by Angela Ahn
“Your other left, boys!” She didn’t even need a microphone. She herded us like cattle to count us off.
She came up on the stage and counted. “Perfect! An even number!”
“Partner up!” she shouted. “One boy, one girl! Go!”
Of course there was awkward jostling with nervous glances and hesitant moves to potential partners. I just automatically headed over to Jason who saw me coming, and he then turned around and asked Cassie. Cassie! I stopped dead in my tracks. He didn’t even look back at me.
Marcus then tapped me on the shoulder. I let out a big sigh. Everybody else had already partnered up.
“Boys! Two lines! Line up with your partners to your right! Girls grab your partner’s hand!” More stage jostling and then I reluctantly grabbed Marcus’ clammy hand once the line had formed. I was so mad. How could Jason leave me to partner up with Marcus?
It was hard to listen to Denise and pay attention because I was so angry. Or was I hurt? Whatever I was, my lack of ability to focus caused Denise to yell, “Girl with long black hair!” more than once. It was startling to realize that she meant me. Marcus even chided me, “Come on Krista, pay attention!” When the class clown is giving you a lecture about paying attention, you know you’ve lost it. By the end of the class, I was hot with rage and perspiration.
Today was the first day in years that I hadn’t put my hair in a ponytail. Tori said it was time to change things up a little and she had urged me to try my hair loose. Big mistake. I was so hot by the end of PE that I was cursing my sister and her fashion suggestions. I also wore her old booties, again, her suggestion, and my feet were killing me! I would have given anything for my old comfy running shoes.
But after taking a long drink at the water fountain, and splashing some cool water behind my neck, I took five deep breaths. Mrs. June’s breathing exercises were coming in handy, and I could feel my anger die down a little. I thought hard as I walked slowly back to class.
I suddenly remembered that I was the one who had been spending time with other people. Jason had seemed okay about everything, but then I started to remember a few little things over the last week and I realized maybe he wasn’t okay. I had to show Jason that I still wanted to be his friend. I tried my very best not to hold a grudge against him or be mad for not choosing me as his dance partner. But, wow, it was hard. I was stuck with Marcus!
Since Jason and I had missed out on two of our Wednesdays and we hadn’t been spending too much time together at school, I really wanted to make a point of making sure he was coming over today. It was obvious that we needed to reconnect. We needed our Wednesdays back. Before, it would have been a given, we wouldn’t have even have had to talk about it. But today, we had to talk about it.
“Jason, you’re coming today, right?” I asked him in the cloakroom after school as we all got our things ready to go home.
“Oh, is today Wednesday?” he asked. He didn’t seem his usual self. He kept looking at his cloakroom hook, and not me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess I can come over for a while,” he said. “But I told Marcus I’d go to his house later to help him with his project.” Okay that one hurt a little. He had made other plans.
We walked to my house without saying too much. It was the first time I had ever felt awkward around him. We had been friends since we were three and it had never been so weird between us before. But when we got to the front door, I could see him smile. Jason took a deep breath as he entered the kitchen.
“I smell chocolate chip cookies!”
My mom smiled as she walked over to the fridge to get the milk. “Yes, good timing! Still warm, but not so hot they will burn your mouth.”
She poured us each a glass of milk, and reached for two plates as we sat down. “What’s new today? What were you two up to?” I’m glad she didn’t say anything about not having seen him for a while.
“Krista hung out with Emma, Arden, Cassie, and Madison again today,” Jason said before I took a sip of milk. “Under the cherry tree.”
My mom looked surprised. “Really? I thought they had some kind of no boys rule.”
“I didn’t go, Mrs. Kim. Just Krista,” he answered. He didn’t look at me. I had the distinct impression that he was ratting me out to my mom.
My mom looked even more surprised, and then stared at me and tilted her head to the side.
“So what do these girls do under that tree?” she asked. Jason stopped eating and waited to hear.
“Well…” I started, “they were trying to work out a dance routine, you know, because they were pretty inspired by the whole Celebration of Dance idea.” They both sat quietly listening. “But they couldn’t agree on how to finish. Madison wanted to do a pyramid, and be on top, because she’s the smallest. But Arden and Emma refused to get their knees dirty. So they just wanted a new opinion, you know? Like sometimes you just need fresh eyes. That’s what they said. So, they did the routine for me and asked me what I thought would look good.”
“But you don’t like dancing,” my mom said.
“But I wasn’t actually doing the dancing! I was like the choreographer,” I stated.
“So what did you suggest?” Jason asked.
“Well, Emma and Arden didn’t want to get their knees dirty, that was the big problem, so I came up with a solution. I told them to squat, face each other, because it looked stupid with them squatting and facing forward, put their hands on their knees and one leg a bit further back so it looked good and Madison could be in the middle, standing with her arms in the air. So it looked like the same shape as a pyramid, but it actually wasn’t a pyramid. Get it?”
My mom and Jason didn’t say anything for a long time. I caught my mom glancing at Jason, as if she was trying to read his mind. In my head, I had time to rethink what I had just said aloud. It sounded a tiny bit lame, didn’t it? It didn’t feel lame when it was happening though.
