Meant

Ga Eul could hardly believe her eyes. Of all the people to crash into her first day at Shinwha—why did it have to be him?

To make matters worse, one of the guys he’d strolled in with (who was clearly in love with perms) asked, his voice dripping with contempt, “Yi Jeong, you know this girl?”

What stood out to Ga Eul was the name he’d been addressed with: Yi Jeong. So Yi Jeong? Her mind furiously attempted to make sense of this information. He’s So Yi Jeong? The potter? Didn’t he graduate already? Without thinking, she blurted out the thought, “You’re So Yi Jeong?”

The permed menace immediately bellowed, “Of course he’s So Yi Jeong. Who did you think he was?”

Shaken to the core, Ga Eul stole a glance at the person who had now been identified as So Yi Jeong. He was regarding her calmly, his handsome countenance completely unperturbed by her sudden appearance. Ga Eul felt sick all of a sudden. Why did it have to be him? Seoul isn’t that small, she thought irrelevantly.

Looking quickly around, she saw that she was the center of attention and it certainly wasn’t of the positive variety. She could clearly see Sunny, Ginger, and Miranda pointing at her, their expressions scornful. It was just too much. She turned and ran away as fast as she could.

Not knowing the layout of the school, however, meant that she was lost within a matter of minutes. She wandered around for a bit, trying to orient herself. She finally found herself in a hallway that seemed vaguely familiar and she stood for a second to consider her next move.

That was when he appeared.

“Oh,” she cried out, both in surprise and frustration.

Unthinkingly, she darted off and grabbed at the first door she came across; it opened into what looked like a woodworking class. Power tools were scattered everywhere on solid wooden benches and everything was covered in a fine layer of blonde sawdust. Frantic, she attempted to find somewhere to hide, though for the life of her, she didn’t know why she felt the need to conceal herself. It was some sort of primordial instinct, she supposed—fight or flight. And since she’d already fought with him once, it was now time for flight.

She was considering crawling under a bench when the door unexpectedly opened. Ga Eul started, stumbling backwards into a bench. A well-manicured hand popped through the doorframe, felt around for a light switch, and finding it, flipped it on. The room was abruptly bathed in a harsh neon light. In the next instant, So Yi Jeong was in the room. His very presence seemed to suck the air from her lungs, for she all of sudden found it hard to breathe.

“W-what do you want?” she managed to bite out. She wasn’t scared precisely, but some inner instinct told her this person equaled trouble and they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms that day she’d saved his life. She would rather just stay far away from him. And why had he followed her anyhow?

He arched an eyebrow at her and approached without bothering to respond to her question. Ga Eul tried to move further back, but her path was blocked by the bench. When she turned to try and sidestep his imminent approach, she heard a loud rip and felt a sudden draft dance across the back of her upper thigh. She swiveled her head, looked down, and was appalled to find that her skirt had caught on a protruding nail and torn all the way to the lower curve of her buttocks. She immediately backed all the way up into the bench, in an effort to hide her abrupt semi-nakedness.

Yi Jeong had reached her by this time, and the smirk on his face told her he knew her current predicament. “Can I take this to mean you won’t be running away from me this time?” he said after a few moments of smiling cockily at her.

If Ga Eul had been less mortified, she would’ve shot back with some sort of witty rejoinder. Her present situation rendered her speechless, however, her mind fully occupied with how she was going to remedy her current state of half-nudity. Both of her parents would be at work by now; appa would be at the company and omma would be at the florist’s she worked at part-time. Jan Di was in school, as were all her other friends. Who else could she call to bring her a change of clothes?

She was so occupied with her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that Yi Jeong had taken out his cell phone and was dialing a number. “Yes, I need a uniform skirt sent up to Room 312. An S would be fine.” He ran his eyes over her body. “Better make that an XS. Right now, please.”

Ga Eul could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Yah!” she shouted.

Yi Jeong put up a finger to silence her and listened for a few more seconds to whomever was on the other end. “Arasso,” he said at last. “Yes, as soon as possible.” He hung up and turned his attention to her.

“Yah!” Ga Eul repeated indignantly. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

He fixed his dark gaze on her, and for a moment, Ga Eul felt more than semi-naked. Matter-of-factly, he said, “I’m ordering you a skirt. And I don’t believe we’ve been officially introduced. I’m So Yi Jeong.”

Now Ga Eul was certain there was something wrong with this young man. “What exactly are you doing?”

He didn’t react to her testy tone, but instead, said again, “I’m So Yi Jeong.”

“Wha…” Ga Eul’s voice petered out. He was staring at her. It was unnerving. She finally said lamely, “Chu Ga Eul.”

His mouth curved into a devilish smile. “Ga Eul-yang,” he murmured, as if trying out her name on his tongue. The way he said it made her think of syrup being drizzled over shaved ice—slow and sweet.

“All right, so we’re introduced. Could you tell me now just what exactly you think you’re doing?” Ga Eul demanded.

Yi Jeong sat back on a bench, swinging his legs over the edge with a lazy animal grace. “Waiting for your new skirt. You do need one, don’t you? Unless you plan to go your entire first day at Shinwha with the entire back half of your skirt ripped?”

There wasn’t anything to say to that really. Ga Eul chewed on her lip and tried to keep her ruined skirt pulled down as far as it would go. The few minutes of silence seemed like hours and she breathed a hearty sigh of relief when there was a knock on the classroom door. Yi Jeong flashed her another arrogant smile and went to answer it.

