by Maurene Goo
Her shoulders dropped a little. “I know, Lu. And I’m sorry. I never fully got to tell you how sorry I am, and how much I appreciated you taking the blame. You know my parents made me break up with you because of your arrest. They threatened to take away my car. They even switched my phone and monitored my e-mails and social media!”
Luca kept his arms folded in front of him, protective. “Is that why you wouldn’t talk to me, even at school?”
“I had to make it realistic to get them off my back.” She took a little step toward him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“C’mon, I drove all the way from Ojai and ditched school today to make things right. I still feel the same about you.” Her eyes never left his. “Besides, with the RISD early acceptance letters out, you can relax now.”
I raised my eyebrows at Violet. She nodded in confirmation. I looked back at Luca, who seemed caught off guard. “How did you know that I got in?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you got in. What art school in their right mind would reject you?”
He scoffed. “I don’t know, Em, I had to be honest and put the arrest on the application. There was a good chance I could have gotten rejected because of what I did! For you.”
Emily started pulling her curls into a bun, the hem of her lacy white shirt lifting to reveal the tightest set of abs I’d ever seen. “Please. You got arrested for graffiti and you were applying to an art school. They love that stuff.”
Some tension seemed to ease from Luca’s face. “Actually, I did manage to spin it as a political statement in my essay.”
Emily laughed and threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy for you, Lu! I knew you could do it.”
He didn’t pull away. Instead he smiled a little and his eyes softened as they looked at her. “Thanks. When do you hear back from SVA? That’s still your first choice, right?”
She nodded. “I’m not finding out until April.”
And then. Oh, Lord. She tilted her head at him in that way again, and I swear her face turned into a fuzzy, Vaseline-lens version of itself, just imploring to be kissed. And he did. He kissed her.
Oh God. I suddenly realized how wrong it was for us to be witnessing this. And by Violet’s expression, she did, too. But we were stuck now. We could only stare at each other with wide eyes.
They broke apart and she grinned. “We make sense together, Lu. You in Orange freaking County? Does not make sense.”
He laughed really quickly, honk and all. My heart lurched. “I know, right? This place.”
She dug into her pocket then and pulled out her phone. “Let’s take a selfie to commemorate us getting back together!”
Luca made a face. “What, really? No, c’mon.”
Seriously, what a weird thing to do right when you get together with your ex-boyfriend?
“We have to!” She was already getting into the pose, pulling his arm around her shoulders.
He sighed. “Okay, but just don’t post it everywhere. It’s weird.”
Tilting her head just so, she smiled and spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m just posting it to Instagram; I have a new account my parents don’t know about. Everyone else has to know we’re back together!”
He looked at her. “Why?”
She was already editing the photo, swiping as if on autopilot. Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Because we’re the hottest couple.”
Violet’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh and I bit back the urge to do the same.
“Can’t we just enjoy this for, like, a second before sharing with everyone?” he asked, peering down at her.
“Hm?” Emily’s fingers were tapping furiously. “I knew it. I already have seven likes.”
Luca stood very still for a minute before sighing heavily. “What about commemorating alone? Since this is about us?”
“Alone?” She finally looked up from her social media blitz.
The silence crackled and I held my breath.
“You know what? Never mind.” Luca stepped away from her.
Emily’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”
“You just reminded me how it’s never been about me, or how you feel about me. How it’s about manipulating your image, what it looks like to everyone else. How I can never tell what’s real.” Manipulating. I felt a little ill.
The smile completely wiped off her face, Emily narrowed her eyes and lowered her phone. “What? Don’t act all holier than thou. It’s always been about image with you, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t like dating the hottest girl in school.”
OMG.
Luca laughed again, but not his honky genuine laugh. A harsh, bitter one. “Wow, do you hear yourself? I regret nothing. I’m glad I got arrested. Not only did it reveal your true colors, but it’s probably going to help me get my scholarship.”
