summer has always been the hardest - johnny suh

1

two years ago: solana and johnny's first week of sophomore year

"Solana Pierre?"

"Here!" I reply, trying not to sound too excited.

I've never been a fan of school. Being around people drains me, and I'd rather keep to myself. But dance? That's different. I've loved dancing ever since my mom signed me up for ballet when I was four, hoping it would wear me out enough to stop bouncing off the walls. It didn't, but it did ignite something in me. So when I found out our school finally had a dance team, I had to try out.

Umina, the team captain, finishes calling roll and goes over the rules. She hands out a list of approved songs and dance styles, but honestly, I've already picked my song in my head. I'm confident I've got this.

As soon as I get home, I head straight to the garage to practice. I lose track of time, dancing for hours, until Liam, my older brother, storms in.

"What the hell, Solana?!"

I pause mid-spin as he paces angrily in front of me. "You ate all the noodles! Again! I cook actual food, but no, you just stuff your face with sodium-packed junk. You're gonna die before you hit thirty, I swear."

"Attituuuude," I sing-song, trying not to laugh.

"This isn't funny! You're seriously sick in the head. I can't have anything in this house without you raiding it."

I crack up. "Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over cup ramen?"

He glares. "It's not just the ramen! It's your whole... vibe. You know what, just go to the corner store and get more, please."

I roll my eyes but grab my shoes and sweatshirt. "You see how nice I'm being right now? Maybe try that sometime."

"Whatever. I'm just trying to look out for you. Sodium, Solana! It's killing you!"

Liam is such a drama queen. I shove my earbuds in and head out. I hate this route. We live on the edge of suburban Chicago, and this area leads more into the city—more crowded, more chaotic. I don't do crowds. I turn up the music and focus on getting to the store as fast as possible.

Suddenly, I feel someone bump into me, hard. Cold splashes against my chest.

"Shit. Oh my God, I am so sor—Solana?"

I look up, and of all people, it's John Suh. Just my luck.

I glance down to see my brand-new cream-colored sweatshirt stained with what looks like cherry Slurpee.

"Solana?" he says again, looking almost confused.

I glare at the red mess on my clothes and back up at him, not really in the mood to deal with a guy like John.

"You do talk, right?" he presses. "I mean, I never hear you talk in class."

"You ruined my sweatshirt," I mutter.

He looks sheepish. "Right, uh, I'm really sorry. Here, I'll pay for a new one." He hands me a crumpled twenty.

"Thanks."

"I'm Johnny, by the way."

"I know who you are, John. We've been in the same classes for years."

He gives me a half-smile. "I kinda go by Johnny, but... yeah, okay. I should get going. But hey, it was nice talking to you! We should do it more often." He flashes me a grin and walks off.

I just stand there, wondering what the hell just happened.

Later that night, I'm lying in bed reading when my phone buzzes with a Snapchat notification. I never use Snapchat. Who even—?

It's John. I hesitate before opening the message:

Hey, not sure if I apologized earlier, but I really am sorry about your sweatshirt. I don't want us to get off on the wrong foot :)

To anyone else, it might seem like John's just being nice. But I know better. Guys like John Suh are all the same—friendly and charming on the surface, but shallow, only caring about themselves. I'm not falling for it. Not a chance.

I ignore the message and go to sleep.

The next morning:

"Solana! Wait up!"

I cringe. Not again. I turn to see John jogging up to me as I walk to class. Does he not get that I'm not interested?

"You're fast," he pants, catching his breath. "Do you have an issue with me or something? I swear, I'm really sorry about the sweatshirt."

I sigh. "No, I don't. It's fine."

His smile falters. "Then why do you act like I don't exist? You've been like this since middle school."

Did I really hurt his feelings? I didn't think someone like him would care. "I didn't think you'd notice," I admit quietly.

"Why wouldn't I notice? We've had classes together for years. I always thought we'd be friends by now. Yesterday felt like... I don't know, fate." He grins sheepishly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Fate?"

"Yeah, you know what I mean." He starts walking again. "So, what are you doing after school?"

"I have dance tryouts."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his face light up like a cartoon. "Really? Can I come watch?"

"Yes, and absolutely not."

"Why not? I could cheer you on!" He throws his arms up in mock excitement as we walk into biology class.

"Because up until yesterday, I didn't even realize you knew who I was," I say, sitting down at my desk.

He sits down next to me, smirking. "Well, now you know."