Amazingly (she had no idea how he’d done it, actually), he returned with a neatly-ironed uniform skirt, exactly her size. She happily reached out for it, but he pulled it away just as her fingers were about to close over the hem. “Chakkamanyo,” he said.

Ga Eul was confused. “Isn’t…isn’t the skirt for me?”

He nodded, then returned to his bench. She stared after him, baffled. He lay the skirt down next to him, just out of her reach, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Before I give you this skirt, there are a few things I want to discuss with you.”

Ga Eul practically snorted in disbelief. She thought back to the pictures she’d seen of his pottery and inwardly cringed at her ecstatic assessment of them. How had she ever thought his work was innovative, daring, captivating even? The work reflects the artist, she thought ruefully, And he’s none of those things. He’s full of himself. He’s cruel, unnecessarily so. Why is he taunting me like this?

Determined not to be cowed by him, she took a deep breath, recalling another of her favorite Zhuge Liang quotations, one that seemed to fit the occasion very well: “Nothing is harder to see into than people’s nature. The sage looks at subtle phenomena and listens to small voices. This harmonizes the outside with the inside and the inside with the outside.”

Yi Jeong was watching her intently. Out of the blue, he said, “Detach from emotions and desires; get rid of any fixations.”

Ga Eul realized she must have spoken the quote aloud, though she had no recollection of doing so. She was surprised that he’d recited back another saying of Zhuge Liang. “You…” she began, before the full import of the exact words he had quoted hit her. It was a subtle jab, but it had the desired effect. He was telling her to stop with the dramatics. Ga Eul relaxed slightly and fixed him with a level gaze. “Okay, go ahead. What do you want to discuss?”

*****

Yi Jeong lost a little respect for Ga Eul when she’d run away from, backed into a bench, proceeded to get her skirt caught in a nail, and tear it to the point that he was afforded a glimpse of her cute little panties (pink, of course, the obligatory color for girls like her). Although he didn’t mind this latest development, he did really wish she would stop being melodramatic.

Most of that lost respect was regained when she began spouting Zhuge Liang. That such a guileless face could recite word for word ancient military stratagems—Yi Jeong was wholly impressed. And now she seemed willing to listen to what he had to say, though truthfully, he himself was uncertain what he wanted to tell her. He really just wanted to take a moment and absorb the fact that she was here. She was here because of him—and he had no idea how he felt about that, not really.

“Well, say something,” she said, her voice cutting into his thoughts.

He ran a finger slowly up and down the hem of the skirt that was the only reason she hadn’t scurried off yet. “I’m older than you, you know that right?” Off her blank stare, he continued. “It wouldn’t hurt you to speak a little more formally to me.”

“Do you want me to call you oppa or something?” she asked incredulously.

Yi Jeong had to smile at that. “No, but I won’t tolerate banmal [informal language] from you.”

“Fine. I can call you ‘sunbae’, right?” she retorted sarcastically.

“That seems appropriate,” he conceded. He liked the way she said it, the way she rounded off the word, making it seem like the most sensual honorific in Korean. Now who’s being melodramatic? He laughed silently at himself. “All right. Let’s get to the more pressing issue. Why do you keep running away from me?”

Her lips thinned into a hard, straight line. He waited, his fingers playing with the skirt. She sighed. “I wasn’t running away. I was just getting away. Not just from you. From everyone,” she said quickly in one extended breath. “I…I don’t like so many people looking at me.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her. “There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway just now when you got away from me into this room.”

Her expression told him she realized the error of her argument. “You caught me off-guard, is all,” she explained lamely. “Can I please have the skirt now?”

Her reasoning was flawed, but it dawned on him that his was as well. Why did he even care? She’d saved his life; he’d repaid her. That should’ve been the end of the story. Why did it bother him that she fled at the sight of him? Women often did odd, inexplicable things—his mother was a prime example of that. The radish kimchi that neither she nor Yi Jeong could eat being set out for the father who had never once graced the breakfast table—wasn’t that the very example of female irrationality?

Ji Hoo’s offhand remark came rushing back to him. “That’s the first time I’ve seen a woman run away from Yi Jeong.” It was true. Women never ran away from him; they always ran towards him, both literally and figuratively. So why was this puritanical little rube different?

He didn’t like the path his ruminations were taking. Better to just give her the skirt, send her on her way, and spend the rest of high school ignoring her. He stepped forward, skirt in hand. She took it from him eagerly, then smiled a small smirking smile. “Kamsahamnida,” she said. “Please pardon me if I don’t bow. I’m slightly indisposed at the moment.”

That she could actually joke with half of her behind exposed made Yi Jeong chuckle. He executed a gentlemanly bow and turned his back on her. However, that did not please Chu Ga Eul. “Aren’t you going to leave?” she questioned him, her voice rising in pitch. As if remembering, she added belatedly, “Sunbae.”

Yi Jeong gave an indifferent shrug. “I’ll stick around in case you need any help.”

He could almost see her frustration and heard her stamp her foot. “That won’t be necessary, sunbae. Please leave.”

“Please be assured that I am not in any way tempted to turn around and take advantage of your…vulnerable state. You’re about as attractive as a crushed ladybug to me, Ga Eul-yang. Don’t worry. I’ll let you change in peace.” He turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder. “And don’t you think if I had wanted to do something, I would have done it already?”

