by Angela Ahn
“I also invited Emma and Arden, okay?” she told me when I got there. “But they have dance until 4:30, so they’ll come after.”
“Okay,” I said. I was feeling totally awkward. I just stood around her room, not really knowing where to sit or what to look at.
“Here, sit on this,” she offered, generously throwing me a lifeline. I think it was called a pouf. I read about them in a design magazine at my dentist’s office last month.
“Thanks,” I said. I was suddenly very aware about the way I was dressed. I had on jeans—I almost always wore jeans—and a plain navy blue t-shirt. My hair was in its usual ponytail. I took a very hard look at Madison, and saw she was wearing designer yoga pants that were probably never used for yoga (this is Vancouver, everybody wears yoga pants) and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that didn’t look nearly as boring as mine.
“What do you want to do?” she asked. I noticed she had a TV in her room, a computer, a tablet, and a cell phone. Her parents were clearly not as strict about electronics as mine.
I didn’t think she’d be into playing cards like I did with Jason, so I shrugged. “Want to watch TV?” I suggested. At least I wouldn’t have to think of things to talk about. I never knew making new friends was so awkward. I was looking forward to Emma and Arden coming over later so we’d have somebody else around.
Madison’s mom poked her head into the room. “Sorry girls, I forgot to ask if you wanted a snack.”
I sat up, excited at the thought of eating something. I’d forgotten to eat at my house before I came here and my stomach was rumbling. I really should have grabbed one of my mom’s muffins.
“No thanks,” Madison said. “We’re fine. Go away!”
My shoulders drooped and I sat back on the pouf. I guess food wasn’t a big priority at this house. I hoped she wouldn’t hear my stomach.
“You know what I noticed?” Madison asked as she sat up straight.
“No, what?” I answered.
“Your eye makeup looked really cool the day of my party,” she said.
“Oh, that was mostly tape,” I answered.
“Tape?”
“Yeah, like special eye tape they make in Korea,” I said.
“You looked really good with it. You should think about wearing it to school more,” she told me. “Korea has such an amazing fashion scene, you know.”
“Oh thanks. I saw a bunch of Korean magazines in the salon and the style is so different, isn’t it?” I tried my best to make “small talk.” I admit it wasn’t easy for me. Like when was the last time I talked to Jason about fashion? Never. I suddenly wondered if she was going to ask me if I wanted to put makeup on with her, but luckily, she pulled out some magazines instead.
“Look at these!” She happened to have some Korean magazines, which surprised me. “Of course I can’t read any of these, but I like to look at the pictures. Can you read any of it?”
“No, not a single word. My parents don’t even read or speak Korean.”
We flipped through the pages and talked about what we saw—that dress looks nice, or that hairstyle looks weird, that kind of stuff—until Arden and Emma came. Time passed more quickly than I expected. I realized that with Jason, we did active things together, but with these girls, I was sitting around talking about stuff. Lounging around and gossiping. It was all new to me.
The girls had a lot to talk about so I hoped it wasn’t obvious that I was just listening and not actually joining the conversation most of the time. We laughed a lot because Arden has this very dramatic streak and likes to tell stories. Maybe I misjudged the girls. I always assumed that they were kind of mean and snobby, but when you spent time with them, they were pretty nice.
When it was time to go home, my mom picked me up.
When I got into the car she said, “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, I did,” I replied, and my mom looked surprised.
“Oh.” She paused. “Well, I guess that’s great!” She sounded a little too happy to be real. She wasn’t normally that perky.
We drove home the rest of the way in silence, which was good, because I had a bit of a headache. Those girls could sure talk a lot and I wasn’t used to it. I was so hungry that when I came home to the smell of chicken souvlaki, I think I literally drooled.
“I left a plate for you in the oven,” my mom said. “Tori and I ate just before I came to pick you up, and your dad’s not home yet.”
I sat down with my mom at the table and started eating.
