Three times a day. I had to see her three times a day.

 

When I'd initially been attracted to chaerin in homeroom - so I could admit it, I was attracted to her - I thought I'd be able to ignore it. Then she showed up three periods later for study hall, and I spent the entire time staring at her. Then, she showed up once more two periods later for Twelfth Grade Advanced Placement English. The only senior class I taught. Of course she had to be smart, too. All my luck was against me.

 

Each time I saw her that week, we talked, which felt like a blessing but was definitely a curse. She really wasn't too good to be true. Not only was she gorgeous, but incredibly clever and funny. I didn't know what it was about chaerin that made me think in such a way about her, because of course she was beautiful, but I'd known a lot of pretty girls in my time and hadn't been attracted to most of them. There was something else, beyond the physical, that made me die to know her better. Charisma, maybe. Or charm.

 

Wednesday afternoon, she walked in for English. My third time having seen her that day. She was the first one there, but didn't seem to notice.

 

"I'm back," she said, poking fun at the frequency with which she ended up in my room.

 

"I see an awful lot of you in one day," I noted unnecessarily, giving her eyes without realizng I was doing so.

 

"I know," she replied, putting her things down.

 

"I should probably just move in."

 

You probably should, I thought, but searched for an answer I could actually give out loud. "Well, you would save a lot of gas money," I pointed out.

 

"I would if I had my own car," she complained. Facetiously smiling, she sighed, "Parents."

 

"They're so unfair, aren't they?"

 

Some other kids walked in then, and the conversation was cut short. Somehow I knew, though, that it would give me enough material to think about it all weekend.

 

Okay, I had a crush. At least I would never do anything about it.

 

That afternoon, I was called into a meeting with the school's principal, not knowing why. I knocked tentatively on the door, wondering if I'd been fired already. He let me in, smiling, which I took as a good sign, and motioned me to a chair on the opposite side of the desk.

 

"Nice to see you, Dara," he said, taking a seat of his own. "How are you liking Whimoon?"

 

"Thanks," I said genuinely, though I was inevitably nervous. "It's great so far. Everyone's been really welcoming." That was mostly the truth. I'd gotten along with my staff well insofar, and had no reason to complain.

 

"Good to hear," he said. "I called you today because we're looking for someone to coach cheerleading this year. Park Bom mentioned that you'd been