Chapter Text
Anton
When I came to this school, I thought it would be different.
America is not a foreign country to me. I grew up between New Jersey and Seoul, always traveling back and forth for my parents' jobs. It was not strange for me to enter a new school, to adapt, to meet people. I got used to constant change. But I never thought this would be the hardest of all.
Because here… here it's different.
I've been here for two weeks now and every day is hell.
Every day I feel like I fit in less and less. In Korea, life was different. I lived surrounded by friends, by family, by a routine that didn't change. Not that my life was perfect, but I never imagined that just being…different, would make me feel so small.
When I arrived in New Jersey, I was excited. A new beginning. The idea of studying here excited me. But no one warned me it would be so difficult.
The people. The simple fact that I have an accent. Everything that seemed normal before, now makes me feel like a stranger. They look at me sideways, ask me questions I don't want to answer, and every time I try to talk, there's something in their gaze that tells me I'm different.
I don't know at what point I became an easy target, but from day one, the stares and whispers were constant. Then came the direct comments. The giggles as I passed in the hallway. The little traps: missing books, “accidental” shoves, jokes behind my back that they didn't bother to dissimulate.
At first, I tried to ignore it. Not to respond. Not give them what they want.
But every day it gets harder.
Today is no exception.
I'm taking some things out of my locker when I hear the giggles behind me.
"Hey, Chinaman, did you get lost on the way back to your country?"
I stop. My shoulders tense. I shouldn't react. I shouldn't show that it affects me.
But it does.
The group of guys in front of me laugh among themselves, as if what they just said was the funniest thing in the world. I know it's not going to end there. It never does.
"You know we speak English here, right?" One of them moves a little closer, looking at me mockingly. "Ah, wait, I'm sure you don't even understand us"
His friends burst out laughing.
"Maybe if we speak slower, he'll understand".
"Or in Chinese?"
"Pff, what if it's not even Chinese? Whatever, they're all the same."
The lump in my throat tightens. I try to ignore them. I try to pull away. But a push on my shoulder makes me stagger.
"Do you hear me or what? Or don't they teach them manners in your country?"
I close my eyes for a second. I breathe.
Don't indulge them, Anton. Don't indulge them.
But they go on.
"What's the matter, are you going to complain?" Are you going to cry?
Clenching your fists doesn't help. Saying anything either. If I do, it only gets worse.
"We should do a favor and buy him a ticket back to wherever he came from. But wait, why don't you ask for it? I'm sure your millionaire daddy can pay for one."
That last one makes my blood boil. Not because they talk about my family, but because to them, my life is just a mockery. They don't know anything about me, but they've already decided I have no right to be here.
I clench my fists inside the pockets of my sweatshirt.
My family.
My life in Korea.
I had friends, I had stability, I had a routine where I didn't have to worry about things like this. Here, instead, everything feels hostile, like every person is waiting for me to fail, like they want to prove that I don't belong here.
Another push, harder this time. I slam against the lockers.
The murmurs increase.
Frustration boils in my blood.
I want to scream at them. I want to ask them what I did to them to make them hate me for no reason. I want to do something.
But I can't.
Because deep down, I know that if I respond, if I fall into their game, everything will be worse.
So I just put my head down and hold on.
Then, something changes.
I see a silhouette walk past us. A dark-haired girl, walking confidently, headphones dangling from her neck.
She says nothing.
But as she walks past one of them, she taps him on the shoulder with intent.
The boy staggers and turns angrily.
"Watch where you're walking, stupid."
The girl stops.
She doesn't react like other people would. She doesn't shrink, she doesn't apologize, she doesn't walk away.
She stares at him, with a cold, defiant expression.
For an instant, the guy looks surprised. As if he doesn't know what to do with someone who is not afraid of him.
She smiles, mockingly.
"Don't you get tired of doing the same thing every day? Or do you have such a pathetic life that you need to annoy others to feel important?"
Silence.
Some of the bully's friends giggle nervously.
Their words float in the air, cutting, direct. The boys are silent for a second, surprised. But they don't give up. One of them takes a step toward her.
"And what are you going to do, huh? Are you going to stop us?"
But she doesn't back down. She raises her head, defiant. Her voice is firm.
"I don't usually waste my time with irrelevant people who are only brave when a few others are paying attention to them, but I'll make an exception for you, get out of here if you don't want me to report you and take away your scholarship, genius boy."
And I... I just stand there, looking at her.
Not because I expect her to help me. Not because I want her to intervene.
But because I don't understand why she did it.
For some reason, her words carry weight. The boys, somewhat bewildered, decide to leave, muttering insults at her as they walk away. She shoots me a quick glance, saying nothing more, and continues on her way, leaving everything in silence.
