Chapter Text
Yoonchae grimaced as the girls swarmed her, all pretty, blonde, and popular. She hated this. She had been doing just fine in dance P.E., an option she hadn’t even been aware of before being placed there.
When her father told her they would be moving to America, the first thing she and her group of friends did was pick out the most popular movies that took place in American high schools. All her friends giggled and gasped at the excessive amount of making out and alcohol consumed. They teased her, half-joking that she’d have a football boyfriend by the end of the week, while the others hoped she’d fall for the cute, nerdy guy.
Yoonchae wanted neither.
She wanted to be someone like Elle Woods — someone who, sure, started out doing everything for a man, but eventually became a headstrong woman who prioritized her studies and stopped caring about relationships and men altogether.
That’s what Yoonchae wanted. And for a while, she had it.
She was top of her class in math, science, and to her own surprise, English too. No one knew about this, of course. No one cared about the top of the class — they cared about who slept with who, who was dating who, and how many “bodies” someone had under their belt. It had taken her a long time to realize that didn’t mean how many murders they’d committed.
She wasn’t popular.
She had her friends: a half-Japanese girl who always wore tights with dog breeds on them, both in dance class and out of it, and an awkward white girl with braces and glasses as thick as her thumb. It was clear from the beginning that this dance P.E. class wasn’t anything like the dance classes she was used to. Back home, her mom had finally given in to her begging and enrolled her in a proper dance academy when Yoonchae decided she wanted to become a K-pop idol. This class, however, seemed to be meant for students who were too unathletic for normal P.E., only slightly above the social suicide podium that the JROTC kids were placed at the bottom of.
No one knew who she was, and she was grateful for it.
Juria and Ashley were always supportive, never complaining when Yoonchae canceled plans because she was busy with homework — which was all the time.
That was, until her mother fell into the clutches of the white ladies at the country club she had started going to after getting bored of being a simple housewife. They sank their claws into her mother’s mind, filling it with ideas that if Yoonchae became a cheerleader, she’d gain tons of friends, just like their daughters, Tim and Tam or whatever the hell their names were.
Yoonchae hadn’t cared.
She had been happy with her life. But now here she was, staring at the paper taped to the locker room door, her name ninth on the list of new varsity cheerleaders — one of only three freshmen who had made the team.
“O-M-G! Yoonchae, I’m so glad you made the team! The coach was whining about diversity, and now we have a Korean here with us!” Katherine exclaimed.
Yoonchae nodded, smiling in the way her mom hated, her front teeth awkwardly exposed.
“Yes! Now you don’t have to be stuck in that smelly little dance room with all those weirdos,” another girl chimed in.
“Ew, she was in dance P.E.? I heard that lesbo Megan was in that class, so I made sure I avoided it like the plague.”
“No way — she was in a class with Megan?! Yoonchae, how did you survive that?”
Yoonchae shrugged.
She had no idea who Megan was.
She had never seen or heard of the girl before. Her classmates hardly ever mingled with one another — at least not with her. Juria and Ashley never gossiped either, so Megan was a complete nobody in Yoonchae’s eyes.
She seemed popular, though, judging by their reactions. Perhaps this was someone Yoonchae should expect to befriend.
“Anyway, I heard Josh Rossi has an eye on you,” a black girl — Sarah, she thought — nudged her.
The chatter continued until the coach finally shooed them out of the locker room. Yoonchae was the first to grab her bag and rush out. The school gate was just within reach when a hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her back slightly.
She turned to see a girl with plump, glossy lips, bangs, and glasses grinning widely at her. They were around the same height, and Yoonchae wondered why the girl was stopping her now when she hadn’t initiated conversation once during tryouts.
“Hi! I’m Sophia!” the girl said, stretching her hand out and waiting patiently for Yoonchae to shake it.
“Um… hi?”
“Oh! Right — sorry, you don’t know me. I was in your group during drills yesterday. I’m the sophomore who’s friends with Dani.”
Yoonchae paused, racking her brain for any recollection of the girl. Daniela was a familiar name — a returning varsity member whose position as a flyer and occasional tumbler made her someone worth observing. Sophia, on the other hand, didn’t ring a bell.
“Oh! Yes, yes, I remember now!” she lied.
Sophia’s face brightened.
“Well, anyway — I saw them all crowding you in there, so I didn’t want to overwhelm you even more. They can be a lot to deal with. If you ever need someone to talk to… well, I’m here. I’m new to this team too — not to cheerleading, but to this team — so maybe we can stick together.”
“I’d really like that, actually.”
***
Yoonchae placed her books into her bag and walked out of the classroom just as the bell rang, her timing perfect. She was first at many things: first to leave class, first to get lunch, first in all her subjects, and to her own disdain, first on the list of the most “crackable” girls in school.
She huffed as a boy rushed up beside her.
Josh.
It had been two years since she arrived in America — two years in which she had climbed the ranks of the school’s social hierarchy, surpassing Katie, the cheer captain at the time, within her first week on the team. Now she was a junior, co-captain of the squad alongside Dani and Sophia.
Their predominantly white school seemed to love a bit of flavor.
Rising in the ranks came with reputations and rumors attached to names. Dani’s were centered around her “Latina mami” nickname, her ditzy demeanor, and the three boyfriends she’d had over the years. Every day, a new boy claimed he’d slept with her, and people believed them all.
Sophia was the school’s princess — kind to most, her smile always bright, yet strangely untouchable. No long-term boyfriend, barely drank at parties. Rumor had it she was engaged to some rich Filipino guy back home.
