Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jungeun stared out of the train window, watching the green forest run by. She fiddled with a knot in the cord of her headphones, but she wasn’t really listening to the music; her thoughts were occupied with imagining what her new high school would be like, and if the town of Forks had changed any since she’d last been there.

There came a tap on her shoulder, and Jungeun turned to give her mom, who was sitting beside her, the same empty, contemplative look she had been giving the trees. Her mom, undeterred, just smiled at her. “What’s on your mind?”

Jungeun paused her music and took her headphones out. “Nothing much. It sucks to have to move senior year.”

“I know, sweetheart,” her mom said. She gave Jungeun another smile, this one more forced. “It’s for the best.”

“Yeah,” Jungeun muttered, tearing her gaze away and staring out the window again. “I know.”

The landscape continued to run by — they had chosen seats facing south, so it was hard to shake the illusion that the very earth was running back to the home she had left behind. She put her headphones back in. Her mom didn’t try to engage her in conversation for the rest of the trip. 

The photo book in her backpack by her feet called to her. It would be so easy to take it out and flip through the memories of the childhood friends — Soobin was an accomplished photographer, and Narae had put together the project before Jungeun had left, each hand-made page decorated with stickers and patterned paper. So you don’t forget us, Narae had told her, presenting her with the book on their last day of junior year. 

I have your emails, she’d told them. And we can visit any time we want. And we’re all going to go to the same college. And we’ll be spending this summer together before I go.

Still, Narae had said. We’ll miss you.

Jungeun had promised herself that she’d only look at the book when she was feeling super homesick. And even then, only one page at a time. 

It would only be one year. She held onto that promise. One year, and then she’d go back home. 

The last stop on the train ride was Forks. Jungeun had drifted off to sleep, and woke up to her mom shaking her shoulder. 

“We’re here,” her mom said. 

Jungeun closed her eyes for a second, gathering her strength, then got to her feet and began pulling down her bags. There were quite a few, despite it only being one year; she’d be returning here during college breaks, so they were moving what was essentially her whole life. 

She shoved a beanie over her rumpled hair and put on a big leather jacket that used to belong to her mom, and the two of them made their way off of the train. 

Jungeun used to visit Forks a lot when she was younger, when her parents were still together. Her dad’s parents had lived here (Grandma was still alive, but in the hospital with dementia), and they’d make the trek a few times a year to say hi. When her parents split and Jungeun’s mom had gotten full custody, her father had gone up north to get back on his feet and had apparently never left. Jungeun’s mom’s parents lived with them down south, in fact only a couple streets away from their house, so she certainly had her fill of grandparents. 

She hadn’t been back in… nine years? Ten? How long had her parents been divorced? Lord, she couldn’t recall. It had just been a really long time.

The two of them were greeted at the station by Jungeun’s father. He had gotten… older. Jungeun had hoarded all of the photographs that had included him when they split, worried that her mom would cut them up or throw them out, but they didn’t help her prepare for the man in front of her. 

His hair had gone salt-and-pepper grey, and his face was more haggard and lean. In the photos, he had sported a goatee, but now he was clean-shaven. It revealed his sharp chin. He wore jeans and an untucked, button-down shirt, and held a bundle of flowers, passing them hand to hand nervously. 

Then his eyes landed on them coming out of the train, and he straightened, unable to hide a bright smile. Jungeun didn’t really know what to make of him, but she couldn’t help but melt a little bit at his obvious joy. 

“There you are,” he called. As Jungeun approached, he held out the flowers. “Here. I… I got these for you.”

Jungeun, who was encumbered by all of her bags, gingerly set down her duffels to accept the flowers with both hands. She turned them around, looking at all the different varieties; there were a few colorful sunflowers and some other purple flowers, among small, cute buds of yellow and white and green leafy things. Jungeun lifted it up and breathed in the scent. “Thanks, Dad. I love it.”

He beamed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown so much.”

Indeed, Jungeun stood half a head taller than her father. She shrugged, a little sheepishly, and said, “I guess I have. I’m almost an adult now.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” he said with a dramatic groan. Jungeun giggled, and her father pulled her into a hug. He smelled like old man. It was great. “Welcome home.”

Behind Jungeun, her mom cleared her throat, and said, “Taesu.”

The smile faded slightly from her father’s face, and he looked beyond Jungeun to her mother. “Youngha.”

The two of them, Taesu and Youngha, stared each other down. 

“So you’ll be staying with us for the night?” Taesu said. 

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” Youngha said. “I don’t want to stay long.”

Jungeun, caught in the middle of her parents sudden cold war, fidgeted with the flowers in her hands. She didn’t dare look at either of them; apparently, a decade apart hadn’t lessened the animosity between them. 

“Um,” she began, staring intensely at her sunflowers. It was a miracle they didn’t wither away. “Should we get home? I kind of want to take a shower.”

Taesu turned back to her and smiled again, although more subdued. “Of course.”

He still owned the red truck Jungeun remembered fondly. The three of them tossed all of Jungeun’s bags into the back, and squeezed Jungeun in there too for good measure. Youngha and Taesu got into the front seat, both sitting as far away from each other as they could manage, and Taesu began the drive back to the house Jungeun would be living in for the next year. 

He turned on the radio once they escaped the parking lot, and over the sounds of the Top 40, told her about the place they’d be going to. 

“It was your grandparents’,” he said. “I’ll tell you, I didn’t expect to still be in my childhood bedroom at this age. But it would be weird to sleep in the master bedroom. I’ve got my brother’s old room set up for you — went shopping so that you wouldn’t be sleeping on his old sheets, though.”

“Thanks,” Jungeun said. She had vague recollections of visiting her grandparents when she was a kid, but certainly not enough to remember the layout. It was an old house, that much she knew, and her father’s side of the family had lived there for forever. 

“We’ll have dinner together,” he continued. It was getting pretty dark out — the trip from the south to the north was not a short one, and although they’d set out at around noon, it would be six o’clock soon. “Pizza sound good?”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great,” Jungeun said. “With bell peppers and mushrooms?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Jungeun smiled. Usually people insisted on having at least one non-vegetarian option, so it was nice to see her dad be cool about it. 

“I invited one of your old friends over,” Taesu told her as the radio faded from music to the quiet voice of the host. “Do you remember Kim Jiwoo? You two used to be super close when you were kids. She wouldn’t leave your side; we had to shuffle the two of you between our houses. Sleepovers every night. When she heard you were coming back, she just about lost her mind with excitement. Her dad’ll be coming along too.”

Youngha scoffed. She muttered something about too many men. 

Taesu sighed. “Her mom passed a few years ago, and her dad took it pretty hard. I think it’ll be good for her to hang out with someone else her age…”

“Does she not have any friends?” Youngha said. “Maybe it’s for a reason.”

“She does,” Taesu said, already defensive. “They hang out by the quarry, though, and I get worried. Her dad thinks it’s fine. I don’t know. Maybe you’ll look after her, bring her around more often.”