She huffed exasperatedly but did not say anything further. Yi Jeong smiled to himself and listened to her struggling to free herself from the nail. She didn’t seem to be having much luck.

Amused, he turned around, startling her. “Need help with that?” Before she could protest, he had strode over to her and taken hold of the hand that was attempting to pull the skirt free. “Let go, I’ll do it for you.”

Ga Eul violently shook him off. “No, you let go. I can do this myself.”

Yi Jeong snorted derisively. “It doesn’t seem that way.” He trapped both of her wrists in one hand, and with his free one, started to unravel the fabric that had become steadfastly tangled in the protruding nail. She struggled slightly, but the combination of not being a match for his strength and the fear of involuntary exhibitionism eventually stilled her.

He worked silently and steadily for the next few seconds, but her skirt was quite jammed into the metal. Yi Jeong leaned forward to get a better grip, her body supporting the length of him, her hair just beneath his nose, filling it with the gentle aroma of cherry blossoms. His hand accidentally brushed the silky skin of her upper thigh and she jumped, as if hit by scalding water, losing her balance slightly and causing her to bump the top of her head into his chin.

That’s when he heard the door open behind him.

Three simultaneous gasps sounded from the entrance and Yi Jeong grimaced. He could picture in his mind how this must look to whomever had just entered the room. He was draped across Ga Eul, his hand hovering just above her buttocks, her skirt hiked up and the position of their faces such that from behind, they no doubt looked as if they were locked in a passionate kiss.

Ga Eul had already sized up the situation and was calling out in a panicked voice, “It’s not what it looks like!”

Yi Jeong didn’t need to turn around to see who it was she was talking to; no matter their identities, they would never keep the incident a secret. By the time he and Ga Eul left this room, the rest of F4 would already have heard several variations of the story, each probably more vulgar and exaggerated than the next. And with his reputation, they would have no cause to doubt the veracity of the gossip.

He looked at Ga Eul, who had a sorrowful expression in her eyes. “Eotteke, sunbae?” she asked in a small voice.

What to do indeed.

There she was, So Yi Jeong bent over her like they’d been executing a dip in a complicated ballroom dance, his hand bunched up in her skirt, so close to her skin she could feel the heat radiating off his fingers, and her discomfort level climbing—when she chanced to look over his shoulder and see the door being opened.

In that precise moment, Ga Eul wouldn’t have minded any matter of disaster befalling her. If the Earth had suddenly opened up and swallowed her whole, she would’ve welcomed it. If a meteor had come crashing into her skull, she would’ve rejoiced. If a thousand fire ants had emerged out of nowhere with the insatiable desire to strip the flesh from her bones, all the better!

For anything, anything, would’ve been better than having those three catch her looking as if she was in So Yi Jeong’s arms voluntarily…doing something (Ga Eul blushed just thinking about the conclusions to which they’d jumped). Although she was aware that first impressions could be deceiving, she had a sinking feeling that her initial assessment of that particular trio—as vain, petty harpies—was more than on the bat. After her earlier encounter with them, she didn’t really have any illusions that they would hesitate to knock her down a peg or two. Of all the people at Shinwha, why did it have to be Sunny, Ginger, and Miranda? She wanted to tear her hair out in frustration.

“It’s not what it looks like!” she’d cried out in vain. She wasn’t even certain they’d heard, they’d turned heel so fast, crashing down the hallway to no doubt spread the news that Shinwha’s newest student was…loose (it was the only term Ga Eul could conjure up without feeling downright dirty). What felt like tears began to form at the corner of her eyes. She looked up into the face of the person her gut instinct had told her was trouble, but who was now her only companion in gossip victimhood, and beseeched him, “Eotteke, sunbae?”

For a brief moment, he simply looked at her. His expression, amazingly, was the picture of serenity. Despite the compromising position they’d been caught in, and its implications, he looked as cool and as collected as if he was just finishing his morning meditation. Without saying anything, he let go of her skirt (still caught in the nail), and stepped back. When at last he spoke, there wasn’t a hint of anxiety in his voice. “About what?”

Ga Eul let forth a small snort of disbelief. “Sunny, Ginger, and Miranda just saw us…like that. I don’t know them very well, or at all even, but from the looks on their faces, they must’ve thought we were…” Her mouth simply refused to form the word “kissing”; it felt obscene somehow. “…you know. And I’m sure they’re going to tell everyone. Wh-what should we do about it?”

Again, his face and voice betrayed no emotion as he said, “We do nothing.”

Of all the answers Ga Eul had been expecting, “nothing” had not been one of them. Although she wasn’t sure of Yi Jeong’s exact status at the school, his grand entrance and his very identity already meant he wasn’t a run-of-the-mill student. His brand of arrogance didn’t seem the type to take an affront to one’s status sitting down. Being caught leaning over a strange girl in a deserted classroom probably wouldn’t do any good for his reputation—surely that must mean something to him?

As if reading her thoughts, he clarified, “You or I saying anything would simply add fuel to the fire. Better to just let it die out naturally.”

Ga Eul chewed nervously on her bottom lip. His words were rational, but a small, irrational part of her wanted him to bash in some heads in defense of her honor. Why would he though? What am I to him? Barely even an acquaintance, she reasoned to herself. She nodded in agreement with his words, feeling a slight surge of camaraderie with him.

