But we’re greeted by more camera phones and people eager for a celebrity spotting. Sophie grabs my wrist, and we lead the way through the now-packed tunnel. Fingers brush mine from behind, and I glance back to see Yoon Jae reaching for me. He snags my hand, and our entire group makes a train as we weave through the crowd.
I tilt my chin up to suck down a breath of cool air. With bodies pressing against us and cameras flashing from every side, my pulse climbs, sending adrenaline-laced blood through my veins. I’ve been with Nathan when fans spotted him, but I’ve never seen this kind of mob in the States.
We climb up a flight of stairs and emerge back onto the street, but Sophie doesn’t stop—and no one lets go of hands. Jogging, she leads us down a darkened alley, then another and another, until no one’s behind us anymore.
She stops beside a Dumpster, and I press my palm against the brick building beside us, trying to mask my panting breaths.
“That was … kind of crazy,” I say.
Yoon Jae catches my eye, and we stare at each other for a couple seconds before we both crack up, and then everyone except for Jason is laughing.
“Maybe we should go back to school,” Yoon Jae says.
“Seriously? And let the crazies get the best of us?” Sophie sniffs. “We should go eat dinner and have fun, just to prove we can.”
Still laughing, we follow Sophie through the winding back alleys of Incheon until we find a restaurant so far off the main roads it doesn’t even feel like we’re in the same city. A fishy smell lingers outside the restaurant’s door, and I wrinkle my nose as we go inside and squeeze onto two wooden benches. The customers are all over fifty, and no one gives the boys a second glance.
The others peruse the Korean menu, and Yoon Jae offers to read me the choices.
“Just order me whatever sounds good,” I say.
He studies the list. “Do you like fish?”
“Umm…”
He smiles. “You don’t.”
“Well, if that’s what they specialize in here, that’s fine. I’ll be brave. Make memories and whatnot.”
I’m thinking confident thoughts until our plates arrive. The bits I get stare up at me in menace, their smell daring me to take a bite and not vomit. I glare right back.
“I thought you wanted to be brave,” Yoon Jae says with a sly grin.
I shoot him a mock glare, then hold my breath as I take a bite and chew. No gagging. Swallow. I did it!
Yoon Jae slips his phone out of his pocket. “Pick up another piece.”
I obey, and he snaps a picture, then twists the phone around so I can see the image. “Now you can show all your friends in America that you ate fish in Korea,” he says.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air.
He chuckles, dipping his own food into a small bowl of soy sauce. “You’re funny.”
For some reason, this comment raises a flush to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. But when I look over and see Jason staring at me, the heat that was warming my face turns cold, and I focus my attention back on my food.
Chapter Five
We all exit the restaurant together. We make our way in the direction of the bus station, but we’re on the complete opposite side of town and can’t take back alleys all the way there, so we have to merge back into the more crowded streets. The boys keep their heads down, and Jason goes so far as to slide on a pair of sunglasses, despite the dark.
Sophie leads, as per usual, and Tae Hwa drifts to the front of the group to stand beside her, leaving Yoon Jae, me, and Jason to trail them in awkward silence. I take advantage of the silence to study the Incheon streets and the trendy young people filling them. The boys are all well dressed, with perfectly styled hair, and the girls look like they walked straight out of a fashion catalogue. Watching them pound their skinny butts down the sidewalk in sky-high heels makes me feel very American and very fat.
We try shopping in some of the less-crowded shops, but no one has the energy anymore after the fan mob, especially when other patrons start recognizing the band and pulling out cell phones. When Yoon Jae suggests we head back to the bus station, we all quickly agree.
The station is packed with people. Sophie gets in line at the counter to buy our tickets, and I stand with the boys in an out-of-the-way corner, where they try to keep from being noticed. But no matter where I position myself, I keep getting hit by people walking by, their travel backpacks slamming into my arm or their luggage rolling over my toes.
The crowded space reminds me of the last concert of Nathan’s I attended, of being surrounded by thousands of screaming fans who had paid lots of money just to hear him sing. It was a huge show, and I wanted to experience it like a normal person, albeit front row.
My friend Marcy and I had staked out our spots up front hours before they opened the doors. When the crowds had arrived, we got pressed up against the metal rails for the entire show, but it was so much more fun than standing backstage. I was caught up in the excitement, the enthusiasm of everyone spilling over onto me.
Of course, excitement transformed into terror when Nathan passed out in the middle of the show. That was the first day I realized Nathan’s drug habit could be dangerous, that it could ruin his career and his health.
I shake off the memory, shoving down any feelings it inspires. This isn’t the place for those kinds of thoughts. I can’t afford to dwell on them now, not with this many people around. Not when they could see me lose my grip on my emotions.
Especially since I haven’t talked to Marcy in months. I haven’t talked to any of my friends since the beginning of summer. At some point, their calls and texts and emails stopped—probably when they realized I was never going to answer them.