“What are you talking about?” Her bitchiness was thinly veiled at this point. “Why the hell would you need a scholarship? Your dad could buy RISD.”
Luca shook his head, as if she was an idiot. “Did you ever listen to anything I said about him? My dad will only pay for college if I study anything but art. And you know my mom can’t afford it.”
Violet and I looked at each other again, totally feeling guilty and terrible about this entire ordeal.
Luca, on the other hand, was getting more relaxed by the second, his hands stuck into his puffy-vest pockets. “Anyway, the financial aid I got with my acceptance wasn’t enough. So I applied for the biggest art scholarship in the country with a project that’s going to win it. And your little Banksy phase inspired it. So thanks.”
The graffiti.
Emily cracked her neck, suddenly all gangsta. “Well, I thought I’d give this a try—but I don’t need this shit. What a waste of ditching school.” I truly hated her. She gave Luca a condescending pat on the arm before walking by him with a passing, “Good luck with that scholarship, Lu.”
She swept through the curtains with finality. Luca stood there for a second, hands on his hips. Then he knocked over a stack of canvases, the sound of them clattering onto the floor reverberating through the room.
I held my breath, trying not to make a peep. Clearly, his cool demeanor with Emily had been just an act.
He stared down at the mess he had made, breathing heavily. Then, after a few seconds, he knelt down to pick it all up, resigned and slow in his movements. It took every bit of my willpower not to run over and help him.
When he finally left the room, you could hear a pin drop. I felt light-headed with the deluge of knowledge that had just flooded me in the past five minutes.
“Oh. My. God.”
I startled, having forgotten that Violet was standing there next to me. She was shaking her head. “What the hell was that? I felt like we were in a damn soap opera!”
Without thinking, I responded, “I know, right? What a bitch.”
Violet held her hands up with an aghast expression. “She needs to jugeo.” I giggled at her use of the Korean word for die.
She continued. “I guess that explains the whole not-wanting-to-date thing? She let him get arrested for her shit? And then she broke up with him!”
It was true. That was it. That was why Luca was so elusive. His big no-dating secret. I’m sure jaded didn’t even begin to describe Luca’s take on relationships.
“Damn her,” I muttered under my breath.
Violet looked at me then and her expression cooled, as if she suddenly realized that we weren’t friends. “Well, I guess the coast is clear, huh? Now you can prove yourself to be the good girl.” The bitterness was palpable.
“Um, I don’t…” I trailed off.
She sighed. “It’s obvious that for some reason he has a thing for you.”
Really?!
“Trust me, I’m just as confused as you are. But actually, after seeing that drama train wreck, I can see why he’d want someone a little … tidier.” She looked me up and down with an air of disapproval.
I scowled. “Am I supposed to thank you or something? You’ve been such a—”
“Bitch? So what? We like the same guy, and you annoy the crap out of me. Deal.” She started walking away.
This wasn’t right. “Hey! Violet!”
She stopped and turned, blowing her hair out of her face with irritation. “What?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I ever did to make you so annoyed by me. It really … I don’t know, sucks to have that directed at you for no reason, you know?”
“Wow, you are so full of yourself. You have no idea why I’d be annoyed by you?”
“No.”
“Okay, first of all, we’ve known each other since we were little.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
She shifted so that she was standing directly in front of me, arms crossed. “We used to be friends in Korean school. But back then we called each other by our Korean names; mine was Min-Jee.” Korean school? I hadn’t gone to Korean school since I was seven; I barely remembered all those Saturday afternoons spent at a church learning the Korean alphabet and such.
Wait. Oh, God. Min-Jee. I suddenly remembered her. She had been chubby and shy. And liked to draw. A lot. She always drew Disney princesses and Sanrio characters for me at my beck and call.