“Was it fun to be with them?” my mom asked.
“Well, it was okay, I guess.”
“What did you do today while this was happening Jason?” my mom asked.
He took another big bite of cookie and shrugged. “Not much. I found some of the boys in our class. They were making a pile of dirt, so I helped. Then I talked to Marcus a bit.”
We ate in silence for a while. Awkward. So now my mom knew that Jason and I hadn’t been the same as usual at school. Time to talk about something else.
“Mom?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking more about my assignment. I need to ask Grandma if she’ll come to school with me to make some Korean dishes for the class.”
“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Could I help with it?”
“Well, Mom, no offense, but you’re not exactly an expert in Korean food,” I said.
“What do you mean?” My mom sounded offended.
“Well, like, do you even make your own kimchi?”
“No…” she started, “but that’s because Grandma can be very critical. I’d rather she not be smug about it if my kimchi isn’t as good at hers.”
“So that’s why I need to ask Grandma. She’s the expert,” I said.
“I’m sure Grandma will help you. She’d do anything for you girls,” my mom said. “But still, make sure to ask her politely for her help.”
“This is for our project?” Jason asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Like I suggested a while ago?” he asked with a satisfied look in his eye.
“Yes, I guess you did mention it, didn’t you? But I have some other ideas, too. I want to hand in something on paper, like a booklet, after Grandma and I make food for the class.”
“Do you want to ask her to prepare some food at home and then bring it to class?” my mom asked.
“No, I d
on’t think so. I think we need to actually make it, in the class. Like the whole process. But it will be kind of tricky because there is no kitchen in the classroom, so I still have to figure it out,” I said. “I’d like to ask her in person. She’s not the easiest person to talk to on the phone. Is she coming here, or are we going there soon?”
“I’ll call her over for dinner tomorrow, how about that?” my mom asked.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“You two done your snack?”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Kim. Your cookies were delicious,” Jason said as he put away his plate and cup into the sink. Polite as always. “I have to go, though. I promised Marcus.”
It felt like forever since we had spent any time at my house. I left our last game of cards exactly as we had left before we had to stop. It was now collecting dust.
“Already?” my mom said. “You don’t want to stay for dinner?”
“No, Mrs. Kim. Thank you for the offer,” he said as he put on his shoes and jacket. “Bye.” He gave us both a little wave.
My mom and I said our good-byes and then she said, “Krista, why didn’t he stay very long? Are you two okay?”
“He made other plans,” I said as I shrugged and walked upstairs quickly to my room.
CHAPTER 14
Armed with a whole new arsenal of clothes, courtesy of my sister, I started waking up a bit earlier every morning and paying a bit more attention to what I was wearing. I couldn’t wear a plain t-shirt and jeans my whole life, could I? My goal for myself was to try something new every day, I mean, I could go for probably a month without wearing the same thing again because I had doubled my wardrobe. I was also practicing a lot with the eyelid tape. I had been experimenting for a few days in private, but this morning I forgot to lock the bathroom door. Tori barged in on me.
“Hey!” I shouted. “I’m in here!”
“Sorry, but you forgot to lock the door!” she said. Then she looked at the counter. “What are you doing anyway?”
“What does it look like?” I said. I was feeling a bit embarrassed.
She crossed her arms and said, “You are doing a lousy job.”
I felt super defensive. “I’m practicing, okay! I’m not very experienced with this sort of thing.”
“Obviously,” she stated as she took a step closer to me and suddenly ripped off the tape I had been struggling with.
“Ouch! Tori, that hurt!” I shouted.
“Let me,” she said. She pulled off a new piece of tape, manipulated it in her fingers and then said, “Close your eyes.”
Obediently, I closed my eyes. “Open,” she said as she stepped back. “That is so much better.”
Then my mom came into the bathroom. “I heard shouting, what’s going on?” She stared at me with my one normal eye, and my one taped eye.
“Krista!” she said loudly. “What are you doing?”
“Tori and I were just…” I started fumbling over my words.
“Okay, it’s time for a serious talk. Downstairs, two minutes. Take the tape off. Now!”
Mom used to tell us that when she was a vice-principal, her specialty was discipline. I rarely saw it at home, because I just didn’t do things that got me in trouble, but when I did make her mad, she was an imposing, scary figure.
When my sister and I came downstairs, we sat sullenly at the kitchen table. She pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast at both of us. Then she sat down.
“I really don’t like the idea of you two manipulating your eyelids,” she stated and her eyes darted between both of us.
“Why not?” Tori asked. “What’s the big deal?”
“I’m not sure if you two are old enough for me to thoroughly discuss the countless reasons I am against it,” my mom said, as she rubbed her forehead. She was clearly upset, but trying to hold it all together.
“Try me,” Tori challenged. “I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.”
“Okay,” my mother started. “What is the purpose of that tape? It’s different from regular makeup, which adds color and highlights your existing features. That tape causes a physical change in your face.”
“So?” said Tori.
