diet of lies

Chapter 11~ P'il Chae

IT WAS MONDAY WHEN I UNLEASHED THE FORCE OF MY KNEECAP ON JIMINS GENITALIA. Now, its Friday and that bastard haven't even shown up to school a day since then. Honestly, it's a blessing in disguise.

***

    "You did-WHAT!" Ki shrieks. Her eyes are almost bulging out of her head.
"You heard." I scoop some mushy carrots off my lunch tray and pop them into my mouth. They taste bland and terrible but I still choose to swallow them, as this is my food source for the day.
"Why on earth would you do that Chae!" Her voice raises to compensate for the loudness of the cafeteria. Ki sits on the bench like it was a saddle.
"I told him to get lost, and he refused." I lie.
"Yeah uh-huh. I'm not buying that crap." Ki crosses her arms.
    "Why not. It's the truth."
"No, it's not. Don't even try to say it is."
    "I just did."
Ki rolls her eyes. "There's something you're not telling me, Chae. I mean, you wouldn't take your knee to the new guys baby-maker for something that ridiculous. You'd just give him the bird and walk away. So spill the real tea."
"You're not gonna like what I have to say." I poke my spoon at the veggies on my lunch tray.
"Yeah, I'm sure I won't. But anything's better than that lie you just tried to sell me." Ki arches her eyebrow.
"Fine, I'll talk." I gulp down my remainder of disgusting carrots.

"Jimin was being a perv and was getting really touchy with me, so I kneed his dick,"
Ki chokes on her tater tot and starts coughing uncontrollably. A minor smile appears on my face remembering Jimin's pain. But then I confuse that joy with sorrow, and the smile slips away like fresh dew on a morning leaf.
    "Chae, please, oh please tell me you're kidding!" She frets desperately. I shake my head nonchalantly.
"Oh my goodness! Are you alright?"
I can see how Ki's eyes are glossy, but I'm not sure if it was from her food passing down the wrong pipe or because she's that upset.
    "I'm okay, can't say the same for Jimin though." I shrug.
Ki's let out a tiny giggle, but her worries soon surface again.
    "You should tell the guidance counselor o-or the principal or just someone." She twirls a piece of her hair between her nimble fingers with nervousness.
"Erm-No. I'm not going to do that." I shove more slop in my mouth.
     "Why not! He was trying to rape you!" Ki's inner mom's voice was 'trying' to put down her foot. I scrunch my whole face tightly like I just ate something putridly sour.
     "Ki,"
"Hmm?"
I face her completely. "He didn't 'rape' me." I swipe my utensil at her.
"No, but he could've!" She slaps her palms onto her thighs.
    "It's fine Ki."
She grunts, kicking her head back. "If you're not going to notify the school then what are you gonna do?   
"Does it really matter that much?"
"I mean, maybe not. I guess you just need to make sure you avoid him."
    "That's impossible."
"How come?"   
    "I share a couple of classes with him."
"Change your schedule." Ki spits her words.
   "Ki. I can handle Jimin. Just like I did before,"
"Ha, yeah right. Next time will result in his murder." She chugs her milk like it's a whole shot of vodka.
    "You know me too well," I reach past Ki and snatch a tater tot off her tray. Earning a glare of 'how dare you to touch my food'.

Suddenly, the rumble of the cafeteria weakens and heads turn towards the entrance of the lunchroom. Some students pour to the doorway in large groups. Following cheers and whistles. Ki and I knew what this meant. As expected Ji Yuna, the hottest and most powerful girl in school strolls into the cafeteria. She's wearing a scampy look as always with fashionable heels. Some members of a sports team lift up her onto a lunch table. Yuna smiles at the men that helped her.
    "Attention! Gugeum High school!" She stomps her high heels on the table. The entire cafeteria swallows silence.
She grins. "I am hosting a party at my mansion. Daddy and Mommy are on a business trip to Japan. Everyone is invited to come." She whips her platinum blonde hair around.
    "I'm hiring a professional Dj. There will also be plenty of food and 'good stuff'." Yuna winks at her last words. Ki turns her body and gawks at me.    
    "The good stuff?" She's puzzled.
"Alcohol." I chomp on another tater tot.
Ki's face lowers with an "oh."
    "It starts at 9 p.m. Be there." Yuna signals that she's done with her announcement. Everyone claps for her like she's done something truly heroic. Which she was. She's giving these teenagers a chance to get sloppy and wasted.
"Wanna go?" Ki said shyly.
     "I'd rather not." I pick up my cartoon of milk and drink.
"I don't think It'd be that bad."
I look at Ki. "A bunch of under-age intoxicated bodies mingling to the sound of music. Fun times." I mock.
    "Well then." She makes a sigh dipped in disappointment.
I glanced back at Yuna and her following of brainwashed, preppy chics: The worst cancer.