She must have seen the recognition cross my face. “Yeah, right? Well, you were my only friend at that place back then, and you just bailed. Without a trace. And so imagine my surprise when I saw you for the first time, here, freshman year. Like, yay! It’s freaking Hye-Jin. But you didn’t remember me, and you were so involved in all this popular school shit, you would never talk to the art freaks who smoked pot. I actually tried being your friend, do you remember?”
I bit my lip, trying really hard to place this version of Violet but I couldn’t. “I don’t know. I really don’t remember…”
Violet glared at me. “Do you realize how much worse that is? That you were so wrapped up in your own crap you don’t even remember someone trying to be your friend? So rude. But now, oh suddenly, you’re into art because of a dude? It’s lame.”
That stung. Because it was true. “Sorry, Violet. I didn’t mean to be a jerk or a snob, I just…” So many things were running through my mind. But something she had said earlier stuck. And my sheepishness gave way to anger. I crossed my arms, too, trying to keep cool. “By the way, I bailed on Korean school because my mom died and we couldn’t afford it anymore.”
Violet blinked a few times, and I saw the swagger leave her, and her arms dropped to her sides. She bit her lip. “Oh. I didn’t … God, I’m sorry.” It was the moment I called the “M-Bomb”—whenever I told anyone about my mom’s death for the first time.
I sighed. “It’s fine, it was a long time ago. But yeah, maybe that explains things. And maybe you could get over it now.” I brushed by her, leaving the classroom and stepping outside.
The sunshine blinded me and I took a moment to regain my composure, dazed by the weirdness of the past few minutes. And when I looked up, I saw Luca. And our eyes met.
STEP 11:
Prove That You Are Different from All Other Women—IN THE ENTIRE WORLD
Okay. Either he knows or he doesn’t know. Astoundingly astute hypothesis, Des. Just pure science in that impressive brain.
I glanced away, my heart thumping. And then I heard the studio door behind me swing open and saw Violet duck out. She glanced at me briefly before noticing Luca. He gaped at the both of us, his expression growing incredulous. Uh-oh. I needed to explain myself, stat. I had started walking toward him when he turned around and bolted. Ran away from me.
Despair hung over me as I stood there staring after him. Now what? Had I messed it up for good this time?
But I already knew the answer. No amount of miscommunication ever actually ended a relationship in K dramas. In fact, it was like a chemical that made the relationship stronger in the end. Mutated and fortified it.
I dug my wallet out of my backpack and unfolded my worn-out list. Since I had messed up, I now had a perfect opportunity to make up for it by employing step 11: Prove That You Are Different from All Other Women—IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
And I knew exactly how do it.
* * *
A few days later, Fiona and I were pulling up to a parking lot overgrown with weeds. She careened Penny into a spot. “You ready?”
I took a deep breath. “I guess. Somehow I’ve managed to not see Won Bin for four days. I think he’s been avoiding me. He didn’t show up to Art Club and I don’t know if he’ll come today so … as ready as I’ll ever be?”
We were at a youth center in the next town over—basically “the other side of the tracks,” where people weren’t all racially and socioeconomically homogeneous. Fiona had been volunteering here since freshman year and I had suggested planning an Art Club workshop with her, complete with an art supply donation from a local store. In K dramas, it was always the pure goodness of the heroine that really pierced through the guy’s Rochester-like cynicism about love. I was hoping that watching me interact lovingly with children would appeal to some biological straight-guy instinct. For him to come to the conclusion that I wasn’t actually a nosy weirdo, but rather an angelic, maternal type whom children flocked to. Classic K drama heroine. And the complete opposite of Emily.
So it was time to be that girl.
After getting a very reluctant Fiona to help, I also managed to convince Mr. Rosso to have our Art Club spend a Friday afternoon at the youth center and teach them some art.
