Made in Korea

by Sarah Suk

  I followed Charlie down to the first floor, my heart thudding in my ears. We turned the corner into the band room, and I heard it before I saw it.

  The sound of buyers. A whole crowd of them.

  And they were buzzing.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, which face mask are you going to get? I’m going to get the one that Shiyoon Oppa designed.”

  “Girl, you know Alex Oppa is my bias. But honestly, I’m probably going to buy one of each. You know these masks are sold exclusively in Korea, right? We can’t even get these online, so we should just stock up as much as we can now.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re so right. That’s the way to go. I hope they’re not sold out by the time we get to the front!”

  I stood on my tiptoes to look past the chattering line. And then I spotted them.

  Wes Jung and Pauline Lim were standing at the front of the room with a row of music stands behind them and a cash box in Pauline’s arms. Each music stand was lined with face-mask packages. There were dozens of them, and five different colors to choose from: silver, blue, black, orange, and white. Each package was printed with a different cartoon tiger, corresponding to the color of the mask inside. I recognized those tigers immediately. Crown Tiger beauty merch.

  What. The. Hell.

  “What is this?” I demanded, my voice coming out sharp and clipped.

  Charlie narrowed his eyes, looking back and forth between Wes and Pauline. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Whatever it was, I was going to put a stop to it right now. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the complaints of the students in line and Charlie calling out behind me. Amelia was at the front, batting her eyes at Wes as she filled her tiger-striped tote bag with face masks. A tote bag that said CROWN TIGER in big metallic letters across the front.

  “Oh, hey, Valerie!” Amelia said, spotting me. “Are you a Royal Stripe too?”

  “A what?” It was taking all of my control to keep my voice level.

  She pursed her lips. “Well, if you don’t know, you obviously aren’t one. It’s the name of Crown Tiger’s fandom.”

  “That’s great.” I turned to Wes, who was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with me, even though I was literally standing right in front of him. How dare he pretend I’m not here? “Hey. Wes Jung. Can I have a word?”

  “Oh, hey, Valerie,” he said in an Oh, I didn’t see you there! kind of way. I wanted to take Amelia’s tote bag and throw it at him. “Sure. Um, Pauline? Will you be okay on your own for a sec?”

  Pauline glanced at me before giving him a nod. The angry, coiling feeling in my stomach grew tighter. Of all people, why was Pauline Lim helping him? She didn’t even care about beauty products. She’d never shopped with us once since we started our business.

  Wes followed me to the side of the room. The first time we’d met, I thought I’d set him straight. I hadn’t heard anything otherwise last week, so I thought things were back to normal, as they should be. So why was he back? And the better question was, why was he back selling face masks?

  I stared hard at him, trying to figure him out. He was tall with cool glasses that made me wonder if he really needed them or if they were just for fashion. With his strong jawline and full lips, he could probably be a model if he wanted to. He even had that deep, soulful look in his eyes that people loved in models. Ugh. Kristy Lo was right. He was annoyingly handsome. I shook my head quickly, clearing my thoughts to focus. He kept rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, like he was nervous around me. As he should be. He had no idea.

  “This, um, this isn’t what it looks like,” he said, looking at me with something like hope. “Can I explain? Please?”

  For a second, I considered taking a deep breath and saying yes, fine, go ahead—like an adult would do, like Samantha would probably do. If I tempered my anger and looked at Wes, really looked at him beyond his potentially fake glasses, I could see that he had an air of open honesty to him that made me want to give him the benefit of the doubt. But then I heard Kristy Lo’s voice carry across the band room, exclaiming, “Give me two of everything. I won’t need another face mask for weeks!”

  My walls immediately snapped back into place. The tight feeling in my stomach grew into flames. I knew what that fire was. Anger. Pure, unfiltered anger.

  “You mean you’re not selling face masks at school and stealing my business?” I said, my voice faux cheerful.

  “I’m not stealing—”

  “You’re new, so maybe you don’t know how things work around here, but are you aware that you can’t just sell products at school without the principal’s permission?”