“You were born with Korean eyes. There is absolutely nothing wrong with them. Are they smaller than Western eyes? Yes. Is that a problem? No! Don’t get caught up with Western concepts of beauty. Why is it suddenly so important that you have ‘big eyes’?” she used her fingers for air quotes. “Next thing you know, you’ll be asking for eyelid surgery!” She was gesturing pretty wildly with her hands, so I knew she was passionate about what she was saying.
“But all the models in Korean magazines have double-eyelids!” Tori argued. “And Grandma already said she would take us to Korea one day to get the ssangapul surgery! She doesn’t seem to think it’s a bad thing!”
My mother looked shocked. “She certainly will not! You two are lovely just the way you are. I don’t want my girls to have fake dolls’ faces. That’s kind of what I see when I look at those magazines. Do you honestly think those girls were born with eyes like that? Ever hear of air brushing, Tori? Cosmetic surgery? Don’t be fooled by all those perfect faces on magazines from any country.
“Tori, I love that you have a sense of style and a real talent for fashion. That is a completely different thing than deciding to cosmetically alter your face, or coming to the conclusion that the eyes you were born with are somehow not good enough. I am not against makeup or dressing nicely and feeling good about yourself. I am against you changing your Korean-ness or whatever you want to call it, because you have been so negatively influenced by the media and pop culture to think that there is something wrong with your eyes or your face. What’s the next logical step to that way of thinking? Bleach your skin white and dye your hair blonde?”
“But you didn’t say anything about it when I first had it done for the party,” I said. I was so confused. Why did she seem to like it then and absolutely hate it now?
“I was not thrilled when you came home with it done, but because it was for a party, I let it go. I didn’t want to ruin your day. But that was dress-up! This is real life!” My mother was kind of yelling.
Tori probably understood what my mom was talking about more than I did. She was older and this was probably the stuff they talked about in high school, right? Instead of Tori arguing, which it looked like she was going to do for a second, she suddenly backed down. Tori looked as though she was thinking very hard and I saw her shoulders slump a little bit. “Okay, Mom. I get it.”
“Do you, Tori?” my mom asked, seeming visibly calmer. “I’m glad. You’re smart enough to understand what I mean, right? You know, Grandma comes from a different generation and a different culture. I don’t always agree with how she thinks. I know, I know, we’re all Korean, but I know what I think and what I find important is not the same as what Korean women in Korea feel. Different culture, different priorities, different attitudes.
“For us here, we are Korean, but we are also Canadian. Can we be both? Yes. Can we be one without the other? I don’t think so. Our Korean-ness is all mushed up with our Canadian-ness. It’s that combination that makes us who we are. I guess, long story short—let’s just embrace what we were born with and like ourselves the way we are. I really want you two to lose the eye tape, okay? It shouldn’t be part of your daily life.”
“Okay, Mom,” we both said.
Then my mom turned to me and said, “Krista, I think it’s great that you are trying to learn things from Tori and trying to find your own sense of style. I’m glad you two are having a good time together as sisters. I don’t mind you changing up the way you dress a little, in fact, we should go shopping and buy you new clothes that you want—there’s no need to always have hand-me-downs because you’re younger. But please, don’t forget who you are.”
The problem was, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.
CHAPTER 15
At school, while we were standing outside waiting for the morning bell to ring, Emma walked up to me and said, “Krista! Those boots are cool.” They were just Tori’s old shoes. I can’t believe the stuff people notice. Every time I wore something new, at least one of the girls paid me a compliment. An actual compliment, not the kind Grandma gave. The party had only been a few weeks before, but felt like a lifetime ago.
Despite my efforts, I could still feel that Jason and I weren’t the same. I made it a point to speak to him as often as I could, but for some reason our conversations started to feel stiff. I was still spending more time with the girls, and Jason spent more time with the boys. The girls had been so into the Celebration of Dance that they noticed I was struggling with the choreography and they totally helped me get the moves down. I was grateful.
Then this morning, we got to pick groups for our science experiment, and I ended up with Madison and Jason ended up with Marcus and the boys. They got into trouble because they didn’t follow the instructions properly and made a huge mess. Mrs. June made them stay in at recess and clean up.
Jason didn’t look very happy about it. I don’t think he had ever been in trouble before in his entire life. So it was another recess that I didn’t spend with Jason, and now I felt like I was standing on a beach and he was a boat just drifting away while I watched. I could literally feel the space between us, but I felt helpless.
Our project was going to be due soon, and that was pretty much all we had been working on at school, except for our Celebration of Dance preparations. I was very eager to get both of them over with. We spent the afternoon at the library again, and it seemed that everybody else was busy working away. I was still formulating my final ideas, but I had a general idea what I was going to do and I just wanted to do it at home.
I was sitting at a table looking out the window at nothing when Madison came and sat next to me. “You’re really getting the moves down for our dance! And by the way, that is a great shirt,” she said to me. Madison had a nose for expensive things. It didn’t have the company logo splashed across the front of it, but it was an expensive brand-name shirt. I wondered how she knew these things.