“Hungry?” she asked, almost laughing. “I’ve never seen you eat so quickly!”
“Yes,” I said with a mouthful of chicken. “Madison and her family don’t seem to eat.”
“Well, every family has a different way of doing things,” my mom said. She got up and squeezed my shoulder.
After I ate, I went upstairs because I wanted to lie down. I noticed that Tori had left a big bag full of clothes in my room.
“Tori!” I yelled. “What’s this bag doing here?”
She popped her head into my room. “I’ve cleaned out my closet. Keep what you want and I’ll get rid of the other stuff.”
I realized that Tori had way nicer clothes than I did. On the top of her pile, designer yoga pants, similar to the ones Madison had on today. Why did I have “practical” clothes and how did Tori get all this nice stuff? I needed to talk to my mother about this situation. It was obviously not fair.
I spent the next hour or so trying on clothes. There were a bunch of clothes in her pile that fit me and that I liked. Tori walked in as I was trying on a plaid shirt. She tilted her head to the side as if she were thinking hard. “That one is okay on you, but you can’t wear your usual jeans,” she stated.
“What’s wrong with my usual jeans?” I asked.
“The leg. Bootcut. Nobody wears bootcut anymore, unless you’re a cowboy. A real cowboy, not a fake Western look. You’re too Korean-looking, you can’t pull off a Western look. You need skinny jeans,” she said as she walked over to the pile of clothes and sorted through them until she found what she was looking for.
“Here.” She held out some jeans. “These are too short for me now, but they should fit you. Try them on.”
I paused.
“What, afraid to let me see your underwear? Geez, fine I’ll turn around,” she said.
I waited for her to physically turn around before I took off my jeans and put on her old pair.
“Can I turn around now?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“See, that’s better,” she said as she looked at me with a critical eye. “But don’t wear your usual running shoes.”
Seemed like nothing I had was right. “What should I wear then?” I asked.
She rummaged through her pile some more. “If you’re going to wear running shoes, at least let them be somewhat cool.” She handed me what I guess she thought were “cool-looking” running shoes. I put those on too. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had to admit my sister had a better sense of fashion than I did.
I decided to wear Tori’s old clothes to school the next day. No point leaving them in the bag on the floor.
“Thanks, Tori,” I said.
“Sure.” She nodded at me and got up to leave my room.
I had a lot to learn—about everything. I’m glad Tori could help me a little with clothes at least. I’m sure she had a few things to teach me about how to deal with other girls too.
The next morning, I stood in my bathroom for a while and pulled out the sheet of eye tape the ladies at the salon had given me. It just looked like a sheet of rounded stickers. I carefully peeled off a piece, leaned over the sink and tried to put a piece on my eyelid. I stepped back and looked at myself. I looked like somebody had punched me and my right eye was swelling. I didn’t do it right. I ripped it off. I needed to practice more. Maybe no
w was not the right time. I didn’t want to be late for school or get puffy eyes from continuously ripping off eyelid tape. I changed gears and decided to get dressed instead.
I put on the same outfit Tori seemed to approve of the night before, and my mom didn’t say anything when I came downstairs, but I did catch her looking at me an extra-long time. I was waiting for her to say something, but she never did.
The girls at school all seemed to notice something different. Emma said, “Krista, I like what you’re wearing today!” and Madison said, “Nice shirt!”
Nobody had ever complimented my clothing before. Was I really so different? “Thanks,” I said, slightly embarrassed. “This is all Tori’s old stuff.”
At recess, they asked me to join them by the tree again. Jason heard and just kind of gave me a wry grin, like he was saying, go ahead, so I said okay. It was the fourth time in the past week that we had not hung out at school together. It felt weird, but he seemed okay with it. I walked with the girls to the tree and scanned my eyes around for Jason in the field. I could see he had found Marcus and Evan, and they were standing in the part of the field where Jason and I usually hung out. It looked like they were laughing.