“Sure,” Jungeun said. 

Taesu smiled at her through the rearview mirror, then turned the radio up some to whisper furiously to Youngha. Jungeun could still hear most of their conversation — it mostly revolved around something like Youngha, can’t you be just a little kinder? This is the last time Jungeun’s going to see you for a while, and Be quiet, Taesu, I never could stand your nagging, and Jungeun decided to tune it out. 

The rest of the ride kept on like that. They rode through downtown Forks, as ‘downtown’ as this place could get; there was a Main Street with the stuffy French place Jungeun remembered, as well as a few clothing boutiques and even a tea shop, but beyond Main Street and the cute streets surrounding it, everything got separated by patches of trees and parking lots. Forks was pretty spread out. 

“Here’s the neighborhood,” Taesu said cheerily, turning the radio volume down again and effectively ignoring Youngha. They had indeed left the businesses behind, and were driving down a quieter, residential road. “Any memories coming back, Jungeun?”

“A few,” Jungeun said, though she was lying. At most, the streets looked vaguely familiar; the houses here were few and far between, and they all looked pretty old. 

Finally, Taesu pulled into the driveway of one of the houses. It was Victorian-style, with pointy roofs and a shaded porch in the front; brick steps led up to the front door, and the lawn was covered in bushes and a few plant beds with native flowers. It was painted a steely blue, and loomed above Jungeun with dark windows, as if asking her what she was thinking daring to come back here. 

“Here we are,” Taesu said. The three of them piled out of the car and took as many of Jungeun’s bags as they could carry. The air was crisp and cool — it was already autumn here in the north, even when the home she had left behind was still clinging to the last dregs of summer. The t-shirts and shorts she had packed would be of little use, apparently. 

When they got inside, Taesu flicked on the lights, but they did little to dispel the shadows of the interior. Jungeun remembered a little bit more of this place: it was bright and cheerful in summer, with centuries of interesting things hidden away in cupboards and bookshelves. The same sepia-toned photographs hung above the staircase leading to the upper floor, and the same wooden floorboards laid under her feet. Taesu must have painted the walls, or re-papered them, because although Jungeun couldn’t remember the old color, she knew it had changed. 

Taesu led the three of them upstairs to Jungeun’s room. It had been her uncle’s before he had moved away and stopped visiting, and the walls were blue, with lighter stripes running from the slanted ceiling to the white wall panelling. The ceiling tilted down to meet the window, curving around the top of it gently; it overlooked the street below, and underneath the sill was her bed. 

The covers on it were bright pink. Jungeun gingerly put her bags on the fluffy duvet, staring at the obnoxious splash of color across pillows with ruffled edges and lacy overlays. Cool. Great. 

One year, she reminded herself. 

The three of them stood by the doorway, looking into the room. It was very empty — the bookshelf was collecting dust, the bed looked deflated, and the windowsill was lacking decoration, but with the bags scattered around the room, it already looked a little more lived in. Jungeun felt something strange seize in her chest. Her old bedroom had looked forlorn when she had emptied it out, but this room felt… different. Filled with potential. 

“I’ll order some pizza,” Taesu said, escaping downstairs and leaving Jungeun and her mother alone. 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment in silence. Youngha’s train would be leaving early tomorrow morning, and after that… it wasn’t likely that they would see each other until after Jungeun graduated college. She would be going through a five-year intensive program for her mental health, and the hospital didn’t really allow visitors. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Youngha said, her voice gentle, sounding as if her heart was about to break. Jungeun’s face crumpled into an expression of despair, and she launched herself into her mom’s arms. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jungeun choked out. Her mom was the perfect height for Jungeun to rest her head in the crook of her shoulder, and the two of them stood like that for a while, holding each other and rocking back and forth. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Jungeun,” her mom whispered. She kissed the top of her head, and the two of them broke apart. “Give your dad hell from me, alright?”

Jungeun giggled, though it was wet and snotty and she had to sniffle after. “He’s not that bad, Mom.”

“You say that now,” Youngha said, but she didn’t press it. “But… pink sheets, huh?”

Jungeun laughed again. “Oh, god, I hope he doesn’t get offended if I change it.”

Downstairs, Taesu had already ordered pizza — two large vegetarians, since Jiwoo and her dad had a large appetite, he said. They didn’t have to wait long for the others to arrive: the dining table was at the front of the house, tucked into a rounded alcove with large picture windows. The kitchen was behind them, separated by a counter, with as many appliances as they could fit into the tiny space. It opened onto the laundry room and the backyard further beyond. 

A silver pickup truck rolled into their driveway, coming to a stop behind Taesu’s own truck. He was up and opening the front door before their car even shut down. 

Jungeun and her mother looked at each other with wide eyes as there came the sounds of… manly greetings from the front door. They got up and lingered by the archway separating the entrance hall from the kitchen, watching Taesu and a man in a wheelchair hug and greet each other enthusiastically. 

“Oh, god,” Youngha muttered under her breath. 

There was another girl behind the man in a wheelchair, watching the goings-on with a faint smile on her face. Jungeun kind of remembered her, a little bit — she remembered a girl with pigtails and a round face that led her all around the forests surrounding Forks. It was a miracle they hadn’t ever gotten lost — but she knew her way around. 

This girl’s hair was a few shades lighter and tinted red, held up in a singular ponytail; she had gotten bangs and grown into her features somewhat. Her eyes were still huge, and as she caught sight of Jungeun lurking in the back, her smile split her face as wide as it always had. 

Jungeun grinned back, and called, “Jiwoo!”

Taesu and Mr Kim split apart, letting Jungeun and Jiwoo reach each other and hug each other tightly. It was as if all the years between their last meeting had slipped away; Jiwoo was still the same Jiwoo, the same sunshine on a rainy day, the same breath of fresh air. Jungeun held her tight to her chest, glad to have at least one friend here in this strange, new place.

“Oh my god, you look fantastic,” Jungeun said when they broke apart. Jiwoo certainly did — she wore a black shirt that showed off her slim build, and smelled really nice. Jungeun, in her band t-shirt and still smelling like a day-long train ride, felt suddenly ashamed. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“No, don’t even say that! You’ve been traveling all day,” Jiwoo said. The grin on her face hadn’t slipped even once, and they walked over to the dining table, squishing into the booth together and holding hands. “It’s been forever since I last saw you… I begged my dad to give me your address or something so I could write you, but he kept saying he didn’t have anything.”

“Yeah, my mom didn’t want Dad to have anything to do with us so she never gave him our address,” Jungeun told her. “I can give you my email now that I’m here, and you already know where I live now.”

“That’s true!” Jiwoo said. “Oh man, it’s really good to see you, Jungeun.”

“You too.” The two of them looked at each other, then giggled. 

“I’ll never understand the minds of young girls,” Taesu said, sighing as he and the rest of the adults came to the table. “What’s got you laughing now?”

