Sophie claps her hands. “Perfect! We’ll see you guys at four thirty then.”
We spend the rest of the meal in comfortable conversation, Yoon Jae telling me about his classes this year and his little sister living in Beijing who wants to be a gymnast. We head back to our dorms with me not sharing a single word with Jason.
The next morning in first period, I get to class early. As I watch my classmates trickle in, I steel myself for today’s Jason encounter. But when he saunters through the door, he snags one of the free chairs in the front of the room. As far away from me as he can get.
I scoff, shooting daggers at the back of his head with my eyes, hoping he feels all the hateful thoughts I have for him. So what if he doesn’t want to sit beside me? I don’t want to sit beside him, either. And I show him that the rest of the day by refusing to even look in his direction.
Four thirty rolls around sooner than I expect, and I barely have time to get back to my dorm and change clothes. I decide on a knee-length dress I ordered online last summer. What does one wear to a Korean mall? I’ve noticed that the girls here dress differently than back home. More high heels, short shorts, and screen-printed tees. I’ve yet to see many girls in boot-cut jeans or anything like what we would deem punk or alternative, but maybe there’s more of that in the big cities. I can’t help feeling like I stick out even more with my clothing choices than my skin and hair.
We meet the boys outside our dorm. Sophie latches herself onto Tae Hwa immediately, and I’ve got to wonder if there’s something between them. He seems a nice enough guy, from what I can tell—which isn’t much, considering we can’t really talk to each other and our conversations consist basically of awkward smiles.
I fall into step beside Yoon Jae, Jason walking on his other side. I try to keep my gaze from shifting to Sophie’s brother, but I can’t deny that he’s looking particularly cute tonight in his signature skinny jeans and a plaid button-up left open over a white T-shirt. He has the plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms, and there’s a lot of collarbone action going on with the V-neck.
Stop looking, Grace!
Praise God, we get on a bus instead of motorbikes. I fumble for the right coins, embarrassment heating my cheeks, and Yoon Jae has to pay for me before the passengers behind us throw pointy objects at my head.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he assures me as we squish into the crowded aisle and grab onto handles hanging from the ceiling. “I went to America last year, and I could never figure out how the money worked.” He wrinkles his nose. “All the bills are the same color and have old white men on them.”
We ride for nearly two hours before we reach the Incheon city center, and I realize why Sophie wanted to drive her motorbike into town the other day. Once in Incheon, Sophie leads us to a stairwell down to the subway, and I swallow a groan. More traveling?
But once we descend into the belly of the underground metro, my mouth literally falls open. Instead of a train platform and turnstiles, the long tunnel is packed full of stalls overflowing with clothes, jewelry, trinkets, and anything else you could want to buy. We’re not taking the subway to the mall—this is the mall.
Sophie takes the lead, and we pass a furniture store standing opposite a perfume shop and a nail salon beside a pharmacy. The white tiled floors and chrome ceiling still look like a subway station, but the crowds aren’t rushing to make their trains.
“So, where do we want to eat?” Sophie asks. “Western or no?”
Everyone looks to me, and I hold both hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Hey, I don’t care. I can eat Western food every day at home, so you guys get whatever you want.”
They decide on a restaurant off the main tunnel, which offers both Korean and Western food. The waitress comes to take our order, but she just stares, the wheels of her brain turning and reflecting on her face. Suddenly, her entire expression lights up, and she cries out something that makes Jason wince. He shakes his head, and Yoon Jae pitches in, waving his hands in front of his face, but the woman isn’t dissuaded. She points at the three boys, then fishes out her phone, and before I can protest, Sophie’s shoved me off the bench and the waitress has taken my seat and is getting a picture with Eden.
Heads are turning throughout the restaurant, phones pulled out of purses and pockets, an excited murmur buzzes in the air. The waitress bows her head and says, “Gomapseumnida,” which I remember from class means thank you—but don’t ask me what level of formality it is.
The waitress leaves, but she’s soon replaced by more fans and, thirty seconds later, there’s a swarm of people snapping pictures and pushing pens at the three boys. I lose Sophie in the crowd, getting shoved toward the back. I pull in a sharp breath when an elbow jabs into my side and, gritting my teeth, I swim back to the front.
“Sophie!” I shout.
“Grace!” She reaches through the crowd, over shoulders, until she grasps my hand and pulls me forward.
Yoon Jae and Tae Hwa sign autographs and throw up peace signs for pictures, but Jason stays behind them, staring at the ground and scowling whenever a flash goes off.
The mass of bodies pushes at my back and pins me against our table until it hurts, but no matter how many dirty looks I throw over my shoulder, the crowd doesn’t let up. Before I can get completely run over, Sophie steps between the band and their admirers, and shouts something over the hum of voices. And with the skill of a manager or handler, she ushers the boys out of the restaurant and onto the main walkway.