  He mumbled something unintelligible. I leaned forward with my hand cupped around my ear. It was a petty action, and I hated it when Samantha did that kind of thing to me, but I did it anyway. “What? I can’t hear you.”

  His cheeks turned pink as I got closer to him. He glanced down at my mouth and then looked away, mumbling, “I said I did get the principal’s permission.”

  My smile faltered. “Oh? Well, do you also have a teacher mentor? Because you can’t run your own business at school without a mentor from the faculty.”

  “Mr. Reyes,” he said. “Mr. Reyes is my mentor. He said I can use the band room to sell.”

  “What?” I blinked fast. It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. “You… you got permission to start your own K-beauty business?”

  “K-pop merch,” Wes said quickly. “It’s different from V&C. Today’s merch just happens to be face masks.”

  “And your last sale just happened to be lip balm?” I asked, my voice rising.

  He paused for a long moment. “People can still buy from both of us?” he said finally, but it came out as a question, uncertain and naive.

  “We’re high school students. You think we grow money trees in our backyard?” I cried. I glanced at the crowd, where I spotted Natalie, Amelia, and Lisa Carol, who had been shopping with me since I first opened, gushing over their new face masks. I turned back to Wes, gritting my teeth. “And it looks like our buyers do overlap, whether you think so or not.”

  I can’t believe this. It took me years to build up my business, and this new guy thinks he can just waltz in here and steal all my customers? Who the hell does he think he is? Does he even know anything about running a business? He looked genuinely upset at how distressed I was, but before he could say anything, Pauline slammed her cash box closed and cried, “That’s it, everybody! We’re all sold out! Thanks for coming.”

  I stiffened. I felt a lump rise in my throat. Shit, was I going to start crying? Now? I had to get out of there. Shouldering past Wes, I ran as fast as I could out of the band room. I heard him call my name, but I didn’t turn back.

  Someone grabbed my arm and I whirled around, tugging my arm away.

  “Hey, hey,” Charlie said. “It’s just me.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I inhaled deeply through my nose, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes to stop the tears from coming. I would not cry at school. I would not.

  “I didn’t want to cut in, but I overheard your conversation with Wes,” Charlie said, putting an arm around me. “And you know what? He’s a dick. But he might be right. Just because he’s starting a business doesn’t mean that it’s the end of ours. People could still buy from both of us, and I bet lots of people won’t even buy from him at all. Not everyone’s a Crown Tiger fan. Besides, we’ve been around for years. This guy sells like two things and suddenly he’s competition? Nah.”

  I said nothing. Could Charlie be right? Maybe I had overreacted. I was too emotional. Samantha wouldn’t have lost her cool like that. She would have been precise and collected, easily accepting that potential competition is just another part of running a business like the mature grown-up she is. I could almost hear Umma’s disapproving voice in my head.

  “Let’s just wait to see how our sales go today,” Charlie said. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  I nodded. O
kay. I could do that. “You’re right.” I smiled feebly. “Thanks. Honestly, I was surprised to see Pauline working with Wes. I didn’t know she was into K-beauty or business stuff.”

  “Same.” He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking. He still hadn’t had a chance to ask Pauline out. Would he get to take his last shot, or was there something going on with her and Wes? “I have calculus with Wes later. I’ll try to see what I can find out about his new business.” He gave my shoulders a tight squeeze before releasing me, replacing his frown with an encouraging smile. “See you later. And remember, keep your chin up!”

  * * *

  The day dragged by. I sat through all my classes, completely listless. Whenever my teachers weren’t looking, I pulled up Instagram under my desk. My feed was infested with photos of my classmates taking selfies with their new Crown Tiger face masks with hashtags like #RoyalStripes and #TakeMyMoney. The photo that I’d posted on V&C’s account had fewer likes than we’d had on anything since sophomore year. Everyone was too busy obsessing over the newest thing. I was falling behind.

  No. I couldn’t let this happen. I had to take Halmeoni to Paris. My mind flashed to the expense sheet in my notebook. I needed every single dollar I could make this year.