“Just glad that Jungeun’s here,” Jiwoo said. She leaned her head on Jungeun’s shoulder, and the adults all visibly melted. 

The five of them talked, Youngha behaving as civilly as possible — it wasn’t her fault that she was so antagonistic, it was her faulty brain goop, as she told Jungeun — and when the pizza arrived, it only took ten minutes before it was all devoured and they were satisfied. They told stories of Jungeun and Jiwoo when they were young, and though Jungeun would have been embarrassed any other time, she had forgotten these stories and eagerly paid attention. 

Eventually, though, Mr Kim looked at his watch and said, “It’s getting pretty late. We should get going. Jiwoo?”

Jiwoo looked at Jungeun, biting her lip anxiously. “Uh… can I stay the night? For old time’s sake?”

“I’m good with that,” Jungeun said, jumping at the chance. 

The adults all looked to each other and shrugged. “Just for tonight,” Mr Kim said. “Alright?”

Jiwoo beamed. “Yes! I can show you around tomorrow, if you want, or help unpack, or we can just hang out — I’m just so glad you’re back.”

Jungeun brought Jiwoo up to her bedroom, leaving their parents to sit and talk. “You can borrow some of my pyjamas,” Jungeun told her as they passed the sepia photographs on the staircase, “since I don’t think you were prepared to sleep over.”

“Thanks, Jungeun,” Jiwoo said. She poked around the rooms upstairs, and Jungeun joined her, looking into her dad’s bedroom — very much the bedroom of a single guy, with clothes on the floor and a sad-looking plant on top of the dresser — but when they came to her grandparents’ old bedroom, it was locked. 

“Huh,” Jungeun said, trying the doorknob a few times before giving up. “Curious.”

They eventually made their way to her new bedroom. Jiwoo made the appropriate noises of appreciation, and together they moved the bags off of the bed and sat against the headboard. 

“So,” Jiwoo said. “Welcome back to Forks, Jungeun.”

“It’s good to be back.” Jungeun flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s been a decade. I can’t believe it.”

“Are you enrolled at the high school yet? We should be in the same grade,” Jiwoo said. “What classes are you taking?”

“A few APs. Environmental science, history, and calculus,” Jungeun told her. “You?”

“AP environmental science, yes, but I’m definitely not smart enough for the rest of that. I’ll be taking AP literature too, though.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Like, Pride and Prejudice?”

“Grapes of Wrath more likely, and Middlemarch. We’ve got our reading list, and I’ve made my way through a few recommended books.”

“So you’re into reading now?” Jungeun remembered that Jiwoo wouldn’t, or couldn’t, stay indoors when they were younger — they were always exploring the forest, or swimming at the lake, or bothering her grandfather in the garden. Reading seemed too interior a habit for Jiwoo.

“Yeah. I mean, I really like poetry — I like Walt Whitman,” Jiwoo said. 

“That’s cool.”

“He wrote a lot about the outdoors. I’m thinking of studying literature when I go to college,” Jiwoo said. “Might write some poetry of my own one day. You’ll see my collections in bookstores. Wilderness by Kim Jiwoo.”

“I’ll buy a thousand copies,” Jungeun said, very seriously. “And I’ll make you sign all of them for me.”

“I’ll write one word in each and make you put them together in the right order to get the final message,” Jiwoo told her cheekily. 

The two of them giggled, and Jiwoo flopped down as well, joining Jungeun to look up at the ceiling. They were quiet for a moment, slithering closer to each other on the duvet; Jungeun rested her head on Jiwoo’s shoulder, and Jiwoo threw her arm over Jungeun’s stomach. 

“I got you a present,” Jiwoo said softly. “A welcome to Forks, welcome back, welcome home present.”

“Oh?” Jungeun propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at Jiwoo. “Thanks, Jiwoo. I didn’t get anything for you, though.”

Jiwoo grinned. “That’s fine! You didn’t know I was coming, I didn’t expect anything in return.” She hung off the side of the bed and retrieved her bag, taking out a small wrapped present and handing it to Jungeun. “Here! Open it.”

Jungeun sat up properly and carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a jewelry box, holding a necklace with a delicate chain and a small charm: a golden wolf, its whole body pointed in one direction. The detail was incredible, despite how small it was — even the strands of fur could be made out. 

“Oh, wow,” Jungeun breathed. She held it up in the dim light and watched it shine. “It’s beautiful.”

“It used to belong to my grandparents,” Jiwoo told her. “When Nana passed away, I inherited a lot of her old jewelry.”

“What? Oh my god, I can’t take this,” Jungeun said, hurriedly putting the necklace back in its box and trying to shove it into Jiwoo’s hands. “It’s precious to you! You have to hold onto it!”

Jiwoo just laughed, refusing to take it. “I have like, a hundred necklaces from that old bird! Giving one away is fine. I want you to have it, Jungie.” 

Though she was still reluctant, Jungeun took the necklace back. She held it in her hands for a moment, watching the fur of the wolf shift in the dim light. 

“Here.” Jiwoo gently took the necklace and brushed Jungeun’s hair away from the nape of her neck. Her fingers were warm and soft on Jungeun’s skin, and gentle when she brought the necklace around and clasped it around her neck. “There we go,” Jiwoo said, coming back to sit in front of Jungeun. She smiled. “It looks great on you.”

Jungeun touched the golden wolf gently and smiled. “Thank you.”

The next morning, Jungeun was awoken by her mom shaking her and calling out her name. Blearily, Jungeun blinked awake; when she remembered where she was and what was happening, she bolted upright and threw her arms around her mom. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jungeun said quietly. “I’ll write every week — I’ll send photos, and — ”

“My baby,” Youngha murmured. She rocked Jungeun like as if she was a child again. “I’ll write to you every day.”

Jungeun sniffed, feeling the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes. She could feel Jiwoo stirring beside her in the bed, but paid no mind. “Please get better,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Jungeun followed her downstairs, where Taesu was waiting by the car outside. Youngha paused in the dining room, where there were still pizza boxes and a few empty bottles of alcohol on the table from last night. 

“I have something for you,” she said. She took out a small bag from her jacket pocket and pressed it into Jungeun’s hands. “Open it when you’re alone. It’ll keep you safe. It’s been my good luck charm for years.”

“Mom…”

“I want you to have it,” Youngha told her. She smiled, and kissed Jungeun’s forehead. “You’re going to need more luck than I do right now.”

A small, bitter part of Jungeun hated the gift. She knew at least some part of it was genuinely magical in Youngha’s eyes — a side effect of her mental illness was delusions. Good luck charms were harmless unless you truly believed in them. 

They said the last of their goodbyes until they couldn’t anymore, and Youngha and Taesu drove off together into the rising dawn of the new day. The sky ahead was already gray, and Jungeun felt the chill against her bare feet. 

She wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, and instead dived into the kitchen, searching for first the coffee pot and then the coffee. 

