I Believe in a Thing Called Love

by Maurene Goo

  I went on. “Well, so after a hot guy saw my green-striped underwear on Friday, I actually watched a bunch of K dramas. Like, three of them.”

  “Three episodes?”

  “No, shows. Like entire series!”

  Fiona turned onto the main road, then looked over at me incredulously. “You watched three series of shows in one weekend?! Aren’t they, like, one hundred episodes each?”

  “No! They’re all different, running from, like, ten to twenty.”

  “What! Are you on speed?”

  “I was propelled by epic flailure, Fi. And call me crazy but I think Luca and I had a serious moment.”

  “You mean before your pants fell off?”

  “Fi!”

  We got to school and she turned off the ignition and stared at me. “Okay, in all seriousness. A moment? Didn’t you know him for a total of thirty minutes before … you know?”

  A mental flash of Luca staring down at the gray puddle of sweats at my feet. I shook my head to erase it like an Etch A Sketch. “Yeah, but … I can’t explain it.”

  “I can. He’s hot.” Fiona shook her head.

  “It’s not just that! I mean, yes, my God. He’s hot. But he also…” I looked away from her and into my lap where I was nervously wringing my hands, embarrassed to go into details. “He did this thing—he took my pencil from me and freaking drew a picture of me. It was … so. Romantic. It was the most special thing any guy has ever done for me.”

  Fiona was silent for a second. “You are such a dork.”

  I swatted Fiona’s arm. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m serious! Sorry I’m not an experienced seductress who like, has men drinking champagne from her high heels.”

  “What! That alone, Des, makes me really worry about you. What you know about romance is, like, weird clichéd crap. From 1980s champagne commercials.”

  We sat in the car, the air growing chilly with the heater turned off. “Well, that’s the whole point, right? Something is clearly wrong with me. I’m stunted or just … lacking something when it comes to relationship stuff. It’s not natural for me. But. When do I excel at stuff?”

  Fiona threw up her hands. “I dunno, you excel at most things.”

  “Yes! And do you know why? Most things have rules, steps, and methods for getting better.”

  Fiona looked at me, hard. “What are you getting at?”

  I pulled out my notebook and held it up with a grin. “I discovered the steps to conquering flailure.” I handed the notebook to Fiona. Her face remained impassive while she read.

  When her eyeballs finally stilled I waited expectantly for her response.

  Her electric-blue-lined eyes shifted over to mine.

  “Are you … out of your damn mind?”

  I released a tortured breath. “Hear me out—”

  “No way, Des. This is the most deranged thing I have ever seen, even for you. Some of these things … I mean … who the hell…”

  “Fi, I’m not going to take it all literally. Some of the real wacko stuff you’re reading is part of these formulas but not necessarily things I need to do. It’s a rough … inspirational blueprint if you will. But it essentially lays out, step-by-step, all the ways to get into predicaments that will endear me to Luca and then ultimately get us closer together.”

  “Oh God, you’re getting that annoying look on your face.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that look that always gets stuff done.” I flipped to the blank pages after the list. “So here I’ll be writing little notes on my progress and my actual tactics.”

  While her expression was still dubious, the deep creases in her forehead unfurrowed slightly. “Okay, so what was step 1 again?” Fiona reached for the notebook and flipped to the list. “You Are the Living Embodiment of All That Is Pure and Good.” She looked at me, then cracked up.

  I crossed my arms. “That one … well, some I’ll have to kind of gloss over.”

  “Please. Desi, you collect cans for the needy, hug trees, and tutor idiots. You’ve got the goody-two-shoes thing down.”

  Sometimes the line between compliment and insult was so very fine. “Thanks, friend. Moving on … see, number 2, Have a Sad-Sack Family Story? Check.”

  Fiona shot me a quick, cautious look. “Well, I mean, this kinda applies to you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not a sad sack, obviously. But on the surface, to strangers, the dead-mom thing is always, like, the ultimate. Fairy-tale-princess-level tragedy.”

  Fiona nodded. “Okay, fine. And number 3. Meet the World’s Most Unattainable Guy. Hm. I don’t know if he’s the world’s most unattainable, but okay, you’ve met him. Step number 4, Let the Guy Get to You—Whether It’s from Annoyance or Obsession.”