“If we say nothing, they will simply get bored and move onto the next piece of gossip,” Ga Eul said, reassuring herself aloud. “Ne, that makes sense. They seem like the type to get easily distracted. This won’t turn out badly in the long run. It won’t.” Ga Eul blinked back the tears that had been threatening to fall, comforted by her own logic.

“Badly?” noted Yi Jeong sunbae in a silky-smooth drawl. “It was never going to turn out badly, most certainly not for you.” Ga Eul gave him a quizzical look. He continued on, “Everyone would simply think that you’d succumbed to my charms. Perfectly natural for a girl like you.”

Ga Eul angrily cut in, “A girl like me?”

Yi Jeong ignored her and went on, still speaking as if he had all the time in the world. “Women more stalwart than you have fallen, so no one would blame you for your submission. No, they’d be very understanding.” He paused, as if seeing this hypothetical course of events play out in his mind. “I, on the other hand, would have to find some sort of justification for breaking one of my….well, to be accurate, one of our, my friends’ and my own…cardinal rules. Never do anything with a Shinwha girl. Though I guess everyone would be hard-pressed to figure out what exactly it is about you that would make me forget that particular rule.”

Just like the first time they’d met, Ga Eul was stunned into silence. All of the inferences to be drawn from his monologue appeared either to be vaguely suggestive comments that made her blush or insults directed at her person. The emergent feelings of amity she’d had towards him died a quick death as the full import of his words hit her.

He was looking her up and down now. His eyes roved over her like someone at an auction, inspecting a work of art to determine its value. The expression he had made her feel as though he was wondering why the auction house had even put her on the block.

“My friends will never believe it,” he concluded.

“Believe what?” she practically spat out.

He smiled his lazy smile, the one she was certain was calculated to melt the defenses of those “stalwart women” he’d mentioned. “That I would ever break our prime directive for you.”

Ga Eul had heard enough. With an almighty wrench, she tugged her skirt free, and went bolting for the door. She could hear him follow closely behind. The last words from him as she dashed around a corner, her new uniform skirt held firmly over her backside to cover the tear in the old one, were called out in mock-amusement. “Ga Eul-yang, there’s no need to play hard to get anymore!”

A few passing students stopped dead in their tracks to observe the bewildering spectacle. Ga Eul’s only thought as she raced into the nearest ladies’ room was, That wasn’t saying nothing, you jerk!

*****

Yi Jeong couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the sight of Ga Eul running away yet again, only this time, in a comical (and to be honest, slightly charming) state of half-dress. As he watched her disappear around a corner, however, his laughter died, replaced by mild unease over how things would now play out.

Unconsciously, he put his hand into his pants pocket. He felt the stiff plastic of Ga Eul’s (former) student ID against his fingertips, and he wondered vaguely why he hadn’t returned it to her. True, she no longer needed it, but it was her property after all. Yet another mysterious action on his part. It was getting to be confounding, but at the moment, he had bigger problems to attend to.

Ga Eul had let slip that the three people who’d stumbled upon them in their most unfortunate position were the infamous trio of Sun Ja, Mi Sook, and Jin Hee (all of the F4 refused to call them by their ridiculous adopted monikers, with Jun Pyo neatly summarizing the reason for this as being “Their Korean names are just fine”), who of all the students at their school, had the most vested interest in providing counterevidence to the claim that Yi Jeong, Jun Pyo, Ji Hoo, and Woo Bin did not date Shinwha girls. This was because they’d somehow latched onto the idea that they were the perfect mates for the F4 (barring the fact that there were only three of them; Woo Bin suspected he was the fifth wheel, as it was likely no one was itching to marry a man who would someday head up an “organization”).

“They’re probably already pleading their case to Jun Pyo,” Yi Jeong speculated out loud. He sighed. He could either have it out with his friends now or later. By waiting, however, he knew he would be giving everyone time to mull over and blow the story out of proportion. So really, he was left with no choice but to march back to the lounge and tell his friends his side of the story. Chu Ga Eul, you’re more trouble than I thought you would be, he grumbled.

He passed some students on his way back to the F4 lounge, and he was surprised to hear them already stage-whispering about his incident with Ga Eul. Gossip really does travel fast, he noted absently as he sauntered past them.

“I heard she tried to seduce him,” said a male student. Yi Jeong whipped around so fast, he startled the small group who were gathered around a short, bespectacled boy, whom he immediately identified as the source of the scandalous statement by the rapidly rising color in his cheeks.

Yi Jeong slowly raised one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at the gossipmonger. All of the students gathered around him quickly found reasons to inspect their shoes and socks. Yi Jeong gazed steadily at the boy for an extended moment, a move intended to unnerve him. By the boy’s convulsive swallowing, he knew he had driven home his point. At last, he gave them a small, curt nod—a dismissal—then turned to continue on his way.

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief at the narrowly-averted crisis. Yi Jeong wasn’t quite out of earshot when the same boy declared, in a lascivious tone, “She was playing hard to get, but apparently, wasn’t that hard to get at all.” This statement was met with muted laughter. “I’d like a piece of that Ga Eul myself.”

It took every gram of willpower he possessed for Yi Jeong not to turn around, go running after the group, drag the four-eyed fool out by the ear, and beat him to death with his bare hands. Instead, he clenched his fists and stomped his way to the F4 lounge, where he found his three friends in essentially the same positions. Only now Jun Pyo was leaning back into the couch, arms folded over his chest, and Woo Bin had steepled his fingers, as if in wait.