Jiwoo joined her some time later, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She wore an old t-shirt of Jungeun’s and her pyjama bottoms, and Jungeun smiled, enjoying seeing her so sleep-rumpled and in familiar clothing. 

“Good morning,” Jungeun said to her. She was already drinking her own cup, but offered to pour one for Jiwoo as well. 

“Hm, g’morning,” Jiwoo mumbled. She was falling asleep at the table, but refused the coffee. “Where’s your dad?”

“He went to drop my mom off at the station,” Jungeun said. “Early train.”

“I see,” Jiwoo said. She didn’t press for more explanation, and Jungeun was thankful — she didn’t think she’d be able to talk about it. Not right now, at least. “What do you have planned today?”

“I was thinking I could get unpacked, get everything set up in my room,” Jungeun said. “I’ve got to connect my computer to the internet…”

“Oh, good luck with that,” Jiwoo said. “The internet in Forks is dead slow. We’re in the Stone Age out here, I’ll tell you what.”

“Oh, great,” Jungeun muttered. “Still, I want to at least try. My old friends and I promised to keep in touch through email.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Do you want me to help?”

“Sure! If you’re willing to put up with my music,” Jungeun told her, a wry grin on her face. 

The two of them spent the morning listening to Jungeun’s MP3 player blast her current playlist — mostly new things, like My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, and Fall Out Boy — and she was glad to see Jiwoo enjoy the music as much as she did. They unpacked most of Jungeun’s closet (giggling uncontrollably when Jiwoo threw her underwear at her) as well as her books — Jiwoo looked through the photo book from Narae before putting it in a special place on her bookshelf, between a matryoshka doll and a framed photograph of her and her mom. They carefully stacked her CD collection by the desk in the corner, next to her CD player, which had a place of honor on the shelf above the desk. 

“You’ve got so many CDs,” Jiwoo said in wonder. She spent more time rummaging through Jungeun’s things than helping her put them all away, but Jungeun didn’t mind. 

“Some of them belonged to my parents,” Jungeun told her. She pointed to In the Flat Field by Bauhaus and A Night at the Opera by Queen. “Those were my dad’s. He was really into British stuff.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see them again,” Jiwoo said. She stacked them by color, though it was a little hard since most of the spines were black. “What’s this?” Jungeun turned to see Jiwoo hold up — oh no.

“Give it,” Jungeun cried, flushing with embarrassment at once. She swooped down and snatched Backstreet’s Back from Jiwoo’s grasp, holding it close to her chest. “You didn’t see that.”

Jiwoo laughed. “It’s cute!”

Jungeun frowned. “It’s my mom’s. I’m just holding onto it for now.”

“Ah,” Jiwoo said, sobering up. “Can I… ask about it?”

Jungeun looked at the album cover, chewing over what she could say. “It’s… it’s complicated,” she settled on. Putting the album down, she went to sit on the side of her bed. “She got arrested a few weeks ago. Just for disturbing the peace, but she was facing a really tough sentence because, I don’t know, I guess the court was prejudiced against her for being mentally ill. Her lawyer got her sentence reduced to having her go through a program at a facility. She’ll be there for… a while.”

“Jungeun,” Jiwoo murmured. She was sitting at the desk, but got up and joined Jungeun. “I’m so sorry.”

Jungeun sniffed once, twice, and then gently fell into Jiwoo’s open arms, crying into her own band shirt. Neither of them had to say anything else. Despite the long years they had spent apart, they were still Jungeun-And-Jiwoo — they were still best friends. 

After Jungeun got her tears out, they went back to unpacking her room. Gradually the shelves filled up, her clothes found their way into her wardrobe, and her walls were covered in posters. Jiwoo pointed out how strange it looked, to have Sepultura (that poster was heavily coveted, she had entered a magazine contest to win it) and Jimmy Eat World on the walls, but for her bed covers to be bright pink. If only Jungeun had packed her own sheets.

Around noon, Taesu called them down for lunch. He made them grilled cheese sandwiches and they were very nice, but it was more than a little awkward; Taesu didn’t really know what to say to them, and Jungeun didn’t know how to talk about her mom quite yet. She wanted to ask him if they had talked at the train station, but she didn’t know if she wanted the answer to be yes or no.

“So,” Taesu began when the sandwiches were nothing but crumbs. “What have you two been up to today?”

“Just unpacking,” Jiwoo said. “Actually though, my shift at the diner starts soon, so I should probably get going. Jungeun, I wanted to ask, do you want to come meet my friends some time before school starts next week? So that you don’t go into it alone, like, you’ll have a pack of us to look out for you.”

“Sure, that’d be great,” Jungeun said. “Drop by whenever, I’ll be here; I don’t think we have anything going on this week, right, Dad?”

“Right, of course, whenever,” Taesu said. “Just drop by.”

Jungeun blinked at him, then turned to look at Jiwoo with raised eyebrows. They shared a look. 

“I’ll come by in the next couple days,” Jiwoo said. 

That night, Jungeun laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep eluded her. 

On her beside table laid the bag her mother had given her that morning. Jungeun shifted under the covers to look at it, tinted a pale blue from the streetlight shining through her sheer curtains. 

Part of her wanted to open it up and see what was inside. Another part didn’t want to open this — the last present from her mother. 

Well. It wasn’t as if she was dead. They’d see each other in five years, and in the meantime they could write and call each other. She was getting the help she needed. She just… wasn’t going to be around for a while.

Jungeun sat up and clicked on her lamp. It illuminated the room with a soft, golden glow. Without letting herself think further about it, she took up the bag and emptied it over her lap. 

What tumbled out was a bundle of items, all tied together with a strip of cloth. Jungeun noted a key in the bundle, sticking out on both ends, as well as a leather bracelet. There was… a stone? Some kind of rock? And she could just make out a faded photograph, folded several times over so that the creases had been rubbed white. In between everything were dried leaves and herbs and flowers.

Jungeun brushed her fingers over the cloth. Had her mother been carrying this around? What had it meant to her? Why had she given it to Jungeun? The knot in the cloth was old and tight — as if it hadn’t been untied in years. 

She brought it to her nose and breathed deeply. It still carried the faint scent of her mom’s perfume. Jungeun was still for a moment, letting the smell into her system; feeling more self-assured, she set the bundle on her bedside table, and was finally able to drift off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Jiwoo picked her up that Friday and brought her to a spot in the forest where her group of friends hung out. There were four other girls there at the abandoned quarry in the woods — the place wasn’t so deep as to have a full lake, but one end of it had a pretty big puddle, and you had to climb a short staircase to get in and out. 

Jiwoo presented Jungeun, a mess with her hair all shoved under her beanie and dirtied jeans from the forest. She wasn’t used to all this hiking stuff and was very much out of breath, but when Jiwoo said, “This is Kim Jungeun!”, she made the effort to smile and wave. 

