Flowers and Broken Hearts

Eleven Years Ago

Kim Chin An, 12, Eleven Years Ago

Kim Chin An had seen different kinds of haircuts. Layered, cropped, mohawks- you name it. So it was normal for her to stumble down the hallways to her class to see oceans of different shades, colors, and cuts of hair, with all familiar faces for she may have crossed paths with everybody in school one way or another. Like that one girl over there, who was just closing her locker.

Chin has photographic memory. People would say, "Oh, wow." whenever she mentioned this to them, saying they wished they had that ability, but in real life all it does is annoy the hell out of you.

So, in one way or another, Chin knew every face at school. Someone would just have to pass her, then suddenly she'd remember them, associating their faces with their hairs, and she'd be like," Hey, isn't that the awfully big nosed and green haired dude who smiled at me from the cafeteria line?". That way, Chin was never bored, especially on the way to classes.

She remembered especially that girl she was jealous of that had that really cool haircut where you have to have enough courage have to shave half your head and let the other half down in cascading waves. It was real awesome, a haircut Chin wanted but never had courage to actually do it.

Anyway, yeah. One way or another, Chin knew every face there was in school.

Or so she thought.

Because Chin had never seen this girl in her whole school. Like, ever.

Chin was passing the Head's office that time, when she saw her. Smiling at the Head's assistant, sitting on a wheelchair.

One look at her and boy, oh boy, was Chin taken aback.

The girl was thin, really thin, like if Chin held her wrist, she'd manage to touch her own thumb with her index finger. That thin. She was deadly pale, and her pupil were so black you'd get scared if she stared at you. She also had those green oxygen nose thingies, including an IV pole. Her lips were so dry Chin could see it peeling from where she stood and most importantly, most importantly, she was bald.

Bald. Like, no hair, no eyebrows.

Bald.

Right at that, Chin knew that this girl was probably sick. Something like cancer. But then the bell rang, twice, and she noticed that no one was left in the hallways except for her. She had to run to catch her class, cursing, forgetting as soon as she reached her class the baldy girl she'd seen.

But now, as Chin waited outside the ER, waiting for those doctors to mend her father's bones, she couldn't help but stare and recognize the girl beside her.

It was baldy girl.

She glanced at her. She wasn't that bald anymore, she had at least a very thin layer of black and brown hair now that was not too covered by the green bonnet she wore. She wasn't that thin anymore too, although Chin was probably still 20 pounds heavier than her. In other words, she kind of got healthier.

Kind of. But not really.

Baldy girl caught her stare. If Baldy girl had eyebrows, she was sure it would have been raised. Chin's face flushed, and she opened her mouth to apologize, but she received a smile instead of a glare.

"Hey."

Chin gave an awkward wave. "H-hi."

"Waiting for someone, huh?" The girl pointed to the ER, and her IV lines moved as she raised her hand.

Chin nodded. "Yeah." She was trying hard not to stare, so she focused instead at Baldy girl's bonnet. "Dad slipped on the stupid driveway and somehow broke both his arm and leg."

The girl winced sympathetically. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

Silence grew, and Chin started feeling uncomfortable enough to actually start thinking whether she should or should not start small talk. And just so you know, Chin never encouraged small talk. But baldy girl interrupted the silence anyway, so never mind.

"I'm Song Jinhee, by the way." A hand was extended to Chin.

"Kim Chin An." She took it.

"Cool name."

"Thanks."