After a moment, I pushed myself up from my seat and trailed after Hyorim and the others as they made their way down the hall toward their classroom.
My steps were slow, almost dragging, the drowsiness still clinging to me.
"So…" I asked, voice low and lazy, "what was all that about earlier?"
Irina gave me a look like I'd grown two heads. "You're seriously asking us? You were right there!"
I stifled another yawn, scratching at the back of my neck.
"Mm… I don't really know. I was sleeping." My tone was flat, almost bored, like I couldn't be bothered to care too much.
"Next thing I know, those fools were already fighting. They're actually… pretty nice, you know?"
The girls exchanged glances, half skeptical, half amused. Jinkyung let out a soft snort, muttering, "Nice? That's one way to put it."
Hyorim didn't say anything, but I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips as if she was trying not to smile.
I rubbed my eyes, still half-slouched as we walked. "Aren't you guys close to Chulgyu? Didn't you all go to the same middle school?"
The reaction was immediate. Irina wrinkled her nose. "Close? Please. No way."
Jinkyung shook her head quickly. "We just… went to the same school, that's all. Don't get the wrong idea."
Then Hyorim spoke, her voice calm but laced with clear distaste. "I hate him," she said flatly.
"Always smoking, drinking, and pretending he's some kind of thug… just like my brother." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if even the thought of him irritated her.
The group went quiet for a moment, the air heavier with her words. I blinked slowly, letting out another soft yawn, though inside, I filed her reaction away carefully.
As soon as we reached their classroom, Irina hurried to her seat.
Irina tapped the corner of the poster with her finger, lips pursed in thought. "I was planning to put a sticky note with my friends' messages you know, like wishing us to stay together, how good we are for each other, all that sweet stuff. But…"
She frowned, tilting her head. "I still don't know what to put in the top middle. Should I just paste one of our pictures together?"
The group leaned in, offering half-baked suggestions. Jinkyung shrugged.
Before their voices could overlap into a mess, I spoke up from behind them.
"Why don't you ask Suwon to draw the two of you together? He's really good."
Irina blinked at me, caught off guard by my suggestion. "Really?" she asked, tilting her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"Yeah," I said with a small smile. "Suwon's good better than he lets on. If you want something more personal than a photo, he could draw you and your boyfriend together. Trust me, it'd look amazing."
Irina's face brightened at the idea. "That… actually sounds perfect," she admitted, excitement creeping into her voice. "A drawing would be way more meaningful than just slapping a picture on there."
Irina tapped the edge of the poster with her finger, her eyes bright with sudden resolve. "Okay then fine. I'll ask Suwon later," she said, nodding decisively. "If he's as good as you say, then this will turn out even better than I imagined."
She grabbed the small stack of sticky notes from her desk and fanned them out dramatically. "But for now… you guys should write something on these. You guys should write the longest you're my best friends."
Jinkyung groaned, leaning back in her chair. "You make it sound so easy. My brain goes blank the second you put me on the spot like that."
Irina rolled her eyes and shoved a sticky note into her hand. "No excuses. Just write something meaningful you can think of."
Then she turned toward me , offering me a note with a grin. "Same goes for you too. Don't think you're off the hook."
I took mine, turning the small square over between my fingers. "Guess I'll have to think of something nice to say," I muttered with a faint smile.
Hyorim accepted hers with a small sigh, twirling the sticky note between her fingers. "Seriously… what should I even write?" she said, her tone somewhere between reluctant and amused.
"Anything," Irina chimed in immediately. "You better put your heart into it after all, you guys are my friends"
Time slipped by, and before long Hyorim was standing at the front door of her house. She pushed it open with a tired hand, only to freeze at the sight that greeted her.
The living room was a disaster. Empty beer cans littered the floor like abandoned relics, cigarette butts overflowed from an ashtray, and the sharp, sour smell of alcohol and smoke clung to the air. A half-crumpled bag of chips lay on the table, greasy stains marking the wood beneath it.
