𝖷1 𝖨𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

16. No Crying At School

In order to get the end of the year scholarship, a lot of things have to be done. You have to be in a certain number of clubs, participate in so many school activities, be an avid member in the school's community, among other things.

For me, a non participator, this came as a challenge. And that explained why I would never be able to obtain that benefit.

I never tricked myself into thinking I could.

The great Kang Minhee, on the other hand, who has been going to my school for less than two weeks, has already risen high in the rankings.

He's joined homework club, started helping out at the library (to the delight of our librarian), joined a program to help tutor some of the underclass students with learning disabilities, hangs out with both the dance and spirit squads, and I might as well add captured the hearts of pretty much the entire school.

He doesn't even want (or need) the scholarship!

And worst of all, he's somehow convinced me to tag along.

So now here I'm sitting in a classroom for homework club with some admirers of Minhee who think getting on my good side will get him to notice them, and the man of the hour is nowhere to be seen.

"It's a shame that Minhee wasn't here at the beginning of the year. He would have made an awesome class president," one girl says.

"If he bothered to show up at all," I mutter to myself. Half working on my math homework.

"Totally! Did you hear about how he brought some of the kids he's tutoring to the dance club meeting?" Another says.

"Yeah, the kids were so happy to be there and he even danced with them!"

"He's such a sweetheart."

Unconsciously, I shake my head. A small smile takes over my face without my permission.

They're right.

Minhee is a good person.

Really good.

Maybe he's always been.

"Jiah!" I'm brought out of my daze. It's one of the girls calling to me.

When I look up she gestures towards the door. Standing there was a boy I had seen before passing in the hallways but never talked to. He had an unsure facial expression as he waved me over.

Slowly I head over there.

All I could think was: who was this guy and what did he want from me?

"Jiah, right?" He asks me. "Your friends with Minhee?"

I nodded my head, waiting for what he had to say.

What did Minhee do?

"You see, I just had phys. ed and I went into the locker room."

"Yeah, and?"

I was growing impatient.

"Minhee was in there," he looks around to see if anyone is listening in, "and I think he was crying."

My eyebrows scrunch together.

A thousand questions filled my head. Most prominently:

Minhee cries?

I don't think I have ever seen him cry in my life.

"I didn't know who else to go to. I didn't—"

"Yeah, Yeah, Okay. Thanks for telling me," I quieted down the boy.

I walk back over to the table to collect my things. The girls ask if everything was alright. I assured them that everything was fine and I would seem them later. They gave me a cheerful goodbye but I couldn't muster up that kind of emotion at the moment.

Through the entire walk to the gym I tried to remember if Minhee seemed upset at all during the day. At lunch he'd been fine. Smiling and joking. That had been the last time I saw him.

I entered the silent gym. With it being after school, it  was empty.

I debated to myself if entering the boys' locker room was an alright thing to do. Ultimately I enter anyway, with caution.

"Minhee?" My voice echoed off the walls.

Most of the lights were off.

"Here," a soft voice croaked out.

I wind my way through the aisles of lockers and benches to go around a corner to find Minhee sitting on the ground.

Cross-legged he had his arms placed on top of them and his head was bent down.

"Are you okay?" I can't hold back the concern in my tone.

"Who told you?" He mumbles. Not looking up from his lap.

"Doesn't matter," I reply, slowly making my way towards him. "Why don't you look at me?"

"Just go home, I'll meet you there later." His voice was raw. He must have been crying.

"I'm not leaving."

At this point, I was staring down at him. The lack of lighting made it hard to see. He had chosen the exact spot farthest from any of the lights that had been on.

I crouch down. My hands steadily go towards his face in an attempt to look at him directly.

His brown eyes lacked their usual humor. But most noticeably was a small cut on his chin.

That's it?

What, did he get a paper cut and accidentally get some orange juice in it?

I felt relieved.

Yet, holding his face in my hands, I can feel him tremble.

Something's not right.

"What happened?" I ask gently.

He closes his eyes and sighs. He lifts his arms from his legs to reveal two gashes on each knee with drying blood dripped down his shins.