CHAPTER 12
On the weekend, Dad was going to take me and Tori to the movies. The only problem was his car. It only had two seats.
“Alice, I need to borrow your car later,” my dad told my mom while she drank her morning coffee and read the newspaper.
“Why? Something wrong with yours?” she asked.
“No, it’s just movie day, remember? I’m supposed to take the girls to the movies this afternoon.”
My mom put down her newspaper and looked at my dad with her blank stare. “Oh right,” she said sarcastically. “You have that ridiculous car with only TWO seats and a manual transmission that I can’t drive. I remember now.”
“Alright, alright,” my dad muttered.
“What if I have stuff to do?” My mom was giving Dad a hard time. I watched silently, eating my bowl of cereal. They went through this same routine every time my dad needed to take more than one person in his car. I think my mom loved tormenting him sometimes.
“Can you do your stuff now then? I want to take them to a show in the early afternoon.”
“Don’t you wish you had a car that could actually carry the entire family?” Mom put her coffee cup in the sink. “Fine, I’ll go do my errands now.”
She left to go do whatever moms do on Saturday mornings and so it was just me and my dad at the kitchen table.
“She really hates your car, huh?” I said, chewing my last mouthful of cereal.
“Yes, Krista, yes she does.” My dad opened the newspaper to the sports section.
Tori finally came downstairs. It was almost 9am. She rubbed her head and said, “Where’s Mom?”
“She left to do some errands,” my dad answered.
“Did she leave me any breakfast?” Tori asked.
“No,” I answered as I put my bowl in the sink.
“I’ll make you something,” my dad offered.
Tori rolled her eyes. “I can pour my own bowl of cereal, Dad.” She reached into the cupboard for a bowl.
“So, it’s movie day!” My dad tried to sound cheerful.
“Oh God…” Tori sighed as her shoulders slumped.
“What, too cool to spend some time with your dad?” he asked her as she poured the milk.
“Well actually, yes,” she answered after swallowing her first spoonful.
“It’ll be fun!” He gave her shoulder a playful push.
“No, Dad, no it won’t.”
And Tori was right, the movie wasn’t very fun. My dad hated parking my mom’s minivan so he always ended up parking as far away from the main entrance as possible, even though there were lots of spots close by. When we got there, the movie I wanted to see was sold out, so we ended up seeing this dumb movie about a dumb teenage girl who falls in love with a dumb boy (Tori’s pick). Blah. Then my dad let me eat way too much popcorn (sore belly). On the way home he told us that we had to go to Grandma’s house for dinner (surprise!).
We picked up my mom, who had been at home all afternoon. “So girls.” Mom greeted us as she got into the car. “How was the movie?”
Tori shrugged her shoulders. I said, “Meh.”
“What? Just meh? Personally, I thought it was terrible,” my dad said. This was my dad trying to be funny.
“It was okay. The actor was cute,” said Tori.
I rolled my eyes. My mom was turned in her seat looking at us. She smiled. “Off to Grandma’s house,” Dad said as we drove off.
It was still only 4pm, and after my giant bag of popcorn, I had no interest in eating dinner at all.
We piled out of the minivan and Grandma greeted us at the door with a big smile. Once we were in her house, she pulled me aside and said, “Krista, you help with japchae.”
I was put in charge of washing and slicing vegetables. My grandmother opened a drawer in her kitchen and said, “I bought you apron,” as she put it over my head. “Remember how to squeeze spinach?” How could I forget?
“Yes, Grandma, I remember. Thank you for the apron, it’s nice.”
“Okay, squeeze.” She slid a bowl of blanched spinach my way. I took it and went to the sink. I heard my dad turn on the TV in the living room. I heard Tori talking on her phone. My mom asked, “Can I help?”
“No, Krista can do,” Grandma answered.
“Okay.” Mom smiled at me and went to watch TV with Dad.