  We were both silent for a second and then Fiona smacked me over the head with the notebook. “You are beyond obsessed.”

  “Ouch!” I rubbed my head. “Anyway, yeah, obsession level pretty much reached. So where does that leave us now? Step number 5.”

  Fiona glanced down at the notebook. “Have a Secret Dream That Brings You Closer to the Guy. What’s your secret dream? Do you have one?”

  “Well, my actual dream isn’t a secret at all: Stanford, then med school. But for this to work, it has to be a secret dream that brings me closer to Luca.”

  Rolling down her window, Fiona let a cold gust of air into the car and took a deep breath. “This plan is making every feminist hair on me stand on end.”

  “Whatever, Fi. Feminism isn’t just one thing. Me taking control of my love life is totally feminist.”

  “If you say so. And did you think of a secret dream?”

  I popped up my coat collar and burrowed my face into it to shield myself against the cool air. “Yup,” I said in a muffled voice.

  “I’m afraid to hear it.”

  “Art.”

  She choked. I pounded her back.

  STEP 6:

  Doggedly Pursue Your Dream, No Matter the Cost to Your Well-Being

  My outfit was totally wasted that day because I didn’t see Luca at all. As soon as the bell rang for the start of AP English, Shelly blurted out, “Where’s Luca?”

  Ms. Lyman looked up from her desk and rolled her eyes. “Clerical error. Sorry, ladies. He wasn’t supposed to be in AP English.”

  I knew it was too good to be true. Between classes, I looked for him in the hallways but he was nowhere to be found. I was a little disappointed but also somewhat relieved. Now I had a bit more time to figure out how to salvage my pride when I saw him again after the sweatpants incident. Which would be at my first Art Club meeting tomorrow.

  That evening, I guzzled down a couple mugs of coffee to stay awake until dinner. I also needed to hype myself up for the K drama antics ahead, so I started another drama with my dad while cooking.

  “Appa, how does a character in these dramas save face after they do something really embarrassing?” I asked as I stirred the giant batch of spaghetti sauce I was making. Our kitchen and family room were part of an open floor plan, so I could easily watch Flower Boy Ramen Shop while cooking. And I use the word cooking generously—spaghetti was one of three meals that I could confidently cook without my dad politely pulling out Korean side dishes to compensate.

  From his position on the recliner, my dad took a thoughtful sip of beer before responding. “Okay, well, usually they just have to be brave and not be so embarrassed. Many drama girls are very strong and that is why the boys like them even if they aren’t the prettiest ones.”

  Well, that was reassuring. I added some garlic powder to the bubbling marinara. “So, they just kind of deal with it?”

  “Ya. Deal with it.”

  Afterward, still buzzing from the caffeine, I Googled the K dramas I’d watched and read up on every bit of fun info on the casts. And then I discovered the wonderful world of hilarious K drama blogs and Tumblr gifs; the fandom that existed for these shows was huge.

  I fell asleep with my phone inches away from my face, streaming Flower Boy Ramen Sh
op.

  * * *

  The next day after school, on to step 6 of doggedly pursuing my dream, I headed to my first Art Club meeting. I had spoken to Mr. Rosso, the Art Club adviser, yesterday and he said I’d just need to bring a sketch pad and pencils for today because this meeting happened to be a field trip to the zoo. Like, first-grade style. The K drama steps notebook, nestled with my brand-new art supplies, was in my backpack to fortify my resolve.

  But the second I got on the school bus, I suddenly wanted to turn around like the Road Runner and book it the hell out of there. Meep-meep! Brave K drama heroine be damned. I was familiar with most of the student body but this was the “artsy” crowd—a group of hipster types who made me feel two inches tall for blasting Taylor Swift and reading Twilight. Not that I’ve ever done that. At the same time.

  And I was fully aware this move was kinda lame since Luca knew I wasn’t in Art Club and would suspect I’d joined because of him.

  “Desi?” a girl with a bleached-blond pixie cut called out dubiously. It was Cassidy from my soccer team. I scurried over to her, relieved to see a familiar face.