I stand there, watching her walk away. My mind can't quite process what just happened, why did she do it?
No one stands up for me. No one steps in. No one risks being left in my same position.
But she did it.
I don't understand it.
Emi
My mother's scream wakes me up before the alarm goes off.
"I'm not going to put up with this anymore!"
"Well, if you don't like it, get the hell out!"
The usual.
Shouting. Reproaches. The same insults recycled from previous fights.
I yawn, in no hurry to get up. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore the noise, but it's impossible. It's as if I live in a house with paper walls, and my parents don't make the slightest effort to disguise their mutual hatred.
I sit on the bed, run a hand over my face and take a deep breath. My backpack is on the floor, my clothes from the day before thrown on the chair, and my headphones on the side of the pillow.
It's a routine. Everything is a routine.
My dad and mom have been going through a divorce for over a year. But neither of them have left the house. I don't know if it's because of money, pride, or just making my life miserable. The point is, they're still here. They're still fighting. They keep destroying each other with every word.
It used to hurt. I used to try to fix it.
Now I just let it happen.
I get out of bed and go straight to the bathroom. I wash my face, brush my teeth and my hair. I get dressed without thinking too much about it.
When I leave the room, the fight is still not over.
“You're selfish, you only think about yourself.”
“What about you, you're no saint.”
I don't look at them. I don't talk to them. I just walk straight to the kitchen, get a bottle of water out of the fridge and throw it in my backpack. I hang my headphones around my neck and grab my keys.
“I'm leaving.”
No one answers.
I close the door behind me and let out the air I've been holding.
It's cold outside, but it feels so much better than being inside that house.
I put on my headphones and hit play on the first song on the list. I don't care what it is. Anything is better than listening to my life falling apart every morning.
School is… what it is.
Since I've been here, people have decided to ignore me.
It's not like they directly bother me, but they don't try to talk to me either. They don't invite me to groups, they don't ask me questions, they don't look for me to sit with me in class. It's like I don't exist.
At first, I thought maybe it would do me good to try to fit in.
But then I realized I was better off.
Being invisible has its advantages.
No one messes with you. No one makes demands on you.
You just exist.
And that's enough for me.
I make my way through the crowded corridors. Everyone is in their own world, laughing, talking, organizing plans that I will never be a part of. I don't care.
I adjust my headphones and turn up the volume.
I go straight to the library, my safe place.
The only corner of the school where people don't judge me, because no one bothers to look at anyone here.
I sit down at a table near the window and take out my notebook. I don't have anything urgent to study, but I like to go over random things. Math, history, literature. You name it. It helps me switch off.
A few minutes go by. Maybe an hour.
And then, when I decide to leave, I see him.
The new Asian guy.
I don't even know his name.
We've never spoken. I don't know much about him, just that he arrived a couple of weeks ago and that people treat him like crap.
At first, I thought it was because he's new. Then I realized no, that it's something else.
That it's the same thing they do with me.
Only with him it's worse.
They don't just ignore him. They attack him.
Every damn day.
I stop at the library door, surveying the scene.
A group of kids have him cornered against the lockers. They're the same as always, the typical idiots who need to feel superior to someone so they don't have to face how miserable they really are.
"Hey, Chinaman, did you get lost on the way back to your country?"
He gritted his teeth.
Idiots.
Predictable idiots.
They're pushing him around, taunting him, spouting insults disguised as jokes.
He doesn't respond. He just puts his head down and holds on.
And for some reason, that makes me angry.
I approach without thinking too much, my eyes fixed straight ahead. I walk right past them and, instead of asking permission, I give the one closest to me a sharp tap on the shoulder.
Not hard enough to knock him over, but hard enough to make him stagger.
The guy turns around immediately, furious.
“Watch where you're walking, stupid.”
The group stops, looking surprised. I don't know if it's because they saw me as a threat, or because they never expected anyone to intervene, but there they are, quiet for a second. One of them approaches, defiantly, and throws a comment at me.
I look up and look him straight in the eye.
I don't react. I don't get upset.
I just watch him.
And he expects me to say something, to apologize, to be intimidated.
But I don't.
I fold my arms and smile superiorly.
"Don't you guys get tired of doing the same thing every day? Or is it that you have such a pathetic life that you need to screw with others to feel important?"
A couple of his friends let out nervous chuckles. He remains silent.
The group stops, looking surprised. I don't know if it's because they saw me as a threat, or because they never expected anyone to intervene, but there they are, quiet for a second. One of them approaches, defiantly, and throws a comment at me.
"So what are you going to do, huh? Are you going to stop us?"
My heart beats fast, but I don't back down. I don't care what they think. Sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if it's not popular.