None of them appeared the least bit surprised to see Yi Jeong come striding through the door, even though he’d told them he was headed off to class. Yi Jeong was aware that this meant they’d already been visited by the three harbingers of doom. Without saying a word, Yi Jeong plopped down in the armchair opposite the ever-silent Ji Hoo.

Minutes ticked by in awkward silence. Yi Jeong waited for one or all of his friends to speak, but no one said a thing. Finally, he himself decided to open the floor. “You’ve heard?”

Woo Bin produced his cell phone. “Twitter,” he explained.

Jun Pyo let out an audible sigh. “Were you?” he asked simply.

“No,” answered Yi Jeong firmly.

Jun Pyo nodded, satisfied with Yi Jeong’s answer. Woo Bin’s look made it perfectly clear he would not condemn Yi Jeong for kissing a strange girl, or doing anything else for that matter. He himself knew just how persuasive women could be and he wouldn’t blame his bro for giving into the pleasures of the flesh. The F4’s friendship worked because they had an absolute trust in each other’s word, and although they maintained an interest in each other, they respected each other’s privacy. Unless completely necessary, they tended not to pry into each other’s affairs.

“That stupid Park Sun Ja seems to think you and that girl are a couple or something.” Jun Pyo grimaced. “She thinks it means that we’ve lifted our ban on dating girls at Shinwha.”

“We haven’t,” said Yi Jeong quickly. He flashbacked to the scene with the bespectacled boy. Perhaps his assurance to Ga Eul—that by doing nothing, things would clear themselves up—had been premature. Add crazy girls like Park Sun Ja (and he’d forgotten to take into account just how many jeon she was short a won) into the mix, and the regular pattern could be quite messed up.

At this point, Ji Hoo abruptly spoke up. “What were you doing in that room with her in the first place?”

Three pairs of eyes focused in on him. The look on Jun Pyo’s and Woo Bin’s faces told him they thought it was an excellent and highly pertinent question. And trust Ji Hoo to come up with it, right out of left field.

Thinking it over, Yi Jeong realized that he didn’t have a ready answer. In fact, he didn’t have any sort of distinct rationale for anything he’d done in regards to Chu Ga Eul from the moment he’d come up with the idea of getting her a place at Shinwha to thank her for saving his life. His behavior was a puzzle even to him.

The F4 were all still waiting patiently (well, impatiently in Jun Pyo’s case) for his reply. Not knowing what to say exactly, Yi Jeong shrugged. “I was just there. Nothing happened. You know she’s the kind of girl I hate the most—so unsophisticated and completely naïve. If I ever wanted to break our rule, don’t you think I’d pick a worthwhile girl?”

Ji Hoo didn’t look convinced, though it was hard to tell because his expression had hardly changed. Jun Pyo was definitely already bored of the topic, but was still thinking over the consequences of Yi Jeong’s incident.

“What should Jun Pyo announce to stop the entire female portion of this school from coming after us?” Woo Bin wondered aloud for all of them.

“I’ll think of something by lunch,” Jun Pyo grunted. He shot Yi Jeong a look that could only be characterized as a warning. “I don’t want Park Sun Ja to get any more ideas, arasso?”

“Arasso,” replied Yi Jeong. The message was clear: stay away from Ga Eul.

He knew Jun Pyo wasn’t just being touchy. The four of them had decided shortly after Woo Bin’s stalker incident that they would never risk having that kind of thing happen with a girl who went to the same school. By dating a Shinwha girl, it would too easy to have every ended relationship transformed into a melodrama for the entire student body to pick apart and revel in; better to just stay away from classmates. It wasn’t like their dating pool was diminished any by their self-imposed restriction—the rest of the female Korean population (and that of other countries) was still fair game. None of them had ever had a problem because of the dating ban.

And we won’t start now, Yi Jeong vowed silently. What am I thinking anyway? The words “dating” and “Chu Ga Eul” shouldn’t have even made their way into the same conversation. Who’d want to go out with that inexperienced little schoolgirl?

“I’m off to class,” he told his friends, standing up.

Woo Bin winked. “Let’s hope you make it there this time.”

*****

Ga Eul wished the knowing looks her classmates were bombarding her with were just a figment of her imagination—unfortunately, they were very real, and punctuated by a running (rather hateful) commentary on everything from her appearance to her apparent lack of shame.

She blushed a furious shade of crimson as she overheard some of the choice things a group of girls hanging around by their lockers was saying about her. Headed into her first class of the day, her cheeks took on a tomato-like appearance when she heard the things two boys were speculating about her. For once in her life, she wished she had a riled-up Jan Di with her, so she could sic her best friend on every gossiping jerk who dared talk about her in terms that made her cheeks flame just recalling them.

Fortunately, her first class was pottery. Handling the clay would no doubt calm her, keep her mind off things. She picked a spot close to the teacher’s desk, since she knew most students would avoid it. The two boys were still talking about her, but they had now graduated to pointing and gesturing at her as well. Ga Eul bit her lip and looked down.

“Attention!”

Ga Eul’s head snapped up at the booming voice. Behind the teacher’s desk was Cha Eun-Joo, in the flesh. Ga Eul knew that she was in her mid-thirties, but she didn’t look a day over twenty-five. She was very beautiful and carried herself with a natural poise that Ga Eul instantly envied.