  “Hey,” I said, sitting down next to her and attempting to smile, like this was all totally normal.

  Cassidy smiled back quizzically. “What are you doing here?”

  My eyes darted around the bus, looking for Luca, but no sign of him yet. “Um, well, I’m joining Art Club?”

  “Wow, really? Never would have guessed…” Cassidy’s voice trailed off. Before I could respond with some flimsy excuse to substantiate my presence, I looked out the window and saw Luca walking toward the bus with some girl—all long limbs and combat boots. Her mirrored Ray-Bans glinted in the sun, and she tossed her lavender-tipped black hair over her shoulder. The two of them lowered their heads together and laughed as they walked to the bus.

  What in the bloody f-ing EFF was this. Did he have a girlfriend already? Three days into a new school?

  When they stepped onto the bus, Luca stopped to say hi to someone sitting in the front and I turned my back to the aisle so he couldn’t see me. This was the worst plan ever, what in the world was I thinking—

  “Desi Lee? Wow, knew you were an extracurricular hoarder, but stooping so low as to join Art Club?”

  The question was aimed at my back, so all I saw was Cassidy’s reaction. Her jaw dropped and her green eyes bulged out. “Violet!” she exclaimed.

  I turned around and looked at said Violet. She of the waist-long hair, ripped black jeans, and worn-out white V-neck. Complete with ironic fanny pack.

  I stared at her. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “I’m shocked you don’t know me, my word. Me being a constituent of yours and all. Violet. Violet Choi,” she practically drawled.

  Choi. Korean. Hm, I couldn’t place her and I was totally unprepared for this sudden open animosity.

  “So what’s your problem?” I snapped.

  “My problem”—Violet’s voice was high-pitched, as if to imitate me—“is that as the most annoying overachiever at Monte Vista, you’re everywhere. And Art Club is the one place where I could get away from you because you’re not an artist.”

  I was so shocked that I couldn’t even register that Luca was probably witnessing all of this. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. I may be the textbook definition of high school popular but I wasn’t the type to have any enemies because of it. I liked to think that I was well liked because I was friendly. This wasn’t some clichéd high school full of evil queen bees and long-suffering bullied types. Or so I thought. I didn’t know how to respond.

  What does a K drama heroine do when faced with blatant bitchiness? Suddenly I remembered when Eun-Sol from Protect the Boss got an ice cream cone shoved onto her butt from that drama’s queen bitch. Her reaction was to remain calm and stay sweet even in the face of blatant animosity.

  Luca was now standing next to Violet in the middle of the aisle. So even though my eyes went prickly—that mortifying feeling before they filled up with tears—I kept my mouth shut. His brow furrowed when I made split-second eye contact with him.

  That small hint of concern landed a face-punch of swoon into my heart. And immediately, I forgot that this was the first time he was talking to me after the sweatpants disaster.

  He glanced over at Violet and asked, “Do you guys know each other?”

  His eyes stayed cool as he looked between the two of us. I was quiet, still trying to wrangle the crazy mix of rage, humiliation, and hormonal butterflies hurtling through me.

  Cassidy spoke up even though he hadn’t directed the question at her. “Um, yeah, Desi and I are on the soccer team. Do you guys know each other?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

  I glanced at Luca, who shrugged and answered, “Kind of. I know she prefers briefs over thongs.” He looked straight at me with a shit-eating grin.

  Oh. My. Gaaaaaah.

  Cassidy’s mouth dropped ever so slightly and Violet’s head swiveled toward me at demon speed. Before I could react, Mr. Rosso walked onto the bus and bellowed, “All right, my little Renoirs, let’s get seated!” He patted his belly with relish, his Hawaiian shirt lifting a little at the bottom. “Everyone ready for the zoo?” He was met with some very deliberate silence.

  Mr. Rosso chose that moment to look over at us and say, “Oh yes, first things first. We have two new members—everyone give a warm welcome to Desi Lee and Luca Drakos.” Someone clapped slowly and deliberately in the background and laughter erupted.

