Some girls do

Chapter 16: Kazuha

I couldn't sleep last night.

My mom called after dinner saying there was yet another complication with the "St. Mary's thing," as she's taken to calling it lately, and that my team needed another essay about what happened and the impact it had on my "emotional well-being."

Between that and my earlier conversation with Chaewon, I was so riled up that I spent the next two hours writing countless drafts, until it turned from a short, professional statement into a rage-filled ten-page missive about everything effed up at St. Mary's and how the culture of conservatism and homophobia in such an elite academic atmosphere impacted not just me but other kids that I won't name out of fear for their safety. Kids that turned their backs on me so fast when things went down. Kids like Yeh Shuhua, my first kiss and longest friend, whose parents made her block my number before the ink was even dry on my transfer.

Turns out, spite is a powerful motivator.

But when I finally closed my laptop and regained some semblance of calmness, I still couldn't stop running through my conversation with Chaewon. I lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying to shove all the puzzle pieces of our interactions together—though at this point I'm not even sure if they're from the same set.

By midnight, I resolved to ask her flat out. But by two a.m., the doubt slipped back. What if you make a fool of yourself again? it whispered. Or worse?

And yet this morning, I'm still searching the hallways between classes, hoping for a glimpse of her—as if seeing her again will somehow make it all make sense. Or maybe the truth is, I don't care if it all makes sense. I just want to see her. I try to will away the excitement as I walk into Government, our only shared class and the one place she can't avoid me, because I know Bangchan is right. I deserve more. But . . . Wonyoung sits down beside me, and I'm only half listening as she goes over the logistics of our next meet, which I'm still not allowed to compete in. There has been absolutely no movement with my waiver—it's like St. Mary's hit pause on my entire future—but I really can't think about that right now.

I try to keep up with the conversation, nodding and saying "uh-huh" at appropriate intervals, while keeping my eyes fixed on Chaewon's empty spot, my heart thrumming double speed while I wait for her to appear.

She eventually bustles in with her headphones on, her backpack bumping against my elbow as she pushes past without so much as an apology. I want to know what she's listening to. I want to know what she likes.

My mind wanders, imagining us lying side by side, sharing her knockoff AirPods. Chaewon with her hair splayed out beneath her. Me on my side, propped up on my elbow to see her better, waiting for just the right moment in the song to lean forward and—

What? Chaewon mouths from across the way, her forehead crinkling. Crap, I've been staring this whole time. I look away, squirming in my seat and turning my attention to Wonyoung.

"So, um, will Coach put Yujin in the sixteen hundred again since I'm out?"

"Hello, Kazuha, welcome to the conversation." She raises her eyebrows. "Glad to know I've been talking to myself for the last five minutes."

"Sorry, I was zoning out."

"Yeah, I caught that," she says with a pointed glance in Chaewon's direction. My face must look nothing short of terrified, because she quickly adds, "Or whatever," and pulls out her book. Yujin drops into the seat beside us just as the bell rings.

"Okay, class, let's get started," Mrs. Bae says with a huge smile. "You know what today is, right?"

A couple students, including Chaewon, groan in their seats. I lean toward Wonyoung and whisper, "What's today?"