King Kim :: 왕김

장 10 십

NAM-JOON

Brooklyn keeps her grasp on my forearm as we walk down the hallways leading me to the gym doors. She rests her head on my arm. She sighs, "Well, here we are." She gestures to the double doors, "The locker room should be on your left."

The bell rings, and she looks up, throwing her head back with exaggeration. "Ugh, I'm late again."

The gym door suddenly opens to a hefty man with a whistle in his hand. He stops and looks at Brooklyn and me with annoyance.

"Oh, come on, Brooklyn, I don't need you distracting anymore of my boys." He waves me into the doorway.

"But Coach, I was just showing him around.." She whines, "It's Kai's first day here."

He glares at me intently, "I see that. You need to get to class."

She releases her grip on me, and I walk towards the doors, "Can I have a late pass?" She whines even more, "Pleaseee.."

He huffs, digging into his pocket to grab a pen and a notebook, and rips out a sheet. Before I walk past, he hands the piece of paper to me. "Here, son, this is your locker number and combo. The locker room is down there." He points, directing me left. "I'll be in there after I give Miss Summers her pass. There are gym clothes in there for you given by the school." He pats my back. I nod.

Trying to get away from Brooklyn as fast as possible, I find myself entering the locker room. Loud clangs of lockers being slammed shut, half-naked guys, and the aroma of body odor fill the room. I am already disgusted.

I quickly read my note: Locker #106 - Combo: 10-32-05

I follow the numbers down until I reached locker 106. Staring at the rounded silver lock, I have no clue how to open it.

"Have you never seen a lock before?" A voice behind me calls out.

I turn, and before I can answer, another voice says, "James, locks are made in China. Of course, he's seen one." He laughs. We make direct eye contact, and he laughs harder.

"Yo, Michael. Can you guess who I am?" The same boy takes his fingers and pulls back the sides of his eyes, making them more slanted. They both continue to mock and point at me.

I grit my teeth and bite my tongue, holding back the anger—Racist bastards.

"Cute necklace, though!" One of them teases. I look down at my chest, forgetting I even had it on. I tuck it back into my shirt. "I wonder if his mommy gave it to him."

"Awe, guys. Leave him alone. He doesn't even speak English." Dylan banters. He walks up to me, taking my locker combo out of my hands. "Let me help you." He twists and spins the combo in and unlocks the locker. I could still hear the other boys snicker and taunt behind me. I shove my bag and my jacket into the locker.

I grab at the school's gym clothes, taking off my shirt about to change.

"You. Are. Welcome." He says to me as if I didn't comprehend him.

"Thank. You." I say back in the same manner.

Shocked, he stands back. "Bros! He does speak English!" He shouts with laughter.

"Yeah, and I could probably steal your girl too." I spat back in my best American accent.

The whole locker room is stunned. They began hollering and echoing "Oooo's" and "Damn's" at my comment.

"What did you just say to me?" Dylan growls and snatches my gym shirt out of my hands. The room goes silent.

"I mean, Brooklyn was all over him at lunch." A boy to the side said lowly under his breath, "And he's only been here for one day." He snickers to the others.

"James, shut up." Dylan snarls, whipping his head around, slamming his hand on the lockers.

Bare-chested, I stand there fisting my hand out of rage.

He darts back with his eyes pierced directly at me, "Look here, pretty boy. I don't know how they did things back where you're from, but here you show respect to the ones that were actually born in this country."

I clenched my jaw hard, sucking in my cheeks, preventing myself from saying anything foul. The anger builds within me, burning for a release, my head and heart start pounding.

"We don't need you, foreigners, ruining everything for us." He says vulgarly, "Go back to where you came from."

My blood boils, and my veins begin to feel hot.

Before Dylan walks away, I hear someone say, "Woah, his necklace lights up too!" Cracking their final joke.

I look down once more to see the stone glowing. The room becomes silent, and everyone starts to stare.

Obviously taken back myself, I take notice at my forearms and see an electric blue glow racing down my veins. My breathing hitches and my eyes start to dilate until I see nothing but outlines of the people around me.

"Oh my god, his eyes." I hear someone whisper.

A strong urge of anger overcomes me, and I begin to scream. My vocal cords burn from its intensity. Everyone steps back out of horror.

I am still breathing heavily, and it almost feels like my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I can't control it. I feel like I am about to explode. I grunt harshly and turn away from the stares. I close my eyes.

What is happening to me?

As if it was almost involuntary, I take my fist and strike it against my locker. A vigorous current surges out of me and ricochets off the row of lockers. I can feel the vibrations waving in and out. I look up wide-eyed to see a blue glow that surrounds me and the lockers. I glance down to find my fist inches deep into the door, crushing it. Blood starts to drip down from my hand to my wrist.

After a few moments, everything seems to calm down suddenly. I slowly peer back over my shoulder, seeing the other boys' faces and backs glued against their lockers in fear. Some of them even run out.

I gasp while trying to hold myself together in wincing pain. My eyes are settling back to normal, and I find my stone is dull again. Looking back up, everyone begins whispering to each other.

"What the hell was that?"

"What a crazy freak."

"Jesus Christ, did you just see that?"

Intensely searching around the room, my eyes land on the back door, and without hesitation, I dart out.