The oldest girl there had a bob haircut and a green knit cardigan. Somehow, she was dirt-free despite the, well, dirt all around; she greeted Jungeun with a broad smile. “Hey, Jungeun-ah! We’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Jungeun said, shooting a grin and a raised eyebrow to Jiwoo, who flushed furiously. 

“I’m Jo Haseul,” the girl said. She gestured to the other three — a girl with dyed red hair that was positively dripping with black clothes, a girl with long black hair and striped stockings under her schoolgirl skirt, and the youngest girl, who had bleached blonde hair — not as blonde as Jungeun herself, which was bleached within an inch of its life. “These are the creatures.”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “We have names,” she informed Jungeun. 

Haseul introduced them. “Kim Hyunjin — ” the redhead — “Son Hyeju — ” the girl with black hair — “and Im Yeojin.” The youngest. “And of course you know Jiwoo.”

“We all go to school together,” Jiwoo told Jungeun. She led her to a couch that had been left to the elements and bade her to sit. As she did, she looked around; there wasn’t much in the quarry beyond rocks, but underneath a ledge was a small wooden stage with something on it covered in a tarp, and there were a few lawn chairs and stools scattered around. Jiwoo had carried in a guitar case during the hike — wow — and almost everyone else was carrying a case of their own. “Well. Haseul-eonnie graduated last spring, so I’m the oldest now. We’re in a band together!”

“That’s cool,” Jungeun offered.

Hyeju scoffed. She made her way over to the tarp-covered object and uncovered it with a dramatic, sweeping gesture, revealing a gleaming set of drums. Jungeun gaped a little as she took it in. “You’re not the oldest now. Haseul-eonnie’s still here, if you didn’t notice.”

“Thanks, Hyeju-ah,” Haseul said. She brought her guitar case in front of her and unzipped it, revealing a beautiful instrument, all dark green with spiderweb details around the edges. There were a few amps under the tarp as well, and Yeojin pulled them out and started getting them and their cords ready, handing the ends to each girl as they came up.

Haseul started tuning her guitar carefully and came to stand in front of the drum kit, her cord trailing behind her over loose stones and forest detritus. Jiwoo and Hyunjin got their instruments ready as well, and Yeojin joined Jungeun on the couch.

“So,” Jungeun said, trying not to get too comfortable on the couch. It sort of faced the ‘stage’, as it were, but wasn’t quite head-on, more… diagonal. “Is green, like, your color?”

“Oh, sure,” Haseul said. “We all have our signature colors. It’s part of the concept of our band.”

“It’s supposed to be really complicated, but it’s not really,” Hyunjin told her. Her guitar was a sickly yellow, too bright and sharp to be cheery. It stood out against her outfit and was, indeed, the brightest thing in the entire quarry. “We want to do like, a music video series that’ll tell a really long, epic story, but we’re still figuring it out. What we’re stuck on right now is our name.”

“Right now we’re choosing between The Screaming Mimis and Banshee,” Hyeju said.  What do you think?”

“Uh,” Jungeun said. She poked the cushions of the couch and found them damp. “I think I like Banshee more, but The Screaming Mimis sounds cool too, like, a little more retro. Banshee would make you sound more established, I suppose? Though you might sound like a ripoff of Siouxsie and the Banshees.”

Hyeju and Hyunjin looked at each other. Hyeju, who had settled herself on the throne behind the drums, shrugged and twirled her sticks before tapping the hi-hat lightly. 

“I like Banshee now,” Yeojin declared. “I want to be established already.”

“You’re not even part of the band,” Jiwoo told her. She was having a hard time tuning her own guitar, poking her tongue out and bringing the strings up to her ear. It was a cute instrument, more rounded than the others and made of wood with stickers and scrawled messages all over the body. 

“I’m a roadie! That counts! Would you even be able to set up your own instruments without me? Do you even know how many different parts Hyeju’s drums have?!”

“Five,” Hyeju said. She tapped each piece in turn, ending with the bass drum. 

“Shouldn’t I still get a vote? I’m going to be stuck with you and the name you pick too!”

“Of course you get a vote,” Haseul said gently. She shot the others a wicked look. “Don’t let them all bully you.”

Hyeju did the badum-tshh sound on her drums. “Are your things tuned already or what? I want to practice!”

“So impatient,” Jiwoo said, humor etched into her chiding tone. She brought the neck of her guitar up, then as she swung back down, she treated them to a dark, deep chord that ripped through the quarry and into the forest. A flock of birds were startled into flying away. 

Yeojin leaned in close to Jungeun and whispered, “They were kicked from Haseul’s room, then from her garage, and then from the town in general for being too loud, so now we practice out here.”

“Which one are we starting with?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Uh… Crashing Bird?” Haseul said. 

“We always start with that one.”

“It’s my favorite!”

Hyeju, more than tired of them all, crashed her sticks against each other. “One, two, three, four!” 

She began the song with a strong attack on the drums, and the other three scrambled to join. After a cacophonous moment, they settled into their groove, and the song soared into the air, so loud and energetic that it took up physical space.

Stars burst to life in Jungeun’s eyes. Hyeju’s drums battled time itself, trying to get as much rhythm out as soon as possible; Hyunjin’s guitar wailed high and trembling as Hyunjin’s face contorted just the slightest bit, attempting to keep that beast under control. Haseul sang for them as well as kept rhythm on her own guitar, though Jiwoo and Hyunjin backed her up during the chorus — she was a talented singer, keeping a tight leash on the height and volume of her notes. She didn’t scream anything although it sounded as if the song called for it, most likely trying to preserve her vocal chords, but the raw energy and passion was evident. 

Jiwoo’s guitar was, in Jungeun’s opinion, the best part. It growled throughout the song, the bass humming in the earth — despite its almost cute exterior, it was a weapon in Jiwoo’s hands, tearing through dirt and rock into the core of the earth, striking Jungeun right in the heart.

Jungeun leaned forward, trying to get as close to the music as possible. She loved this. This was — it was everything. 

All too soon, the song ended, and the quarry rang with silence once more. In the far distance, a bird or two cawed. 

Jungeun clapped for them as they caught their breath. “That was so good! Oh, wow. How long have you guys been playing? Are you booked anywhere? Are there any clubs nearby? Wow. That was so — wow.”

The four of them smiled all together. If she hadn’t been blown away by the song, that would have done her fully in. 

“Yeah!” Haseul called. “Alright! Let’s go!”

School started that Monday. 

Jungeun and Jiwoo were assigned to different homerooms, where they would get their complete schedules, but Jiwoo promised to meet her for lunch if they didn’t meet in one of their classes earlier. Jungeun’s homeroom was with the art teacher, Mr Bang, who stopped by her desk and asked her if she needed any help getting around. 

“We don’t often get new people in Forks,” Mr Bang told her. “And I know you’re not technically new, but you’re new around school, so if you need anyone to show you around, let me know and I’ll get something going for you.”

