At that moment, Dora came into the bookstore. I didn’t say hi. I wanted to tell her about my small ember before it went out.
“Do you think I could write someday? About myself?”
Dora’s eyes tickled my cheeks. I continued, “Do you think I could make others understand me, even though I can’t understand myself?”
“Understand,” Dora whispered, turning to me. Before I knew it, she was right below my chin. Her breath touched my neck and my heart started pounding.
“Hey, your heart’s beating fast,” Dora murmured. Each syllable from her full lips tickled my jaw. I inhaled deeply without meaning to, drinking in her breath.
“Do you know why your heart rate is so high now?”
“No.”
“Your heart’s excited because I’m close to you, so it’s clapping.”
“Oh.”
Our eyes met. But neither of us averted each other’s gaze. She moved closer to me, her eyes locked on mine. Before I had time to think, her lips brushed against my lips. They felt like a cushion. Her soft, moist lips slowly pressed into mine. And just like that, we breathed three times. Our chests moved up and down, and up and down, and up and down. Then we lowered our heads at the same time. Our lips parted as our foreheads touched.
“I think I just understood a little about who you are,” Dora said, gazing down at the floor. I was also looking down. Her shoelaces were untied. One end was hiding under my shoe.
“You’re nice. And you’re normal. But you’re also special. That’s how I understand you.”
Dora looked up, her cheeks flushed. “Am I,” she whispered, “qualified to be in your story now?”
“Maybe.”
She laughed. “That’s not a good enough answer.” Then she skipped out the door.
My knees gave up and I slowly slumped down. My head had emptied of thoughts, filled only with racing pulses. My whole body was beating like a drum. Stop it. Stop. You don’t have to try so hard to prove that I’m alive. I wanted to tell my body if only I could. I shook my head a couple times. There were more and more things I couldn’t expect in life. Just then, I felt someone staring and looked up. Gon was standing outside the window. We stared at each other for a few seconds. A faint smile ran across his face. Then he turned around and slowly disappeared from view.
60
Our school field trip was to Jeju Island. Some kids didn’t want to go, but just because you didn’t want to go did not qualify as a valid excuse. Only three students from the entire school didn’t go, including myself. The other two were competing in math contests, and as for me, I had to look after Mom, which was an excuse the school had to accept.
I went to the empty school and read books all day long. As a formality, a substitute science teacher was there to take attendance. Three days passed, and the kids came back. For some reason, everyone seemed uneasy.
Something had happened on the last day of the trip. The night before the kids were due back, while everyone was asleep, the money that had been collected to buy class snacks had disappeared. The teachers searched through everyone’s belongings and found the cash envelope inside Gon’s backpack. It had half the original amount. Gon pleaded innocence. He actually had an alibi. He had snuck out to the Jeju streets and stayed out until the following morning. A local PC bang owner was his witness. Gon had spent all night at the Internet cafe, playing games and drinking beer.
Still, everyone said that Gon had stolen the money. Whether he had made someone else steal it or plotted the theft as part of a group didn’t matter. It was Gon who did it. Everyone said so.
Gon didn’t care. He continued to sleep through his classes after returning from the trip. That afternoon, Professor Yun was summoned to the school. Kids said he had reimbursed all the money. They had their noses buried in their phones all day, texting one another. Their Kakao Talk buzzed here and there. I didn’t have to read their texts to know what they were gossiping about.
61
Things came to a head several days later, during Korean class. Gon had woken up mid-nap and walked drowsily to the back of the classroom. The teacher ignored him and carried on with the class. Then the class heard a loud noise of chewing gum. Of course, it was Gon.
“Spit it out,” said the teacher, who was retiring soon and did not tolerate bad behavior. Gon didn’t respond. The sound of his chewing pierced the heavy, silent air.
“Spit it out or leave.” As soon as the teacher said it, Gon spat out the gum. It drew a parabola and landed on someone’s shoe. The teacher slammed his textbook shut.