     "I've never gone to one of her parties, and quite frankly I'd like to keep it that way." My words came out meaner than I would have liked. Ki glares at me like I've killed a puppy, and I feel a tiny bubble of guilt brim to the surface.
     "It's okay Ki," I rub her shoulder.
"Maybe we can do something. Just us instead." She smiles at me weakly. But, I feel even worse.
     "I-I'm sorry Ki but I'm busy,"
"I understand." Ki doesn't try to look at me. Queuing that she's upset.
     "I'm sorry," I repeat. But Ki only bobs her head.
"It's fine, Chae." No, it's not.
I don't have much time to sit here and work out dates. So I hug Ki briskly but with lots of love.
"I have to study for a test, I'll catch you later." I squeak, excusing myself.

***

     I never had any sort of test to study for. I snuck off the school grounds using the empty girls' locker room as my escape route. The locker room's my best hideaway. No school security person checks for ditchers there.
Plus, it's practical to use the locker room. You can slip out the gym doors that lead to the sports field and dash across the lawn into the woods unnoticed. I know a secret path deep in the heart of the tree line that leads to the outskirts of town. It's where I can easily reach my 'job'.

My bag seems excessively heavy. I don't know if it's the physical shit burdening me from inside the durable fabric or just the hallucinatory pressure of existing. But I can't rest. Not until I get my money or else I'm getting a new score of cuts and bruises. That's if this thorn-lined brush on the trail doesn't snag me first. I cleaned out most of the bastards one boring day but I still have a good chance of looking like I ran through a scissor factory.

I savor these trips, admits the cloak of skinny and broad wood. It's always a constant source of comfort inside their silent ease, providing a certain kind of distraction for me. It's impossible not to get happy here-- when I can pace my own legs because for once I'm not running from something or someone. Here, I can let go. Let go of my broken life, my battle scars, my bad attitude. Here I can forget, only for a moment, that my parents don't love me and that they never had an ounce of love in their hearts. I can forget that I'm dangerous: that real people are terrified of my power. I can forget how I work underneath the law. And I can fleetingly black-out that I was made into a young monster by my aunt's gang. In retrospect, it's pointless, because I'll never outrun what I hate about myself. I'm almost cursed. My exterior might have been crafted by impenetrable stone, but my heart's consistency was constructed by the glass. And to protect your concealed, flimsy organ you learn early on that you thrive alone. Your supreme expectation is to lead a life legacy of 'a table for one' forever. It's better that way. It's safer that way. It's the only way.  I'm luckier dead at this point. As the saying goes; 'I'm not living, only existing.' There is a difference.

The clearing to the abandoned road grows ahead against the crowded woods. I gingerly step my boots onto the dark asphalt and start walking south. Work will be another hour-or-so away, so I snake my earbuds out from my uniform pocket. My fingers worked under my hood and rig the buds into my ears. I power on my phone and select shuffle. Ahead of my game, I also grab the ace bandages out the side pocket of my bookbag and begin wrapping my knuckles. When I'm finished I rest my hands warmly inside my coat pockets. I do this routine before work. I think I'm unconsciously doing it to prepare myself forehand, so once I get there and my raunchy manager tells me what he's booked me into I'm not as stirred. I'm readying myself for a work choice of pain.  I wish my life came with a warning label.