"time is the master of all things."
after the death of their grandfather, yang yubin has no choice but to move her and her younger brother from seoul to a small town just outside of busan. a cunning and resilient girl, she is quick to gain the trust...
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02.12.18 13:47:09
Y A N G Y U B I N
"when the conditions are met and the null hypothesis is true, we can closely model this statistic by..." mrs. min's monotone voice slowly distorts itself in my mind i begin to drift off elsewhere. my head hurts so much that my eyelids burn, and my body feels heavy, like a cement block is around my feet, pulling, pulling, pulling me under.
i suppose working such a long shift at the store didn't improve my already nonexistent sleep schedule.
imagine that.
i prop my head up on my hand as the classroom shifts in and out of focus. just as i begin to doze off, i hear a quiet and sharp pst along with the soft sound of paper hitting my desk.
frowning, i look up in search of the source.
a boy across the aisle to my right catches my eye. i've seen him before, it think. in the cafeteria. i'm almost certain he's one of the thugs my new "friends" had warned me about.
he's a strange looking guy, which i attribute somewhat to the odd feeling i have in my stomach when our cold eyes meet. his features are sharp and somewhat symmetric save for his nose which slants a bit to the right and bulges a bit, implying it's been broken once or twice. his hair is untidy like his uniform, and his left eyebrow has one slit in it without hair. i can't tell if it was intentional or not.
he eagerly gestures for me to read it.
with a huff of annoyance at the childish act, my curiosity gets the better of me.
"you're the new girl who hangs around the populars, right?"
i fight the urge to roll my eyes as i keep my head down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as i write a short reply.
"who wants to know?"
i wait until mrs. min's back is turned to toss it across the aisle.
i try my best to understand the box plots she's projected on the board until the same paper is returned to me, much to my chagrin.
"my name isn't important. i'm just passing on a message from my friend, woo hansol. you've probably heard of him."
i raise an eyebrow at the note. red flags shooting up, waiving frantically in my mind, tell me i need to be smart about how i reply. the girls in the lunchroom had told me about his friend, and the things i heard weren't good at all. i admit that it does strike a fearful chord in me somewhere. and yet, my pride overpowers my fight or flight response once again.
