Chapter 1: Things Are Changing

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I came back from school very tired. As I walked in, I saw my father. He looked different. He was wearing a black suit and tie. His dark brown hair was combed to side and his emerald eyes gleamed with happiness. This is unnatural. "Sweetie, I have good news" he said.

"What is it?" I asked him," as I threw myself on the leather couch.

"I got a job!" He exclaimed. I felt a rush of happiness and got up to give him a hug. Gone were the days of him sitting on the couch all day while eating Cheetos in his underwear. Finally he can get out of the house and make some money. " This is great! I'm so proud of you!" I said as I broke away from the hug.

"Yes. Yes, but there is a minor  problem...my job is in Korea. So we'll have to move and leave in four days" Wait. Wait. What!? Okay let's backtrack. "I'm sorry but what?" I muttered.

"It will be great! We will have money and you will be going to a prestigious high school. Remember how you said you wanted an iphone 6s? Well I can get it for you now."I stood there speechless as he rambled on. "You'll make so many friends. You'll be able to see your grandmother, and your aunts and uncles, and cousins-"

"But Dad," I interrupted, "What about my friends? My school? Dad, we have a life here. I don't want to leave, we can't leave." I could feel feel my head start hurt as I processed all of this.

"Honey, I know this is all so sudden, but I really need this job. Friends come and go but family must always stay together. So you have to come with me no matter what." I could feel anger start to build within me. I couldn't muster up an argument. Not right now. Not as head spun in circles like this. "Look Dad, can we just talk about this later?" I said as I stressfully rubbed my eyebrow.

"Yeah sure," he replied, his happiness now deflated. I walked into my room slightly angry, but mostly sad. I didn't want to get angry at Dad, because in truth I was still very proud of him. For the past two months he had been unemployed. He spent most days in front of the television and sleeping till noon. I had even begun to think he was depressed. So now that he was back on his feet, well dressed, and confident, I wanted to feel happy for him. I really did, but how could I now, knowing that his happiness came at the cost of mine?

I opened the doors of my closet revealing the piles of unhung clothes on the floor and scattered shoes. I had been meaning to clean this for almost a month now, but I keep pushing it back. Now I really wish I had. I kicked through the heaps of clothes and pulled out a grey suitcase with white polkadots. I laid it on my bed and opened it. Carefully I looked through my closet, picking out the most important things first. My favorite ripped denim jeans, shirts, shorts jewelry, and shoes.

As I took the stuff to my bed I noticed the picture frame on my nightstand. It was a picture of Mom, Dad, and me. I picked it up and tried to remember. I was just a baby then, no more than six months. Mom was holding me and we stood in front of a big two-story house. Dad had told me it was my grandmother's house. My eyes shifted back to my mom. My Dad always said I was the spitting image of her. I had inherited most of her Korean features and almost none of my Dad's American ones. I had the same light brown hair, fair skin, and dark chocolate eyes. To me, my looks were the only true connection I had to my Korean heritage. I could only speak broken Korean and knew next to nothing about the culture. So how was I supposed to fit in? I continued to gaze at the photo and wished she was here. 

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