Junhyung was slowly making his way across the lawn. I wondered if he’d ever seen a doctor. The cut on his forehead was a thin black line. I felt this wild rush of hope as he approached. I don’t know what I was hoping for, exactly. Unless maybe it was the insane fantasy that he’d swoop me into his arms and tell me that his life had been forever changed since that moment we’d first touched in the orange grove.
“Hi,” he said.
So much for the fantasy.
“Hi,” I said.
“I believe that would be my cue,” Seungie said. He grinned. “Hi.”
“You’re Hyunseung, right? English fourth period?”
He took off his sunglasses. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember. You’re not there much.”
He smiled, then fell serious. “I heard about your tumor.”
It was the word, so ugly and bare, that everyone else had been studiously avoiding. Seungie wasn’t fazed. “Yeah, well, I’d been meaning to get my hair cut, anyway.”
Junhyung laughed, but his eyes were pained. “Life has a way of sometimes,” he said. “You having surgery?”
“Monday. Tests first.”
“That’s tough.”
We settled into an awkward silence. “I hear your bike got totalled,” Seungie said. “Speaking of tough.”
Junhyung reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved a five thousand won bill. “Here,” he said, looking at me for the first time. I felt my cheeks blaze. “What’s that?” I asked, frowning at the bill.
“For your shirt. A down payment,” Junhyung said.
“Please.” I laughed. “It was just an old t-shirt.”
He hesitated, then stuffed the bill back in his pocket.
“Well, anyway, thanks again for your help,” he said.
I listened for something to hang on to-a throaty catch I his voice, eye contact that lingered just a second too long-something, anything I could take as a sign he felt the same way I did. But Junhyung just turned back to Seungie and took off his sunglasses. “Good luck,” he said softly, and then he was limping away.
“Damn,” Seungie said. “I blew my big chance.”
I wondered if Seungie was serious, and if he was what I would do about it. He was always talking that way about guys but rarely followed through. I think he felt as shy and inadequate as I did around them, which was crazy.
Most of the time, though, Seungie was so immersed in his own little world that he didn’t quite follow what was going on in the real one. A person would flirt with him, and about four  days later he’d realize it. Whereas I, on the other hand, was attuned to every nuance, every look, every word, every word implied between words. A person would accidentally run into me in the hall and that evening I’d be picking out good tuxes.
Seungie sighed. “Did you sense anything there between us? A sort of fatalistic bond? Or was that just pity? Who cares, I’ll take what I can get. Maybe if I’m back in school in time for Valentine’s Day, I could ask him to the dance. Would that be tacky?”
“No,” I said, looking away. “It would be very normal to you.”
“I’m halfway serious, you realize.”
“Plan on it, Seung. Definitely. I’d give you something to-“
“Don’t say to live for.”
“I…I was just going to say that it would give you something to look forward to, that’s all.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. Do you think he likes the gangly, bald, puking type?”
“You forgot brilliant.”
“If radiation treatments make me nauseated, we can pray to the toilet. I’m getting on your nerves, right?”
I touched his shoulder. “I just want you to think positively, okay? For me?”
“I am.” Seungie jumped to his feet.
“it’s a start.” I said. I stood, brushed off my jeans, and grabbed my backpack. “Are you serious?” I asked-casually, I hoped. “About Junhyung?”
Seungie gave a short laugh. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. You sounded-“
“Please, you know me. I talk the talk, but I can’t walk the walk. Or is it the other way around?” We fell into step together. “Besides, I’ve got other things to think about.” A look of weariness settled his lovely face. “Explain to me again how this optimism stuff works.”

My heart was in my throat later that afternoon as I walked Seungie through the crowded halls to the lobby. His parents were waiting stiffly in the car.
I pulled two crumpled packages out of my back pack.
“I should have known you’d make an event out of this,” Seungie groaned. He signalled to his parents and we sat up on the wooden bench by the door. The vice-principal, Mr. Lee, was standing at the entrance to the administrative offices, watching us. He’d already given Seungie a big pep talk- “The prayers of the school is with you,” “Don’t worry about falling behind,” the sort of thing.
Seungie tore the shiny paper off the first present and pulled out the pair of red pajamas. “Excellent,” he declared. “Although I’m sure the docs would have preferred a nice little teddy.”
“I read-“ I stopped myself. For the last two days I’d pulled up every article about brain cancer I could find on my computer. One had mentioned that button pj’s were better for brain surgery patients-nothing to pull over your head.
“Read what?”
“Nothing. Open the envelope.”
Seungie slit open the manila envelope. “For your wall at the hospital,” I explained as he pulled out the Michelin street map of Paris.
He stared at the map, his index finger slowly tracing the P in Paris over and over.
I hugged him and we both started to cry. Seungie pulled away, scooping up the gifts and ran out the door to his parents’ waiting car.
“It’ll be okay,” I called, but the door had already closed, and Mr. Lee was the only one who heard me.