“Today, you’re going to finish up the projects you started last time. Do you remember what technique we discussed?” The seonsaengnim set an unfinished pot onto her desk and scanned the room to see if anyone could identify how it had been made. No one answered.

Ga Eul was able to study the specimen in close detail from her vantage point. She noted the striations running a circular pattern around the pot, similar to the grooves in an old vinyl record. Timidly, she raised her hand. Around her, she could hear snickering and barely-concealed derision. Her teacher looked at her, expressionless, then nodded for her to answer. “Is it coiling?” Ga Eul ventured.

A flicker of what looked like a combination of surprise and pleasure appeared in Cha seongsaengnim’s eyes. “Correct,” she confirmed. She said to the class, “All right. Get to it.”

Since Ga Eul had not been present for the previous assignment, she was at a loss as to what to do. She sat staring at her hands dumbly until the teacher approached her. “You’re Chu Ga Eul?” the seonsaengnim asked her, consulting a sheet of paper.

“Ye, seonsaengnim.”

“I take it from your earlier answer that you know something about pottery?” She didn’t smile, but Ga Eul was aware from her tone that she was pleased by this.

“Ye, seonsaengnim, I took some pottery at my old school,” Ga Eul replied.

Cha Eun-Joo nodded. “Use coiling to produce any piece you’d like. Materials are all over there,” she told Ga Eul, pointing to the back of the classroom.

Ga Eul stood and bowed. She made her way to the back of the classroom, every desk she passed buzzing about her. Ga Eul gritted her teeth and gathered the supplies to start her project. By the time she got back to her desk, Cha seonsaengnim was walking around the room, a metal yardstick clasped in her hands.

She paused to study one student’s creation, what looked like the beginnings of a bowl. Without warning, she struck it hard with her metal yardstick, reducing it to a bulbous clay mass.

“Dasi [again],” Cha seonsaengnim told the student stoically. She moved on.

Amazingly, this extraordinary display didn’t even earn a single gasp. Must happen often, Ga Eul concluded, and swallowed uneasily. She carefully rolled out a long coil of clay, letting the tension from her entire body flow into her fingers. Her eyes closed and she attempted to wipe her mind clean of the inauspicious events of the morning.

“How long do you think it’ll be before our seonsaengnim destroys one of her pieces?” A thin, reedy girl’s voice asked behind Ga Eul, shattering her calm.

“Who knows? Maybe she’ll charm her like she did Yi Jeong sunbae,” a deeper, though still distinctly feminine, voice dryly commented.

“Aish, it burns me up inside that such a nobody got so close to one of the F4. Why haven’t I ever had that kind of luck?” the reedy voice bemoaned.

“Or I? Did you see Jun Pyo sunbae with his new Vacheron Constantin Tour de I’lle? Omma told me it costs one and a half million US dollars,” said the deep voice.

“Omo, that much for just a watch? Imagine what he’d buy for his girlfriend!”

Ga Eul became so caught up in what they were saying, she practically jumped when the cold metal of her seonsaengnim’s yardstick pressed against the side of her neck. “Seonsaengnim!” she exclaimed. She must have been louder than she thought, because she heard twin startled gasps behind her, and the gossip session came to an abrupt end.

Cha Eun-Joo stared down at the snake-like piece of clay Ga Eul had made. “Spread your hands a bit to distribute even weight over all of the clay,” she said and left to observe another student.

“Kamsahamnida,” Ga Eul said sheepishly. She hadn’t been giving the clay any attention, having been completely absorbed by the unknown girls’ gossip. Focus, Ga Eul, she told herself. She gave herself a mental shake, bent over, and concentrated on her work.

When the bell rang for next period, Ga Eul was sore from hunching over, but she was just about done with the flowerpot she’d decided to make. Everyone stood and bowed, and Cha seonsaengnim dismissed them.

Ga Eul was not looking forward to the rest of her first day. At least in this class, she could engage in her favorite pastime to keep from hearing all the malicious words and thinly-veiled contempt from her fellow students. She would not have that refuge for the remainder of the day.

Heaving a sigh, she waited for everyone to file out before her, leaving only her and the teacher in the room. “Annyeonghi gyeseyo,” she said, bowing.

“Wait a moment, Ga Eul.”

Ga Eul was almost out the door, but stopped dead in her tracks. Am I in trouble? she wondered. “Ye, seonsaengnim?”

Cha Eun-Joo gestured for her to take a seat. Ga Eul did, still slightly dazed by the fact that her favorite potter was actually her teacher and had asked her to stay behind. “Are you having trouble with the F4?” her teacher asked flat-out.

Ga Eul had heard “F4” uttered by the gossipy girls, but had no idea what it referred to. “F4?”

“I was hearing about you being involved in some sort of problem the moment I stepped out of my car this morning.” Cha seonsaengnim paused. Her beautiful features registered sincere concern, and Ga Eul felt a surge of gratitude.

“Seonsaengnim, it’s true I had a bit of a…misunderstanding…this morning, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with this…F4. What does that stand for?” Ga Eul asked.

Cha Eun-Joo sighed. “You’re new here, so I don’t suppose anyone has told you about the F4.” She paused, and said in English, “Flower Four.”

“Flower Four?” echoed Ga Eul uncomprehendingly.