  I took a deep breath, tapping my fingers against my desk. I had to stay calm. It was just social media. It wasn’t cold hard facts. The sales would speak for themselves.

  My last period on Monday was free, a strategic move I’d carefully curated my school schedule around. I stood by my locker the whole time, counting down the minutes.

  Three, two, one.

  The bell rang, and customers began to line up, but I could feel the difference in energy. The line was shorter. Kristy only bought one snail mask. Amelia and Natalie didn’t even show, and neither did Lisa.

  By the time the hallways cleared, over a third of my stock was left. Six out of ten snail masks still hung from the laundry clips. They spun around on the hanger in slow motion, creaking back and forth.

  I couldn’t move. I just stared at my locker. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Well, shit,” Charlie said, coming up behind me. “What now?”

  I snapped back to myself. No way was I going down without a fight. I pulled out a grape Hi-Chew from my fanny pack, tearing the wrapper open. “He got his warning and he still wants to play the game. So, fine.” I popped the Hi-Chew into my mouth and turned down the hallway. “We’ll play the game.”

  CHAPTER FOUR WES

  Monday / October 7

  I didn’t mean for it go down this way. Really, I didn’t.

  I called out Valerie’s name as she ran out of the band room, but she didn’t look back. A terrible sinking sensation filled my stomach. I hate when people are mad at me, no matter who it is, and Valerie was definitely furious.

  The students in the band room were buzzing with excited energy, comparing their face masks and snapping photos for their Instagram. Squeals of “I can’t believe we got these half off—and no shipping!” bounced off the walls. I tried to feel happy. My first non-accidental sale had been a success. But I couldn’t get the look on Valerie’s face, right before she ran away, out of my mind. The way the fire in her eyes had dimmed to shock, and how obviously she’d been trying to keep it together. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had offended her personally, beyond a business level.

  Pauline appeared at my side, hugging the cash box to her chest. Her wavy brown bob was pulled back in a headband patterned with starfish, and she wore a blue sailboat-printed dress. I could practically hear ocean waves every time she came near.

  “Congratulations, Wes,” she said with a smile. “We completely sold out.”

  “Congratulations to you, business partner,” I said, smiling back. But my heart wasn’t in it. I cleared my throat, trying not to let my distress show. “Are you sure you don’t want a free face mask? I kept an extra in my locker in case you changed your mind.”

  She shook her head and pointed to her face. There were dry red patches around her eyelids, on her forehead, and in the space between her nose and lips. “Face masks make my eczema flare up. As do most products.” She laughed lightly. “Just boring old dermatologist-recommended face creams for me. Thanks, though.” She cocked her head to the side, appraising me with her curious eyes. “You’re upset about Valerie,” she said.

  “Huh?” I blinked, a sudden blush warming my cheeks. “No. That’s not true.”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” Pauline said simply. “It’s written all over your face.”

  “Well,” I said. It was disarming to be called out so swiftly.

  “It’s all right. She looked pretty angry. You weren’t surprised, though, were you? You must have seen it coming.”

  I bit my lip. Surprised? No, I couldn’t say that I was. But I had also been hoping—foolishly, in hindsight—that things wouldn’t be so bad when I decided to give the sales thing a go. I thought back to Valerie’s confrontation at my locker and how I’d turned to Pauline right after, asking her the question that had launched everything into motion: “What do you know about V&C K-BEAUTY?”

  “V&C?” Pauline had said. She tapped thoughtfully on her chin. “They sell K-beauty products every Monday after school out of Valerie Kwon’s locker. She runs the business with her cousin, Charlie Song. They do quite well for themselves. They’re the only student-run business in our school that’s lasted longer than a year.”

  “Are you friends with them?” I asked. The question came out without me even thinking about it. I was curious about these two students. Students who were my age and had somehow found a way to make a profit at school.

  “Um, not exactly,” she said, an awkwardness in her voice that made me think there was more to the story. “I worked with Charlie on a science project once, but we don’t really run in the same circles anymore.”

