Chapter Text
My heart is pounding.
To be fair, that’s what a normally functioning heart is supposed to do, but I feel like right now my heart is about to burst right out of my chest and splatter into a spectacular display of blood and guts on the floor.
Can’t say I won’t have seen that one coming.
For I, Iris Hwang, am a liar.
In my defense, I panicked. Also in my defense, the three girls whose company I’ve been trying to avoid all of winter break and pretty much for the rest of my life just also happen to be the same girls I’ve been trying to impress since they let me into their fold and then kicked me out. Perhaps impress isn’t the word I’m looking for. It’s not like I want back into their good graces, not after The Incident from second year. I just want to not feel like such a loser. I just want to prove to them that I don’t need them. I’m better off without them. Is that so bad?
And so, on the first day back as we gather around for the morning before first period, instead of the truth, I’ve concocted some lie about my whereabouts and the company I’ve kept.
Let be it stated on record that for the whole of winter break, I stayed at home playing video games, editing and mastering videos for my Let’s Play channel, helped out my parents at the curry restaurant, and stayed in reading romance novels and shoujo manga during the rest of my free time.
But, no. That’s not nearly as impressive. Or vindictive.
Naturally, with all that time and all that media I've consumed and at my disposal, I made up a life. I made up boyfriend. Little things I can explain away when asked. Little things that are plausible in their vagueness. It’s not like I can suddenly say I’ve become a model or an idol or an actress. But I did say I’ve landed myself a secret boyfriend that I can’t talk about because of reasons—some bought the idea others weren’t as convinced. But it’s enough to annoy these girls and rebuild the mess that’s become my name. Enough to remind them that for me, this war isn’t over.
I’ve covered all my bases, made up tweets and Instagram posts about how my life was better off without them. I know they’re watching because that’s what they do. They keep tabs on people, and it used to be me who did the dirty work for them. So I came up with the best life I can live without them.
Because when faced with the world I once was a part of—the inside, the glittering company of the girls you either want to be friends with or despise with alacrity, the kind of girls guys want to date, the kind of girls whose attention is all that matters, I can only think of one thing. Now that I’m on the outside looking in and feeling like we’ve never even been friends to begin with: Did they even want me at all?
Perhaps not, after what they did. But then again, no one cares about what happened anymore. After all, it doesn’t matter I suppose. But these looks of pity? Of disdain? They matter to me. Once I was Iris on the Inside. Now, I’m just on the fringes of the social hierarchy, one incident my downfall. But they will want me again. And when they come to me, that’s when I will reject them.
But I need to survive this day first.
I used to feel invincible because of these girls I used to call friends, but now I try to sink into the spaces in between our other classmates and disappear into the crowd faceless. Be Invisible Iris. I feel the wash of shame on my face, the heat creeping up unbidden. My lies bear down on me, held up only by petty rage. So now I sit here in my corner of the room, waiting. Just waiting for something to happen because I just know something will. Disaster is always at the wake of audacity. I know what I’ve done. I’ve heard the whispers. They’re still talking about me, but this time it’s different. I’m no longer the victim. But what I've learned is this: just because it's good now, doesn’t mean it will stay that way.
“You know, I never noticed how handsome the captain of the baseball team is,” Byul says, twirling her hair around her fingers. They’re seated together in the middle of the room, always the centre of attention. I sat by the window, staring out and watching students file into the campus grounds.
She’s talking about Sungjin Park. Class president, honour-roll student, perpetually late, Sungjin Park who is also captain of the baseball team. That Sungjin Park. The same guy who comes to the curry restaurant every other weekend and orders our specialty spice level 10 curry meal. I spot him on the grounds, chatting with the other members of the baseball team. Hard not to find him, not since he shaved his head, giving him a sharp look that makes him even scarier than usual.
Except, everybody loves Sungjin. Everybody. We’ve never been in the same class before this year, but I always hear someone talking about him. There’s always someone new, boys and girls, gushing about their newfound adoration of him. Every day feels like another day someone discovers something about him one can’t help but love. Of the entire team and despite being the team captain, he’s always the last people notice. But when they do they can’t look away anymore. As if he’s earned that attention and intends to keep it.
A group of girls walk up to him once he’s separated from the team. Two of them push one girl forward, and she hands him a well-wrapped box. Sungjin’s head tilts to the side, then he runs his hand over the top of his head. He says something. The girl backs away with her gift, and Sungjin walks away.
Hana laughs, ear-piercingly shrill. “He always gets, like, a bunch of letters and stuff in his locker every day. Like, when he opens his locker, letters and gifts come pouring out like a landslide. I didn’t see the appeal until they started winning. Honestly, they’re saying we have a chance at nationals?”
It’s really the only reason they’re paying attention to him now. Because he lead last year’s team all the way to the division semi-finals. Not that I know anything about baseball. Or sports in general. Unless it’s e-sports. But I also shouldn’t know anything about that. At least not out loud.
“As if you even knew we had a baseball team.” That’s Haneul, the leader of this little group. I looked up to her. Because she’s pretty. Because she gets good grades. Because she comes from a good family. Because she likes paying for things for her friends. “The only sport you know is shopping.”
There’s a beat of silence, then more laughter. I used to laugh with them, and I loved the way the others looked on with envy. Then my stomach turns, remembering when that laughter was once directed at me.
“As if you know anything about baseball,” Hana continues. “The only time you attend any sports-related event is when Matthew is playing or if he’ll be there.”