Hyorim's face tightened.
Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and her hand clenched the doorknob until her knuckles whitened.
"Ughhh…" The sound escaped her throat in a mix of anger and exhaustion. Then, louder, sharper "Fuck."
Weekends blurred into Monday before we knew it.
Near the school by the low-rise building Park Dong and Yang Jinsu were standing with cigarettes between their fingers, leaning against the concrete railing and trading bored complaints about life.
"When are you getting that haircut?" Park Dong asked, blowing smoke in a lazy arc.
Jinsu snorted, annoyed. "I don't know. Fuck it I'll just drop out." His tone was half-angry, half-theatrical, like he wanted people to take him seriously.
"Wow," Park Dong said, deadpan. "Scary." He watched Jinsu spit, then cocked an eyebrow. "Why don't you just go to a salon and fix it?"
Before Jinsu could answer, a commotion drifted up from the street below shouts, scattered footsteps, the clatter of something hitting pavement. Curious, we both peered over the railing.
Downstairs, Im Yongjin stood like a calm storm in front of a two student. He had a cigarette between his lips, the smoke curling into the chilly air, as he squared up to a couple of kids from another school.
One of them tried to push back, but Yongjin's hand rose in a single, efficient motion slap and the kid staggered, rubbing his cheek.
Yongjin looked up at the railing and his eyes locked on Jinsu and Park Dong. "Hey haven't I seen you two before?" he called, voice easy. "Got a cigarette?"
He turned his attention back to the other students long enough to warn them in a low, dangerous voice, "If I catch you smoking around here again, I'll rip your arms off, got it?"
"O-okay, I'm sorry," one of them stammered, stumbling backward.
Yongjin finished with another swift smack to someone else who tried to murmur defiance, then straightened and stamped out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe.
"Understood?" he asked the smaller group, slapping the last kid lightly across the back of the head for emphasis as they scrambled away, heads bowed and apologetic.
Park Dong watched, unimpressed but satisfied. Jinsu's bravado had drained a little, eyes flicking between Yongjin and the retreating kids.
The moment felt like a reminder: this town had its own rules, and some people here enforced them with fewer words and more force.
The disciplinary teacher loomed at the school gate, a fat wooden stick tucked under his arm like a scepter. Behind him a row of unlucky students crouched in humiliating frog poses, heads bowed as the teacher inspected each haircut with clinical severity.
Suwon's group and I threaded our way toward the entrance, trying to keep our steps casual.
Inseop and Junhyun slipped down beside us, shoulders hunched as they tried to make themselves small ducking their heads, eyes darting, praying they wouldn't be noticed.
The teacher's gaze swept the line like a metal detector. "Hey black clothes there!" he barked suddenly, pointing straight at Inseop.
The boy froze; his face drained a shade paler. "Where do you think you're running off to?"
"Inseop?" Junhyun hissed, panic at the edge of his whisper. He pressed lower, convinced he'd dodge the reprimand until the teacher's finger swung again.
"And you too green" the teacher snapped. Junhyun's jaw dropped as all the color leached from his face.
Time slowed for a beat as the two of them realized they hadn't gotten away with it.
Around them, students shuffled, stifled laughs bubbled, and the small line of frog-posed kids shifted in the teacher's shadow. The morning air suddenly felt a lot colder.
"All of you bunny hops! Full lap around the soccer field!"
Groans echoed, but no one dared resist.
Soon a line of students hopped awkwardly across the field, backpacks bouncing, arms flailing like a pack of deranged rabbits.
We filed into the classroom, the noise of the morning fading as the teacher slammed a hand against the desk.
"Ugh, you bastards sleeping through every class! You think you'll make it into a Seoul college like that?" he barked, glaring around.
A low snicker came from the back.
"Pfft, what's he even saying? Isn't that the bare minimum?"
"Yeah," another whispered, smirking. "Why's he overreacting like we're applying to Harvard?"