Jungeun cast her gaze around the room, searching for anyone she knew. One of Jiwoo’s bandmates, maybe, even the small one. No luck. “Um. Thanks. I’m alright, though.”

“Well, welcome to Forks High School,” Mr Bang sighed. He gave her her schedule. “We have an after-school arts club, if you’re interested in joining. Won’t be officially starting until club rush, but kids come in and hang out anyway.”

Jungeun gave him a small “cool” and looked over her schedule. She had art, literature, AP Calculus AB, and AP World History in the morning, and after lunch, there was AP environmental science, yearbook, and P.E. Thank god gym was the last class of the day, so she could just go straight home and shower. Fucking nightmare of a class. Jungeun was as athletic as a popsicle.

Mr Bang gave them the class syllabus and let them do what they wanted for the rest of the class. Her literature teacher started them off with assigning the first act of A Midsummer Night’s Dream to read for homework and a worksheet to complete. Her AP Calculus teacher, Mrs Lee, gave them even more homework — they’d have a lot of ground to cover before the exam, she told the class, so she was taking this class to go over the syllabus, but they’d be moving onto limits and continuities and their homework was to take notes from the first chapter of their textbooks. If one of them faltered, then they got left behind. 

She held Jungeun after class for a few minutes. “I want you to come by my class after school tomorrow so we can see what you already know,” she said. “I teach precalc here, so I know what these kids are coming into class knowing, but that’s not the case with you. It’s a shame you had to move here senior year. I haven’t had a single student fail the test, and I’m not about to start now.”

“Right,” Jungeun said. “I’ll, uh, be there.”

Privately, she thought that she was probably fine with her existing knowledge. Mrs Lee was probably just being paranoid. 

In any case, their conversation made her late to her next class — AP World History — and everyone had already claimed their desks. There was only one empty seat left, next to a girl with hair so pale and blonde it was almost colorless, at the back of the classroom. 

“Sorry,” Jungeun murmured to the teacher, who just sighed and gestured for her to sit down. She made her way down the aisles as the teacher — Mr Song — began to lecture, still feeling eyes upon her. 

The girl watched her intently as she came ever closer. Underneath her blonde hair, her face was both strong and soft at once — lots of sharp angles, but they were softened by rounded edges. She had large, piercing eyes, dark and deep and dangerous… Jungeun didn’t really know where the dangerous came from, but she knew — she had an instinct, a feeling, impossible to shake — that this girl, this creature, was a predator, and Jungeun was her prey. 

Jungeun felt her heart stutter in her chest, a bolt of lightning coursing down her spine. The fan at the front of the classroom — as if it wasn’t cold enough already! — blew her own hair in front of her face, and she stopped a moment trying to tuck it all behind her ears, letting herself breathe for a second as she processed the intensity she felt from that charged second of eye contact.

There was an odd look on the girl’s face, she noticed. Her nose crinkled as Jungeun got closer, and when she sat down, the girl leaned away, putting her fingers under her nose as if to block out a scent. Jungeun frowned. She had showered that morning, thanks, so there was no reason for this girl to be so rude. Jungeun looked closer, and saw the girl’s other hand hidden underneath the desk, her fist clenched so hard that a drop of blood escaped from underneath one fingernail. 

Jungeun looked at her askance. “Uh,” she began, whispering under Mr Song’s syllabus introduction, “are you… alright?”

The girl glanced at her, then away, a brief flash of emotion crossing her face before it settled on a neutral mask. She sniffed hard, then carefully took away her fingers. “Yes. I’m sorry, I thought I was going to… get a nosebleed.”

“Oh,” Jungeun said, but it was obvious the girl was lying. Well. Whatever. “I’m Kim Jungeun.”

“The new girl,” the girl said. “I thought so. I hadn’t seen you before. I’m Jung Jinsol. I was the latest new girl — moved here just before last year.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Jinsol,” Jungeun said, and turned her attention to the front, where Mr Song was telling them about group projects they’d be doing later in the school year. 

It didn’t escape her notice when Jinsol took a small container of solid perfume from her bag and dabbed it underneath her nose. 

The cafeteria was in a separate building from the main school, across a courtyard populated with lots of benches and concrete and only a sparse few patches of grass. Jiwoo found her as she was making her way across and bounded to her side, hugging her as if they hadn’t seen each other just that morning. 

“Well? How’s it going so far?” Jiwoo asked her. She was in line for the school lunch, though Jungeun had packed her own sandwich and orange. “How’s classes? We didn’t have anything together yet, this is so sad.”

“I know,” Jungeun said. She leaned against the wall beside Jiwoo, trying not to get too close to the cafeteria food if she could help it. “Here. Give me your schedule.”

It turned out they had both AP environmental science and P.E. together. Jiwoo was cheered, and they went to join Hyeju, Hyunjin, and Yeojin at one of the tables. Jungeun was mostly quiet as the others talked among themselves, although Jiwoo did try her best to include her in their conversation about their classes. 

Then, suddenly, they all fell quiet and turned to stare out the windows into the courtyard. Jungeun, confused, followed their gaze, and found Jinsol walking towards the cafeteria, a small gaggle of girls trailing behind her. 

Jiwoo leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. The smile had disappeared from her face, and without it she looked… cold. Her eyes were dangerous and dark, just as Jinsol’s had been. 

Jinsol and her girls looked at their table as soon as they stepped inside. There was something strange about them that Jungeun couldn’t look away from — they were too pristine for this high school, too well-dressed, too perfectly made. They almost seemed to float through the cafeteria, nearly gliding along the floor until they settled around a table that had been empty, almost as if it was waiting for them. Jinsol made eye contact with Jiwoo, and Jungeun was almost surprised that the whole school didn’t go up in flames from the sheer intensity that radiated from that look. Even the general chatter of the other students faltered for a moment before Jinsol looked away. 

“Must have been too much to hope that they had moved away over the summer,” Hyeju said. They watched as the girls unpacked their lunches — mostly fruits and water, though some juice packets were passed around as well — with rising contempt. “I’m just glad Sooyoung graduated last year. Can’t wait for them to finally pack up and leave town.”

“I have Jeon Heejin and Choi Yerim in my physics class,” Hyunjin said. 

“Yeah, I have Park Chaewon in precalc and APLAC,” Hyeju said. 

Yeojin tossed her hair. “I don’t have any classes with any of them. So there.”

“Yeah, just because you’re too young,” Jiwoo said with a scoff. 

“I have Jinsol in my history class,” Jungeun said, feeling a little disconnected from the conversation. “We sit next to each other.”

Jiwoo turned to her, tearing her stare from Jinsol and directing it instead to Jungeun. It gave her the shivers — even though she knew Jiwoo, there was an edge to her look that almost rubbed her the wrong way. She wasn’t the type of person to anger easily. Anger on Jiwoo settled strangely. “You do? Jungeun, promise me that you’ll stay away from her. She’s not a good person. None of them are.”

Jungeun gave her a confused look, feeling a little wary of this side of her friend. “What are you talking about? What’s the matter with them? Who are they?”