“I don't usually waste my time with irrelevant people who are only brave when a few others are paying attention to them, but I'll make an exception for you, get out of here if you don't want me to report you and take away your scholarship, genius boy.”
And at that moment, I notice something.
The new guy is looking at me.
But not with gratitude.
Not with relief.
But with confusion.
Like he can't understand why someone got into this for him.
And that... bothers me more than it should.
When they leave, silence surrounds me. I look at him for a second longer and continue on my way, as if nothing happened. But, deep down, something inside me has changed, even if I don't know it yet.
I'm not doing it for him.
I'm not doing it because I care.
But something tells me that, after today, maybe nothing will be the same.
Anton
The walk home feels eternal.
Not because the distance is unbearable, but because with every step, my chest gets tighter.
I pull on the hood of my sweatshirt and lower my gaze to the ground. I try to ignore the murmur of students around me, the laughter in the background, the groups walking together as if the world were simple and they didn't have to carry the weight of being different.
I had never felt what it was like to be different.
Never.
Not in Korea, not in New Jersey when I lived here as a kid. I always fit in. I never had to worry about being “the other.”
But here…here I'm reminded of it every day.
I clench my fists in my sweatshirt pockets.
Today was another shitty day.
I try to tell myself that I don't care. That in a couple of years I'll be graduated, that none of this will matter.
But it does matter to me.
I've only been at this school for two weeks, and already it's become clear to me that I don't belong.
Before I know it, I'm standing outside my front door. From the outside, everything looks perfect: It's big, elegant, in one of the best areas of the neighborhood. We lack nothing. We've always lived well, with no material worries.
But right now, all that means nothing.
I open the door and the aroma of home-cooked food greets me.
Inside, my mother is already serving the meal, and my father is sitting at the table, checking his phone before setting it aside.
It's a perfect scene.
And I don't fit in.
“Anton, you're just in time,” my mother says with a warm smile.
I do my best to return her half-smile and sit down at the table.
The aroma of the food is delicious, but I'm not hungry.
“How was school?” asks my father with that tone that leaves no room for empty answers.
I want to tell him the truth.
That I was called Chinese at least three times today, even though I've already made it clear that I'm Korean.
That they pushed my things on the floor in the library when I walked past them.
That they told me I should "go back to where I belong."
But instead, I just say:
"Okay. Lots to do."
I pick up my chopsticks and stir the rice on my plate with no real intention of eating.
My parents look at each other, as if they don't quite believe me.
“I found a swim school for you to continue your training today,” my mother says suddenly, with a smile full of anticipation. "It's an excellent program. You can pick it up as soon as possible."
The air catches in my throat.
Swimming.
For years, water was my refuge. When I was in a rough patch, swimming helped me clear my head.
But now…now I feel like none of that matters.
My mother keeps talking, mentioning the hours, the proximity, the facilities. My father nods approvingly.
“You can't give up what you love,” my father says in his serious tone. "Swimming, music…you've been playing bass, piano, guitar for years. You can't give up just because we're in another country."
My fingers tighten around the chopsticks.
“What if I don't want to do any of that anymore?”
Silence falls over the table.
My mother blinks, surprised.
"Anton… That doesn't make sense. You love swimming. And music-you've been playing bass, piano, guitar for years. You can't just…"
"Why not?"
My voice rises, louder than I expected.
I look up and find my mother's eyes full of concern. And at the same time, I feel something inside me snap.
"Son, I know the move was hard, but you just need time to adjust. The school is new, the language…"
"It's not the language!"
I jump to my feet, the chair squeaking against the floor.
My chest rises and falls hard.
"It's everything, okay? It's this school, this city, this fucking feeling that everyone sees me like I'm a fucking weirdo. Did you know that today they told me to go back to my country? That I don't belong here?"
My mother's face tightens. My father frowns.
“Chanyoung…”
"I don't want to swim! I don't want to play music! I don't want any of this! I want to go home!"
My voice breaks at last.
And I hate that.
I hate that I sound like I'm begging.
I hate that my parents look at me with concern, like I'm a little kid having a tantrum.
I hate feeling that way.
Without waiting for a response, I turn around and walk to my room, closing the door tighter than necessary.
My breathing is erratic.
I want to scream.
I want to break something.
But instead, I drop onto the bed and cover my face with my hands.
This was all meant to be different.
I thought this move would be a new beginning.
That I would make friends.
That school would be a new beginning.
Before I know it, the black-haired girl comes back into my thoughts. I don't understand why she did it. She doesn't owe me anything, she doesn't even know me..... but she jumped in for me without hesitation. In my mind, I see her again, with that expression of utter indifference. Did she do it because she felt sorry for me? Because she was really bothered by what they said? I don't know, and I don't know why I care either.
Now I just want to disappear.
And worst of all, I don't know how much longer I can take it.