“After squeeze, put spinach in bowl with noodles,” my grandmother instructed. “Slice mushrooms now. I do beef,” she said as she fired up her stovetop.
After we had finished preparing all the ingredients we assembled the japchae. It was one of my favorite dishes. Chewy noodles mixed with vegetables and sliced beef. It was good warm or room temperature. She served it with the usual table full of other side dishes, rice and there seemed to always be some kind of meat. Today she had stir-fried spicy pork.
“Thank you for preparing such a wonderful dinner,” my mother said to Grandma before we started eating.
“Thanks, Mom, it looks delicious,” my dad agreed.
Grandma looked very satisfied and smiled, as she looked around at all of us. I reluctantly picked up my chopsticks.
“Tori!” Grandma proclaimed. “Eat more!” Tori had been pushing noodles around her plate for a few minutes before Grandma had finally noticed.
“Grandma, I’m just not hungry. We had all this popcorn at the movie theater this afternoon and—”
“Alice! You spoil their appetites!” my grandmother started to scold. My mom shot my dad a cold look.
“Actually, Mom, it was me,” my dad confessed.
She started muttering things in Korean as she got up from the table. My mother was still staring at my dad who just shrugged his shoulders. Grandma started rifling through her cabinets.
“I pack up for you to take home. Eat later,” she said, turning to Tori. She had started to assemble empty plastic containers for leftovers. We never got away from Grandma’s without at least some food. I was trying my best to eat, because I knew how she was about food. She made it, we were supposed to eat it. The pork was so spicy today that I needed four glasses of water with dinner, but I didn’t want her to stare at me the way she stared at Tori for not eating. I was on the verge of being sick.
I put on a good enough show to satisfy her, so I was allowed to go lie down on the sofa. Which I did. My dad joined me and then undid his belt and the button of his pants. He put his head back on the sofa and gave me his death-by-food face and we both giggled.
CHAPTER 13
During our PE classes, we had been doing a dance unit. Normally I liked PE. I was a pretty good athlete without trying too hard. I wasn’t the best at anything, but I wasn’t the
worst either. But this was a Hip Hop Dance unit. Mrs. June had got it into her head that she wanted us to perform at the Celebration of Dance that the school board put on once a year. She said her niece performed in it last year and she was so inspired that she wanted us to do it this year. So every PE class for the next few weeks, we were supposed to work on this dance. She even hired a local dance troupe to choreograph it. Mrs. June was serious. Madison, Arden, Cassie, and Emma were very good dancers, so they loved the idea of the whole Celebration of Dance. Me? Not so much.
My mom had put me in a ballet class when I was three. I guess she thought it would be cute. There are a lot of pictures of me in my little pink get-up before the class started, but—I don’t remember this, this is just what my mom tells me—once the class started, I wouldn’t listen to the teacher. Instead I just wanted to run around in a circle shouting. My mom couldn’t quiet me down. She tells me that I ripped off my tutu and threw it at the teacher. She was too embarrassed to take me back for more classes. That was the end of my ballet and dance career.
I’ve seen all those videos of K-Pop stars doing awesome and amazing dance moves, so I can’t blame having no rhythm on being Korean. Instead, I blame my dad. Hey, he brings it on himself by being a workaholic. It’s easy to blame the absentee parent for all your failings. But if you have ever seen my dad dance, you’d agree that I most certainly got my lack of rhythm from him.
The choreographer, Denise, was super edgy. She wore her long hair straight down her back and her baseball cap backwards. She tied a plaid shirt around her waist and her black jeans had ripped up knees. The first couple of weeks she taught us some basic moves, but this week we were working on choreographing the whole class to run around the stage in formations using those basics. She shouted, “How many boys and how many girls in the class?”
We all looked around confused and nobody answered her, I think we were all a bit intimated by her cool factor.
“Okay, never mind. Boys on the left side of the stage, girls on the right!” she shouted when nobody gave her an answer.