“That’s right. They’re four of the most powerful young men in Korea.” Her teacher thought for a second, then reached into her purse for her wallet. She flipped it open to reveal a photo of four boys and two girls, all in their early teens, the girls looking a bit older than the boys. She pointed to one boy. “This is Song Woo Bin, heir to the Ilshin Construction empire.”

Ga Eul looked down at the small photo. It was clear enough for her to recognize one of the guys who’d entered the school with Yi Jeong sunbae that morning. Ilshin Construction? Ga Eul had heard more than a few unsavory rumors about that particular company, whispered about by adults using words that she wasn’t entirely sure she understood.

Her seonsaengnim continued, jabbing at another head in the photo. “Yoon Ji Hoo,” she said. “Grandson of former president Yoon Suk Young.” Her finger moved again. “Gu Jun Pyo, in line to inherit the most powerful company in the country, the Shinwha Group, and the leader of the F4.”

Of course, that’s why everyone was bowing and scraping to that perm-lover. Ga Eul noticed her teacher had yet to speak about Yi Jeong. She wasn’t certain, but she could almost detect a pained look on the older woman’s face as she pointed to the last boy in the photo. “And this is So Yi Jeong. I’m guessing that with your enthusiasm for pottery, you must know a little about him?” Off Ga Eul’s “ye”, her teacher went on, “Pottery prodigy, youngest person to ever debut at the Venice Biennale, UNESCO-honored up-and-coming artist…you’ve heard all that?”

“Ye,” Ga Eul said softly. Add to that the fact that he’s the person who’s gotten me caught in the rumor mill!

“All right then, now you know who the F4 are. And it seems you’ve gotten into some trouble with one of them? Did you anger Jun Pyo somehow?” Cha Eun-Joo asked.

Something was bothering Ga Eul. “Seonsaengnim, please excuse me, but how do you know all this? And why do you have a photo of the F4 with you?”

Her teacher sighed, then pointed to the two girls flanking the F4 in the group photo. “Look closely.”

Ga Eul stared intently at the tiny faces. “One of the girls…is you!” she blurted out.

“That’s right. The other girl is my sister. We had the peculiar distinction to have grown up with the F4. That’s how I know so much about them.” She snapped the wallet shut and stowed it away. “So, what happened?”

Too embarrassed to reveal the events that had transpired between her and Yi Jeong sunbae, Ga Eul began chewing on her lower lip. “Erm…”

Her teacher nodded slightly, her face still showing signs of worry. “I understand. You’re not comfortable talking about it. That’s fine. I’m almost certain it was something trivial that was blown out of proportion.” Ga Eul, still unable to speak, looked down at her hands. “Let me give you some advice, though, all right? As a teacher and as someone who knows those F4 boys well—stay strong. The only kind of women those four truly appreciate is a strong one.”

Ga Eul stood and made a deep bow. “Kamsahamnida, seonsaengnim.” She left the classroom, and was immediately greeted by animated pointing and jeering from passing students.

Stay strong. So much easier said than done. She tried to ignore the menacing chatter all around her. But, did I just get advice from Cha Eun-Joo? Unbelievable. Well, that’s one good thing about my first day here.

Now she would have to grit her teeth and try to make it through the rest of the day.

*****

The atmosphere in the dining hall was lively when the F4 arrived. Although they never had the same lunch as the other students, they did take their meal on a mezzanine overlooking the main dining hall.

Usually, Jun Pyo would breeze straight past all the other tables to their specially reserved one. He neither had eyes nor care for anyone else, but that day, Yi Jeong and the others almost fetched up behind him when he abruptly stopped in the middle of the hall.

“Look here,” he announced in his booming voice (a voice that would definitely be helpful when he took over the Shinwha Group), “There are rumors flying around about one of the members of F4.”

Yi Jeong’s eyes scrutinized the crowd for Ga Eul’s face. He wondered where she was, and if she was hearing any of this.

The din in the hall kicked up a notch to a dull roar, but one look from Jun Pyo silenced everyone. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s all a mistake.”

He suddenly spotted her. She was standing at the back, clutching her ratty messenger bag and glaring daggers in their direction. Jun Pyo was still talking. “It’s all a mistake. Can we help it if we are victims of another’s stupidity? Know this, though. We never make the same mistake twice.” His tone was venomous. “That is all.”

Jun Pyo stormed up the stairs to the carefully laid out lunch table, Woo Bin and Ji Hoo trailing close behind. Yi Jeong hung back a little, watching Ga Eul’s reaction. It was strange, but he could already recognize the indignation and fury brewing behind her dark chocolate eyes. And this was from half a room away.

She caught him looking at her and instead of shying away, she met his gaze head-on. To his utter amazement, she raised her fist and mouthed, “Jerk.” Then, she went sashaying off, and he couldn’t help but wonder where she was headed.

Sighing, Yi Jeong joined his friends at their table. The sight of his medium-rare tenderloin didn’t do much to excite his appetite, however. Is that stupid girl going to have lunch? Or is the gossip so bad she decided to skip it all together? He looked off in the direction in which she’d disappeared. She’s going to make herself sick like that.

“Yi Jeong-ah,” called Woo Bin.

“Huh?” Yi Jeong said absently.

“Is the meat not to your liking? Do you plan to go and find something to flavor it?” Woo Bin teased.