Jiwoo took a deep breath and gave the other girls a meaningful look. They all turned back to their food, more subdued than before and certainly listening on their conversation. “They’re all adopted sisters. You already know Jinsol, but there’s Yerim, Chaewon, and Heejin as well.” She nodded her head towards a girl with purple hair, yet another girl with blonde hair, and a girl with black hair in turn. They all wore dark clothes, not quite as drippy and lacy as Hyunjin’s outfit but enough that the entire table looked like a black hole in the middle of the cafeteria. 

“Do you know each other?” Jungeun asked. 

Jiwoo snorted a small laugh. “Yeah. We… our families kind of butt heads a lot. Like — us all, we’re not actually related, but our families are really close so we all stick together. They’ve caused trouble for us for a long time.”

“I thought they just moved here a couple years ago.”

“Hm,” Jiwoo said. She picked at her tangerine, trying to get all the little strings off. “Sure. Maybe. Or maybe they just moved back.”

After lunch, Jungeun and Jiwoo bid goodbye to their friends and headed over to their AP environmental science classroom. There weren’t many other people taking it, so it was immediately obvious to them that Jinsol had also, apparently, signed up, and was sitting in the middle row of tables by the wall of closets. 

“Her again,” Jiwoo muttered in Jungeun’s ear. “Come on. Let’s go sit over here.” She led the two of them to the back row, by the open window near the teacher’s work desk. Jinsol kept the corner of her eye pinned to them the entire time, subtly keeping her hand over her nose. 

Jiwoo watched her in return. That edge in her hadn’t gone away since they had first seen each other, and eventually Jinsol turned to the front of the classroom where their teacher was writing something on the whiteboard. 

“Hey,” Jungeun said, nudging Jiwoo’s knee under the table with her own. “Relax. She’s not going to bite.”

Jiwoo snorted. 

“Okay, well, not in the middle of class at least,” Jungeun amended. She opened her binder and her pencil case and accepted the yellow sheet of paper that was meant to be their syllabus. “Seriously, though. I can’t sit next to you if you’re just going to glower at Jinsol the whole time.”

Jiwoo spent one last second glaring at Jinsol, then turned to Jungeun with a pout at the ready. “I guess you’re right. Alright. Fine.” 

“Thank you,” Jungeun murmured, and finally paid attention as their teacher — Ms Bak — explained what they’d be doing that year. Lots of partner work and group projects, which made the eight students all look appraisingly at each other.

Jinsol and Jiwoo’s gazes met once more. This time, Jiwoo was the first to look away; and thus, Jinsol’s eyes landed on Jungeun. 

The same crackle of electricity she’d felt before in the history classroom ran between them. This time, though, her face wasn’t crinkled with distaste, but rather a detached sense of curiosity — almost as if she was looking at Jungeun with a clinical disregard. She raised an eyebrow at her, and turned back to the front, where Ms Park was enthusiastically discussing the week-long project they’d spend on analyzing dirt samples from around the school grounds. 

“Okay,” Jungeun said to herself. Her chest was tight, as if she had been running for miles and her lungs had finally stopped working.

“You alright?” Jiwoo murmured in her ear. 

Jungeun stared at the back of Jinsol’s blonde, beautiful head. 

“Maybe she does bite,” she admitted. 

Never was she more grateful to hear the bell ring than at the end of that class. Jiwoo had band next period, so Jungeun made her way over to the yearbook classroom by herself. It was in a separate building from the main school, across a large stone courtyard and tucked behind a row of storage units. The forest came right up to the chainlink fence that marked this classroom as, indeed, being on school grounds. 

Apparently, this classroom was only used for this one thing, for this one period each day. A few minutes after Jungeun got there, lingering outside with the other students — they had all tried the door and found it locked, and there were a few benches and a small patch of grass — a teacher came running up, obviously embarrassed to be late. He unlocked the door and ushered them in, grinning at them sheepishly and rubbing his hands over his arms in a mockery of being cold. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, so maybe he was actually cold, but Jungeun and the rest of the students were relatively unbothered. 

“Welcome, welcome,” their teacher said once everyone was inside. The room was incredibly small, with a small cluster of desks pushed together near the whiteboard and a row of computers up against the wall that separated them from the forest. “Good to see some familiar faces. For those of you that are new, I’m Mr Lee; I usually teach ninth and tenth grade literature, but I’m also the yearbook coordinator each year.”

“Because no one else wants to do it?” one of the other kids piped up. 

“Because none of the other teachers want to do it,” Mr Lee confirmed. “You all can call me Felix, though, if you want. We’re going to be working a lot together, even outside of the classroom if you’re really dedicated. I’ll give you a quick run-down, then I’ve got some design samples from our publisher and we’ll spend the next week or so choosing a theme. Remember — this class is about photography and graphic design. Those are the two principles that guide this course. I will be lending out cameras to all of you, and you will not break them. Do you understand?”

A general murmur of agreement ran around the room. 

“And when we start using those very nice computers, you are not going to break them. Right?”

Another wave of ‘yes’s. 

“Right. Okay, so like I said we’ll be spending the first few days choosing our theme. We have a shorter time limit this year, the deadline is in March instead of April, so if I rush you a little bit you can’t be mad. We’ll be assigning pages — I asked for a 80 page book, and there’s…” He did a quick head count. “… eleven of you. Ooh. That’s math. Someone do that for me real quick.”

One of the students near the front dutifully pulled out a calculator, and another asked, “How long are the class photo pages going to be?”

“I don’t know,” Mr Lee mused. “The same as last year. What was it last year?”

“About five for every class but the seniors,” yet another student said. Jungeun began to feel a little out of her depth here. 

“And how long were the senior pages?”

“Uh… eight?”

“Alright. That’s manageable,” Mr Lee said. “I can assign a couple of you the senior pages, and then maybe four of you to the other class photos. It won’t take much effort, just lots of organizing. Who’s good at that?”

Tentatively, Jungeun raised her hand. A few others scattered around the table did so as well. 

“Great, you’re all hired. Keep that assignment in mind, I’ll be sure to forget myself.”

Jungeun cracked a smile despite herself. Mr Lee seemed like a fun teacher, and Jungeun was eager to get her hands on a camera. She loved photography and was currently trying to save up for a camera of her own, but this would be the first time she had used one herself.

“After we choose a theme, we’ll spend a couple weeks learning how to take pictures, and I think by then we should finally have the log-ins for the design program online so we can start the graphic design section. The first check-in will be the first forty pages mid-November, and the second will be the last forty pages mid-February. I want to be able to check and double-check these pages before we ship them out to the publisher. After March, we’ll spend most of our time advertising the yearbook and sorting through order forms for everyone. I want all of you to get the full range of experience, so I won’t split you up into teams like we did last year; instead, you’ll be doing both adverts and the business side of things. We’ll be handling a lot of money, mind. Most of it goes to the publishers, but we take a small cut to fund most end-of-year activities, like the play, prom, graduation, and the fair for the underclassmen, as well as our own private party.”

