daybreak || minsung

Chapter 4

The rest of the week was unexciting. By Friday, most faces I saw, I could put a name to. The other kids started to get to know me as well. It started feeling normal to sit with Jessica and her friends, normal to eat with Charlie in silence, normal to stalk through the rain everyday. I fell into the humdrum routine of it.

Jisung Han didn't come back to school.

At first, I watched his siblings' table, my heart beating faster until the five of them settled in their seats, always without him. Then I'd relax, breathe, and be able to pay attention to whatever Jessica and Co. were chirping about that day. They mostly talked about a trip to La Push beach that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I shrugged out a confirmation, but it was more out of politeness than any real desire. Beaches around Forks were always cold and windy — the opposite of what a beach should be.

For all I knew, Jisung had dropped out of school. A feeling of responsibility etched its way into my mind whenever I thought about What Happened with him. It was stupid to think I'd had anything to do with his disappearance... but to see it as merely a coincidence reeked of fish more than Charlie when he returned from the docks.

I spent my time cleaning, doing homework, napping, and writing my mom more ridiculous e-mails. I did go to the Forks library on Saturday, but it was poorly stocked, dusty, and had roughly double the amount of Library Perverts essential, so I skipped getting a card. I made a mental note to plan a trip to Olympia or Seattle to find a bookstore.

It was chilly on Monday morning, giving the tops of my ears freezer burn, but not raining. In class, Mike sat on my desk and blabbed until our English teacher yelled at him to get to his seat. We had a quiz on some 'classics' I'd already read. Straight forward, easy enough.

All things considered, I felt way more comfortable here than I'd expected to. It was welcomed, but unsettling. It was sort of my worst nightmare to — shudder — become a Forks person. Not just a person who lived in Forks, but a person who belonged in Forks. A person who fit in and put down roots. I put the thought in a box and locked it, set the key on fire, swallowed the key, and then set myself on fire as well.

When we got outside, it was snowing. I growled and held my mitts over my ears as the wind nipped at my skin. I could hear the other students, shrieking and bleating childishly — no doubt in a snowball fight already.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I sniffed. The cold air hurt my nose. "Goddamnit."

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No. That means it's too cold for rain — which I don't like, either. And these snowflakes are dumb. Aren't they supposed to be all unique and one-of-a-kind? This shit just looks like a lot of dandruff or something."

He ignored the inside of my brain spilling out of my mouth. "Haven't you ever seen snowfall?"

"On TV."

Mike was about to respond, but a hunk of brown-white snow hit him in the back of the head. We turned in unison. Eric was walking away from us — whistling aloofly like a cartoon character. Mike bent down to scrape together a ball of mush from the sidewalk.

"See you at lunch," I said, already trudging away. Mike nodded, but he was focussed on Eric.

I was on high alert as I walked to the cafeteria with Jessica. I was ready to use my binder as a shield if necessary; I kept it hovered in front of my nose. Jessica thought I was being funny, but there must have been something in my expression that kept her from hurling a snowball herself.

Mike joined us; laughing and dripping from head to toe, his hair unintentionally messy for once. He and Jessica talked animatedly about the snowball fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced to the five's table out of habit.