Ji Hoo neatly cut a piece from his rare sirloin. “He won’t, unless he wants to turn Jun Pyo into a liar,” he observed, popping the meat into his mouth.

Jun Pyo, being Jun Pyo, had been ignoring the conversation up until the point his name was mentioned. “Mwo? Mwolagu [what did you say]?”

“Woo Bin, whatever you want to say, say it.” Yi Jeong frowned at his best friend.

Woo Bin smiled at him, and for a split-second, he looked as if he was about to blurt out Ga Eul’s name—but then he looked around the table and seemed to think better of it. He picked up his roll and started to butter it. “Never mind.”

Ji Hoo raised one eyebrow incrementally, but chose not to comment. Jun Pyo was already tucking into his roasted potatoes, the conversation completely forgotten.

Yi Jeong picked up his steak knife and ran it savagely through his tenderloin.

Little girl, you better be eating.

*****

Ga Eul couldn’t even eat the lunch her mother had packed her. Just thinking of what that arrogant, hair-style-challenged creep had said, and Yi Jeong sunbae just standing there, as if he’d approved the speech—she felt sick to her stomach. So that’s what he meant by doing nothing? Well, his reputation is fine, but mine is in tatters! She spent the whole of lunch fuming under a tree and when the bell rang for classes, she clomped off with murder in her heart.

The F4 leader’s speech hadn’t seemed to have done much other than turn the tide more solidly against Ga Eul. Whereas before, not entirely certain about her situation, they’d gossiped about her in hushed tones, with Jun Pyo sunbae’s little monologue, everyone seemed to take it that they had carte blanche to attack her directly. In the hallways and in class, she was called names and insulted to her face. Some of the boys made crude comments and pinched her on the backs of her thighs, where her skirt left the skin exposed. She knew she would be bruised black and blue by tomorrow morning.

She wasn’t even certain how she’d made it through the remainder of her classes. By the end of the day, she felt as though she was holding onto her sanity by the thinnest of threads. When she arrived at her locker, however, and saw the word spray-painted in red on its door—a word so filthy, she’d never actually seen it written out, and had to take a second to comprehend it—the thread snapped entirely.

Behind her, she heard snickering, and without even looking, she knew it was Sunny, Ginger, and Miranda, for apparently, they were drawn to human suffering like vultures were drawn to decaying flesh.

“I don’t believe for one second that Yi Jeong sunbae was in that room voluntarily,” observed Miranda mockingly.

“She must have lured him there. I wonder what trick she used to get a member of the F4 to follow her in there?” Sunny pondered in a shrill voice.

“Whatever it was, you can be sure Yi Jeong sunbae won’t be falling for it again. Didn’t you hear what Jun Pyo sunbae said? ‘We never make the same mistake twice’—those were his exact words,” said Ginger.

Staring numbly ahead, the disgusting word seemingly blaring before her, Ga Eul knew she had to take action, or the rest of her days at Shinwha would be a repeat of today. Spinning around, she fixed the gossipy trio with a penetrating glare. The three girls stepped back collectively, as if frightened by her sudden movement. Or it might have been the cold, unyielding look in her eye.

Ga Eul cleared her throat, and said, making certain to keep her voice steady, “Are you quite done?” Though she was looking at the wench trio, she made certain her words were clear and loud enough to show she was addressing the entire school. Most the students milling around stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the unfolding scene, which promised to be very entertaining.

Sunny started to speak up, “I…”

“I don’t care,” Ga Eul cut in swiftly. At this point, she chanced to glance up and see the entire F4 assembled on the second floor landing. Yi Jeong sunbae was watching her with what looked like concern, but she quickly shook that off as impossible. She gave him a small, bitter smile. “Be quiet. Now it’s my turn to talk.”

Ginger said indignantly, “Yah, Chu Ga Eul!”

Ga Eul squared her shoulders and fixed the man who had made her the victim of such vicious bullying after only one day with an icy glare. “I was told that this school was educating the future leaders of our country. Now I see that every part of that statement is wrong. You’re obviously not getting any kind of education—not in morality, at least. And future leaders? Ha. I have yet to see any kind of actual leadership behavior here, everyone’s so eager to play ‘follow the perm-enthusiast’.”

Audible gasps all around and stricken looks from the three girls didn’t slow Ga Eul down one bit. “And if you really are the future leaders of our country, I weep for the future of the Republic of Korea, because with people like you at the helm,” Ga Eul said, emphasizing the words “like you” in such a way as to conjure up the lowest, most disgusting forms of life, “It won’t be long before our beloved nation is run into the ground. We’d probably be better off with a blind cat in the Blue House.”

She took out her house key and held it up menacingly. There were sudden panicked cries, but Ga Eul ignored them, twirled around, and in one fierce motion, dragged the key across the offensive word on her locker. Red paint flakes floated to the floor in the wake of her angry scratch. A metallic line appeared where her key had done its work, striking out the slur spray-painted on the locker door. It was still legible, but Ga Eul had made her point.

“Yah…!” cried Sunny.

Her two cohorts echoed her, but none of them went any further. They seemed at a loss for words. Ga Eul smiled, pleased that her diatribe had rendered them temporarily speechless. “When opportunities occur through events but you are unable to respond, you are not smart,” she quoted, staring directly at Yi Jeong.

With this final statement, she stormed past everyone, head held high, confident that she had done Jan Di proud.