Part of Jungeun wished that Mr Lee had given them an actual syllabus, but she knew that her binder would have burst if it had had to fit one more stupid sheet of paper. 

“Now!” Mr Lee smiled and clapped his hands. “Who’s ready to get started?”

It was a little hard to hear the bell that far away from the main campus of the school, and the chatter in the yearbook classroom didn’t help any. It took a minute before anyone looked at the clock and told them they had to get going.

Jungeun threw her things into her backpack and booked it all the way across campus to the gym. This school was big — it took Jungeun almost all the allotted time to run over, and when she finally made it, she was out of breath. Jiwoo was waiting for her at the doors, looking at her watch and tapping her foot impatiently. 

“Oh man, there you are,” she said, ushering Jungeun inside. There was already a crowd of kids inside, all trying to organize themselves on a series of painted numbers on the floor; out of the corner of her eye, Jungeun noted Jinsol leaning against a wall, watching the goings-on with a certain hatred only people with a years-long grudge for gym class could muster. Jungeun and Jiwoo put their bags by the pile in the corner, next to a stack of mats, and joined the crowd all trying desperately to find their place. 

“It’s organized by last name,” Jiwoo told her, “so you and I should be close — ”

They were interrupted by a short, high whistle, and everyone fell silent at once. Jungeun turned and looked at their teacher and found a short man with an incredible amount of muscles on him standing by the door to his office. 

“Hello, everyone,” their coach said, somehow both bored and fanatical at the same time. “Please organize yourselves alphabetically by last name on the numbers so I can take roll. I’ll pass out locks and assign you lockers. There are only three rules, so remember them well: no fighting, no stealing, and no aerosol deodorant.”

“I need to get gym clothes,” Jungeun muttered to Jiwoo. “Should I talk to him after class?”

“Probably,” Jiwoo said, and along with the rest of the class, they eventually found their places on the numbers and were assigned locks and lockers. Jungeun and Jiwoo were across the room from each other, but Jiwoo and Jinsol had somehow managed to get lockers right next to each other. The two of them glowered at each other strongly enough that Jungeun had to laugh. 

While Jiwoo was distracted, a few other girls came up to Jungeun. They all seemed… homogeneously artificial, trying too hard to be desirable in a different way from, for instance, Jinsol’s effortless grace and beauty. They all wore shiny lipgloss and crop tops and Jungeun couldn’t tear her eyes from them. 

“Hi,” the one at the front said, giving her a bright smile. “You’re new around here, right? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lee Sangmi, and these are Taeha, Hasun, Chunhwa, and Jiyeon. How’ve you been settling into Forks so far?”

“Um, it’s nice,” Jungeun said. She cast nervous eyes over to Jiwoo, who was engaged in a petty elbowing war with Jinsol. 

“That’s great,” Sangmi said. She leaned up against the locker besides Jungeun’s, and the rest of the girls stepped away to quietly talk with each other. “I think we have a couple classes with each other, don’t we? Literature or something. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Kim Jungeun,” she told her. 

“Cool! It’s nice to meet you, Jungeun-ah. The girls and I are actually going down to Port Angeles this weekend, if you’re interested in joining us.”

Jungeun looked at the cluster of girls, then back to Sangmi. Personally, she didn’t think she was willing to wear a crop top when it was so cold out, and she didn’t really own such sparkly lip gloss, so she wasn’t sure what Sangmi saw in her. “Um… I’m really flattered, but Jiwoo and I are doing something,” she said, making a mental note to actually ask Jiwoo out. Maybe they could go to the quarry again, and Jiwoo could teach her how to play guitar. “Thanks, though.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Sangmi said, fidgeting with her ponytail and giving Jungeun a less brilliant smile than before. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Alright,” Jungeun said, feeling a bit as if she had been visited by a passing tornado as Sangmi gathered her girls and left. She did stare a little as they left the locker room, more than a little mystified as to why this kind of person would even register her existence, Back home, Jungeun had coasted through most of her school life with her close, if small, group of friends by her side. She’d never had designs of being popular, if only because she knew she’d be insufferable. 

How bizarre. Jungeun closed her locker a few times, testing her memory of the combination until Jiwoo joined her again. Tension still lingered between her eyebrows, but she made the effort to smile at Jungeun. 

“We have a free period, basically, I think Coach Seo will give us the course syllabus or whatever but we can leave if you want,” Jiwoo told her. “And you should get your uniform from him.”

Jungeun got everything sorted, Jiwoo by her side the whole time. They’d promised each other that they’d go out for pizza that night to celebrate the first day of school being over, so they headed out to the parking lot where her truck was parked. Near the entrance to the school, Jinsol’s younger sisters lingered around a Subaru, each of them watching Jungeun and Jiwoo make their way to the silver truck. It was a little eerie, the way their heads all turned in synchrony. Jungeun couldn’t look away, even as a shiver or two ran up her spine. 

Then she fully slammed into someone else. It was as if she had run into a brick wall, but the other person immediately brought out her hands to keep her from falling. When Jungeun pitched back, the other girl brought her closer, and Jungeun looked up, breathless, into the dark, searching eyes of Jinsol. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jungeun breathed out. Her backpack had slipped off of her shoulder, and as she straightened up, carefully trying to escape Jinsol’s grasp, she pulled the straps up, feeling more than a little insecure. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Jinsol said. Her eyes slid from Jungeun to Jiwoo, who was silently frozen next to them — whether from shock or revulsion, Jungeun didn’t know. As the two of them fixed their gazes upon each other, her grip grew tighter around Jungeun’s upper arms. 

“Hey,” Jungeun said, trying to pry her fingers off. “Jinsol? Hey?”

Jinsol blinked, and her focus was on Jungeun once more. Her face was impassive, as if she had no idea what she was doing, and Jungeun felt a spark of anger.

“Can you let go?” 

Jinsol looked down at her grasp, and as if she had just realized, let go of Jungeun’s arms. Jungeun rubbed at where the bruises were almost certainly forming and fixed Jinsol with a glower of her own.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Jungeun demanded. “We just met today, what is your deal?”

Jinsol just looked at her, a wild look growing in her eye, and said nothing. 

“Whatever,” Jungeun muttered. “Let’s just go, Jiwoo.”

Without bothering to look back, Jungeun grabbed Jiwoo’s hand and pulled her towards their truck. Unable to help herself, Jiwoo sent a rude gesture at Jinsol as they retreated, and the two of them threw their backpacks into the back and collapsed into their seats, already boneless from an exhausting, mixed-bag of a first day. 

They looked at each other. Jungeun could see the tiredness etch itself into Jiwoo’s face and knew that she reflected that same exhaustion. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey,” Jiwoo returned, a small smile lifting her face. 

“Wanna go get some pizza?”

“Hell yeah.”