  Mr. Rosso glared at the clapper. “Anyway, Desi and Luca, we’ve been spending the last couple of weeks working on our pieces for a charity art show. All proceeds will be benefiting the California State Parks fund. But today we’re taking a little break for some drawing at the zoo.”

  I nodded—smiling on the outside, crying on the inside. “Sounds really great,” I chirped quickly.

  More laughter, and I heard Violet squeal, “Yeah, really great!”

  Mr. Rosso sat down with a last look behind him. “The rest of you—behave, we should get there in about twenty.”

  Violet sat next to Luca a couple of rows in front of Cassidy and me. Hmph.

  Cassidy shot me a questioning look. “So … Luca knows what kind of underwear—”

  I waved a hand to silence her. “It’s not what you think. He’s joking.”

  Cassidy looked like she wanted to keep digging but pressed her lips together instead. After a few seconds she said, “Sorry about Violet, she’s not usually such a…” Her hushed voice trailed off.

  “Warm, welcoming presence?” I finished drily.

  She snorted. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know, she’s just super-passionate about art and has some strong opinions on people that she thinks are … poseurs.” Her voice got a little sheepish.

  I sniffed indignantly even though I was technically a poseur. I glanced over to Violet and Luca. “So, um, are those two together or something?” I hoped my hair toss made the question believably easy-breezy.

  Cassidy’s brow furrowed. “Huh? Luca and Violet?” Could her voice be any louder?!

  I smiled through gritted teeth. “Yeah?”

  “No, no way. He hasn’t even been here for a week, girl would have to move fast.” She smiled devilishly. “Not that she won’t, believe me. She’s had her sights set on him since art class on Friday.”

  Over my dead body. “Hm,” I replied calmly.

  Cassidy leaned in closer. “But I think it’s a hopeless case.” I briefly had a Harry Chen flashback. Did Luca … not like girls?! But Cassidy continued. “Some girl asked him out in class, the first day, and I actually overheard him say he doesn’t want a girlfriend.”

  It was my turn to furrow my brow. “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows. I figured it was because he’s this major serious artist and I know he’s going after this big scholarship to help pay for RISD if he gets in.” She glanced at me. “Rhode Island—”

  “School of Design. Yeah, I know the name
of every college in North America.” I immediately regretted saying it. I smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m a freak.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Noted.”

  I looked at her curiously. “How do you know so much about him already?”

  Cassidy blushed. “He was talking in class about RISD and the scholarship and … um, you know, you just hear things.” A few seconds passed and her shoulders slumped. “Also, I looked him up online.”

  Couldn’t blame the girl.

  I settled deeply in my seat, staring at the back of Luca’s beanie-bedecked head. I was relieved that he and that terrible human being weren’t together, but the whole mysterious no-girlfriend thing was a major obstacle I hadn’t anticipated.

  Good thing there was nothing that motivated me more than hearing that I couldn’t do something.

  * * *

  Well, the verdict was in: I cannot draw. I erased my unintentionally Cubist giraffe furiously.

  Cassidy glanced over at my sketchbook and tried to keep a straight face. “Honestly, if you were good at this, too, I might have to kill you.”

  While that was flattering, it drove me crazy to hear that. I stared at my shitty giraffe mutinously.

  We were sitting on a bench across from the giraffe pen. Everyone had paired off as soon as we got there, and before I could even attempt to talk to Luca, Violet had linked her arm through his and whisked him away. Hm, I wasn’t the only one without shame.

  So here I was with Cassidy, trying to draw animals. This was not going according to plan.

  “Hey, have you seen Luca?”

  My head snapped up to see a furious Violet stalking over to Cassidy.

  “No, did he ditch you?” Cassidy teased.

  Hands on bony hips, Violet scowled. “Not funny.” God, what a gem. “I’ve been looking for him for the past twenty minutes. He said he was headed off to the bathroom and then, like, completely disappeared.”

  “Maybe you should call the lost and found,” I muttered.

  She glanced at me with her upper lip curled. “I’m sorry, was I talking to you?”

  You know what? In Protect the Boss, Eun-Sol eventually shoved an ice cream cone onto the bitch’s butt, too. Have backbone on occasion.