Everyone knows Haneul has a thing for the basketball team captain Matthew Kim. It’s not really a secret. Haneul is incapable of keeping it a secret, what with the way she keeps orchestrating run-ins with him. We spent an entire weekend stalking his Instagram just so we know where to accidentally run into him in a totally not contrived manner at all.
“He’s nice, though,” Haneul adds, flipping her long, curled hair over her shoulder. “I talked to him a bit over the break. Sungjin Park, captain of the baseball team. He's literally like a prince.”
“Isn’t he scary?” asks the fourth girl in this group. My replacement. The one they get to boss around for being less. “I heard he’s really strict with the team. I also hear other girls say he’s always rejecting them.”
Hana narrows her eyes at their newest pet. “Oh, you. Poor Jiyeon. You wouldn’t understand.”
This used to be me, they used to say that to me, too. Poor Iris, you don’t understand. Poor Iris, you’ll figure it out eventually. I never realized until the veil of glamor was lifted and I can see these people for what they truly are.
“He's not scary at all. He’s a man of action,” Haneul says, eyes darting around in search. “He didn’t say it, but you know, I really think we had a moment. I really think he was just holding back, but I just know it. There was definitely something fateful there.”
“He hasn’t been rejecting all those girls for nothing,” Byul goes on, casually, “I mean, of course he’s holding out for the one girl who won’t be chasing after him.”
“When did you go out?” asks the poor thing. “I don’t remember you telling us about that?”
Haneul bristles, her face twitching into the mousiness she tries to hide with curtain bangs and bright pink lips. “Because some things are…private. But I'm telling you, I could tell with the way he looks at me. He wants more.”
I roll my eyes and snort.
Hana sees me, of course. Her eyes home in on me and fill with a delight that drowns me with dread. “Oh god, I thought we got rid of all the pests in this school. Really, Iris. You’re not welcome here anymore, stop trying to fit in with us.”
“I’m really not,” I mutter under my breath. It’s not my fault we’re in the same grade and in the same class, and thus in the same room. I can’t wait for the warning bell to ring so Byul, Hana, and Jiyeon will have no choice but leave for their respective classrooms.
“Oh, it’s you Iris. You’re still here.”
Ugh. Haneul was just…awful.
“I really thought we got rid of her,” Hana adds. “What’s the matter, no one wants to be your friend? Begging to be one of us again?” She always did have a way with words, making them sting like icicles. "Oh, wait, I forgot. You've been so busy this past break. So busy."
“Really, Iris, don’t you have other friends?” Haneul says, “People you can go to, I don’t know, museums and galleries and walk in parks with. Where are they now? Oh, right, you can't really talk about them.”
Exactly what it’s like on my social media feed. All of it true, from a certain point of view. I did go to these places. Allegedly with my boyfriend. If they’re trying to break me, they will fail.
I look away.
“Or did they not want you anymore. They,” Hana laughed. “Him, right? Who was it again?”
“Whatever,” Byul says to the group, the tone in her voice crawling all over my skin. Like fire ants. Three of them smirking at me, looking at me like vermin. A fourth face, not quite sure yet what to do, but eager to please just the same. “She doesn’t matter anyway. Nobody wants her. It’s kinda sad, really. Pitiful. Inferior Iris, at it again.”
Nobody wants me. I am of no consequence. Inferior Iris, Imperfect Iris, Iris with the Incident. I know this. I’ve listed all my flaws, owned my plainness, and stopped wanting the impossible. But Iris has had enough. Later maybe I can get to analyse this situation and justify what I’m about to do. Maybe later, I can even laugh at this and dismiss it as my juvenile and addled brain at it again. Maybe I can even say, one day for sure, that it’s because I know what it’s like to have had and lost, and it’s that devastating loss that’s done me in. In any case, the lies I’ve told came almost so naturally, even I will have believed it.
And with that, I snap.
I stand up and step closer to them, shoulders back and my spine straight. I meet Haneul’s eyes. This girl I once thought of as dearest friend, she’s nothing to me now. I want her to feel the same embarrassment as she made me feel. To feel like I won something and she lost. I want to make her hurt. “I don’t want to be your friend. The best thing that’s happened in my life is that I got out of your circle.”
Byul laughs. “Excuse me, you didn’t walk out. We threw you out.”
They treated me like trash. But I’ll show them who’s trash.
Hana doesn’t even look at me, she’s too busy dusting off the imaginary dust on her skirt. “We didn’t want you anymore, so we got rid of you. So easy.”
Haneul lifts her chin, her perfect hair and her perfect face catch the light. “Don’t be surprised if no one wants you ever again. Or that no one wants you at all now. Honestly, who are you trying to fool?”
“He doesn’t want you,” I say, feeling the anger cool into a liquid fire in my veins. Vaguely, I’m aware that the rest of the class is looking at us, listening intently.
“What are you talking about?” Haneul replies, striking me with a glare that’s absolutely vicious. Then she laughs. Brightly. “What are you going on about now?”
The words come out without hesitation, without any sense of stopping. They come out as easy as my fingers know their way around a controller. “Sungjin. He doesn’t want you.”
She scoffs. Then she asks, condescension dripping in every word. “And why not?”
Anger is easy to blame. There must be a reason why the lie that I started innocuously has become so big, it’s eclipsed the sun.
“Sungjin doesn’t want you,” I say, even when I know I should stop the words before it becomes too late to take them back. And yet, I go on. These words have become unstoppable. “Because he wants me. Sungjin is mine.”