always drive carefully, no matter what some people might say.

 It wasn’t until after they were gone that I admitted to myself that I was really afraid to drive-in fact, scared to death. I kept remembering the accident, the crunching sound of metal on metal and the terrible things Junhyung had said to me and I knew I just couldn’t drive. I needed more time. Maybe tomorrow or the next day I would do it. Today I would call Woonie and see if he could give me a ride.

 I dialed Woonie’s number but no one answered. I stepped out onto the front porch just in time to see the answer to my problem. Breathing a sigh of relief, I ran to meet the bus.

 To my surprise, the first few hours of school weren’t bad. A few of Woonie’s friends remembered me from the day before.

 “Your name is Yang Yoseob, isn’t it?” he asked when the bell rang, ending the third period. “Are you related to Son Dongwoon? Because I always see you together.”

“Yes. We’re cousins,” I answered as we picked up our books and headed for the door.

And then I ran into a wall-at least, that’s what it felt like. The room spun crazily for a moment, but then someone caught me and held me until I regained my balance. I didn’t even have to look up to know that Junhyung had run into me at the school. Literally.

“Are you okay, Yoseob?” he asked, still holding me by the shoulders.

“I think so,” I said feebly. I didn’t ask Junhyung if he was alright. Junhyung released me and picked up the books that had been knocked out my arms and I suddenly realized we had an audience.

“Hey, Junhyung, stick to midfielders and don’t bruise up the cuties.” One boy advised.

Another boy laughed. “When Junhyung hits on someone, he really hits on him.” He added.

I snatched my books from Junhyung and fled down the hall, blushing to the roots of my hair. For the first time since my family had moved here, I thought of my old friends and my old school. I was engulfed by a wave of homesickness. Don’t think about it, I told myself. It’ll only make things worse.

I knew if I could just make it through the morning, I could pour out all my troubles into Woonie’s sympathetic ear at lunchtime. But when I met him in the cafeteria, Woonie had other plans.

“Come sit with me and I’ll introduced you to the gang.” He said. He indicated a table where Doojoon and Junhyung were sitting, along with a blond boy, a handsome brunette and three other boys I had never met.

“Does ‘the gang’ includes Junhyung?” I asked.

Dongwoon made a face. “You’re not going to start that again, are you? Of course it does.”

I shook my head. “Then I’ll pass. I’ve had enough of Junhyung today to last me a lifetime.”

I ended up sitting with my classmates from my study hall class, who introduced themselves as Mir and Minhyuk.

“Don’t turn around,” Mir whispered as we ate our lunch. “Yong Junhyung is watching us.”

“You’re kidding!” Minhyuk exclaimed, wheeling about in his chair. “He is absolutely to die!”

“He’s not so great,” I muttered, fiercely keeping my eyes fixed on my plate.

“Not so great?” Mir echoed incredulously. “Are you crazy? There isn’t someone at this school who isn’t wild about Junhyung.”

“Oh yes, there is,” I snapped. “As long as I’m here, there’s definitely someone who isn’t.”