Fiona and I walked into the big playroom in the rec center and started arranging tables and chairs into groups for the kids to work at together. We had arrived earlier than everyone else; the rest of the Art Club kids were taking a bus from school. By the time they showed up, the room was pretty much Lord of the Flies–level mayhem and Fiona and I were trying to get things under control. I saw Violet pop in, and she immediately beelined toward Cassidy after glancing at me quickly. Hm. I couldn’t tell if her hate for me had cooled down a bit since the M-bomb had been dropped or if she was just still embarrassed by the entire sneaky art-closet ordeal.
And for the billionth time in my life, I was looking for Luca when Mr. Rosso walked up to me, panama hat perched jauntily on his head. “What did you sign us up for here, Desi?”
I shot a pleading look at Fiona. She said, “Don’t worry, I got this.”
Then she whistled so loudly that a few kids dropped to the floor on their knees and covered their ears. “Sit down. NOW.” Her growl literally rumbled through the room. The thirty or so kids all scrambled to find seats on the bright orange plastic chairs arranged around the tables.
And then there he was.
Flutter. Pitter-patter.
Hovering in the doorway, he was looking into the room coolly.
Trying not to be discouraged, I assigned the Art Club students to each group, two of us to a table. We were supposed to get the kids started on some sketches and then eventually have finished work by the end of the workshop. When it was my turn to pick Luca’s group I tried to get his attention but he kept his eyes on his phone.
“And, um, Luca, you and I can work with this group.” His head snapped up and we made brief eye contact before he strode over to the group and plopped himself into a chair. All right. This is how you wanna play it? I got all day for this, buddy!
Our group was made up of two boys, named Micah and Jessie, and two girls, named Christine and Reese. (Named after Reese Witherspoon, as she proudly announced promptly after settling in to our group.) They ranged in age from six to nine and were all very excited. Normally they just played outside or had to do homework, so this was a bit of a special day for them.
Luca leaned back, still staring at his phone. I frowned and clapped my hands. “Okay, guys, so today we’re going to work on some fun art! Let’s start with some sketches! Do you guys know what sketching is?”
The four kids stared at me. Micah burped.
“Hm
, okay. Sketches are rough drawings that you do to warm up before you start the real finished piece you want to do.”
Luca cleared his throat loudly. I glared at him. “Do you have something to say or are you just killin’ it on Candy Crush right now?”
He didn’t look up from his screen. “Sketches don’t have to be unfinished, they can be their own finished pieces, too.”
Jessie waved her hand in the air. “So sketches are art, too?”
Before I could reply, Luca answered, “Yeah, art is whatever you want it to be.” He looked up at me. “Don’t let narrow-minded people try to define it for you.”
Laying it on thick, Luca. I smiled directly at him. “Thanks for that. Not surprised that someone whose first word was Impressionism would have such a thorough knowledge of art.”
Luca tilted his head and looked at me with a smile. “Are you stalking my fan pages?”
Reese threw up her little arms. “This is boring!”
I focused back on the kids. “Okay, sorry. Everyone grab some paper.”
I had envisioned a peaceful afternoon of me gently guiding the youth to see the beauty of the world through art. It started off okay: the kids sat quietly and drew for the most part. I walked around, trying to be helpful and suggest ideas. Luca even straightened up and started chatting with Jessie about his SpongeBob sketch.
But as soon as Micah discovered the markers and drew a tattoo on himself, it went downhill.
“Look, a tattoo!” Micah said, proudly holding up his arm, which now had a giant cat drawn on it.
“That’s a stupid tattoo,” Reese sniffed, but she immediately reached across the table and grabbed a fistful of markers from the Tupperware box of supplies. Jessie and Christine immediately followed, and they all started scribbling on themselves.
“You guys!” I cried. “Stop that! Right now! We’re supposed to be working on our sketches!”
Markers were clearly a bad idea and I scrambled to try to get them back, but I ended up playing tug-of-war with Reese instead. “Reese, we’re not using these anymore,” I said sternly.
She yanked my hand. “It’s not fair, I want to use them!” We were both standing now, each of us clutching the bundle of markers with both hands.