  “Cool,” I said, not pushing it. I felt suddenly embarrassed. Pauline and I weren’t even friends. She probably thought I was a total weirdo, interrogating her like this. “Thanks.”

  I shifted on my feet, one last question burning in my mind. Should I ask it? Or should I walk away before Pauline got completely freaked out by my awkwardness and asked for a locker transfer? She stared at me patiently, like she knew I had something more to say.

  “When I don’t ask a question that’s on my mind, I stay up all night thinking about it,” she said. “You may as well ask now.”

  My mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  “I’m a scientist in training. I can spot a question from a mile away. Also, you are very easy to read. Go on.”

  “This is just a hypothetical question,” I said. “But if someone wanted to start a student business, how would they go about it?” I tried to keep my voice casual, even as my heart started pounding in my ears. Was there really a way for me to make money right here at school? From my research, it was going to cost between four and five hundred dollars to get my saxophone repadded. And the application fee for my top-choice school, Toblie School of Music, was a hundred and ten dollars. I would need that money by the December application deadline, and sooner for my saxophone repairs.

  “You’ll have to propose your idea to the principal and get it approved,” Pauline said. “And you’d need a teacher to agree to mentor you. Someone to keep you accountable. You’d also need permission to resell from wherever you’re getting your products if you’re not making them yourself. And of course you’d need something to sell.” She raised her eyebrows. “Do you have something to sell?”

  Did I have something to sell? An excellent question. And also a ludicrous one. I thought of Valerie’s warning and gulped. There’s no room for two of us. It was probably best that I put this out of my mind.

  I went home that day and emailed my resume to a list of potential part-time jobs, including the local music store and the Starbucks closest to my house. I could find another way to make money for music school.

  And then the quartet happened.

&n
bsp; Four people who somehow came together in perfect harmony in the following weeks to resurface the idea in my mind.

  The first: Mom.

  “Wes, I never asked you, how did your friends like the Crown Tiger lip balm?”

  It was the first day of October, two weeks after the accidental lip-balm sale. I sat at the kitchen island with my breakfast avocado, checking my phone for any callbacks from jobs as Mom sipped her smoothie. Nothing yet. I turned off my phone.

  “My friends?” Gulp. “They, uh, loved the lip balm.”

  “Really?” Mom perked up, probably eager to get a read on how the kids at school were responding to her marketing tactics. “They’re big fans?”

  “Yeah. Big fans. They call themselves the Royal Stripes.”

  “Yes! Crown Tiger’s fandom name!” Mom clapped her hands together, pleased as punch. “Well, if your friends like them, I have some more freebies. I’ll be getting a bunch of samples from Crown Tiger’s new face-mask line soon. Why don’t you take them to your friends?”

  I nearly choked on my avocado. “More products?”

  “We’re really focusing on their partnerships with beauty brands.” Mom beamed. “Tell your friends to Instagram them, okay? That’ll be great publicity.”

  Pauline’s question came floating back to my mind. Do you have something to sell? It looked like the answer was yes.

  “I’ll, uh, need a permission slip to distribute stuff at school,” I said, choosing my words carefully. Distribute stuff, sell stuff… same thing, right? “It has to be written in a specific kind of way. Really strict school.” My mouth felt dry like all the words I weren’t saying were cotton balls weighing against my tongue. But Mom didn’t bat an eye.

  “Sure,” she said, already distracted by a message on her phone. “I’ll write you one right now.”

  The second: Mr. Reyes.

  I headed to school after my talk with Mom, making an immediate beeline for the band room to see Mr. Reyes before class began. Okay, so I had something to sell. That didn’t mean I had to sell it. But what if I did? The idea had latched onto my brain and I needed to know if it was a real possibility or not. I could casually talk to Mr. Reyes about mentorship. It didn’t mean I was going to pursue anything, I told myself. I just wanted to know if I could. And if I couldn’t, fine. Great, even. I would peacefully put it out of my mind for good.