Yoonchae, on the other hand, had earned the title of “Ice Queen.” Maybe it was her expressionless face, or the fact that her sarcastic comments were taken far too literally. Sophia said it was her tone. Even though Yoonchae excelled in English, her accent still slipped through at times, and people mistook her fully sarcastic remarks for genuine cruelty.
She made no effort to change. It kept people at a distance.
Josh, however, hadn’t gotten the memo.
Someone she despised. Someone she regretted.
The pressure of suddenly being known had pushed her into his arms — fake smiles, a stolen first kiss, and weeks of her life wasted on a boy she had no interest in. He was attractive, she’d admit that much. It had made pretending easy at first.
Sophia and Dani had known it was a farce. Everyone else ate it up.
Then she noticed things: his smile was too practiced, his laugh too fake, his body too hard. There was no softness to him at all. And when he realized she was losing interest, he cheated.
He thought it would make her want him more. Instead, it freed her.
The students of Dream Academy still clung to the hope that they’d reunite, feeding Josh’s delusions by interpreting Yoonchae’s single status as heartbreak.
She stepped closer, gripping the back of his neck and whispering into his ear.
“If you don’t want rumors going around about your dick being the size of my pinky, you’ll leave me the fuck alone.”
Josh froze as murmurs spread through the hall.
Yoonchae didn’t spare him another glance. She stepped past him and into the cafeteria, spotting Sophia immediately.
Their usual table sat near the center of the room. Sophia was alone, legs crossed on the bench as she shoveled rice into her mouth with little concern for how she looked doing it. Yoonchae smiled faintly as she approached.
The Korean dropped into the seat across from her just as Sophia slid a small container toward her.
Yoonchae frowned but took it anyway. Inside was stew — Daniela’s favorite.
They always did this. Sophia would eat first while Daniela talked, then once Sophia was full, she’d pass whatever leftovers she had to Dani along with another container of food. The Filipino would talk, the Latina would eat, and Yoonchae would listen. She never spoke much during lunch. She didn’t need to.
But Daniela wasn’t there.
That was new.
Yoonchae didn’t comment on it. She ate quietly beside Sophia, though she noticed the older girl’s leg bouncing faster than usual, her gaze drifting around the cafeteria as if waiting for someone to appear. It was clear she was worried, but Yoonchae knew better than to ask. Sophia would speak when she was ready — if ever.
Time ticked by.
Yoonchae checked her phone. Ten minutes left of lunch.
“Guys, guys, guys!”
Speak of the devil.
Daniela barreled through the cafeteria, curly hair frizzed out and eyes bright. Students dodged her path as she skidded to a stop at their table, slamming a crumpled piece of paper down between them.
“So — you know how I played drums when I was younger?” she asked, breathless.
Sophia and Yoonchae nodded.
When Daniela had been diagnosed with ADHD, her mom had spent hours researching ways to help her channel her energy. Dance classes, drumming lessons — anything that might keep her occupied long enough to focus.
“Well, check this out!”
Daniela flattened the paper. It was a flyer: a black background with the name Pink Eye splashed across it in large, dripping letters, hot pink against the dark. Underneath, in smaller print, it read:
DRUM AUDITIONS — TUESDAY, DURING LUNCH
“So you… joined a band?” Sophia asked.
“Yep!”
“I’ve never heard of them,” Yoonchae said.
“They’re new. Well — kind of.” Daniela shrugged. “They’ve played a few gigs, but their old drummer overdosed, so they had to take a break.”
Yoonchae blinked. “You joined a band of druggies?”
“No! God, no — Chae.” Daniela waved her hands frantically. “It’s just… the people in the band are Lara, Megan, and Manon.”
Oh.
Them.
While their small town had become less openly homophobic over the years — taking its time to catch up with the rest of the country — there were still very few people who were out.
Those three were the exception.
Manon was mostly a mystery to Yoonchae. A senior, like Dani and Sophia, cool and untouchable in a way that made people hesitant to approach her. Lara and Megan, though, she’d heard of.
Lara had been the first to come out in town during middle school, and had stayed anyway, surrounded by the other queer kids who followed after her, which really weren’t many. She was pretty — rich brown skin, sharp eyes, gold jewelry always adorning her body like armor.
Megan, on the other hand, was someone Yoonchae only knew by reputation.
While helping stressed teachers grade papers, Megan Skiendel was a name Yoonchae heard often — usually followed by sighs and warnings not to bother. Her grades were consistently underwhelming, never above a fifty. Teachers complained about how loud she was, how disruptive, how careless.
Yet none of them ever asked her why.
Perhaps she really was a lost cause.
“Manon? Bannerman?” Sophia asked.
They locked eyes, the hazel-eyed girl nodding slightly.
“I mean… yeah, she’s, uh, cool, you know.”
“Really now?” Sophia’s eyebrow quirked, the tension between them thickening.
“Are you sure you want to go through with it?”
“What?” Dani asked, her gaze shifting from her best friend’s displeased expression to Yoonchae.
“I mean… yeah, the town’s come far, but when I first got here, all the team talked about was how gay they were. People may not talk about them as much now, but two years isn’t that long for everyone to suddenly turn over a new leaf. So — are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Daniela’s finger tapping grew more insistent. Yoonchae watched quietly, giving her space to think as the clock ticked down, already discreetly reaching for her bag.
“Would you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Would you still support me? If I join the band, I mean. I already auditioned and got the role, but would you stick with me despite the… accusations I might get?”
The question sounded reasonable, but the weight behind her eyes made the real meaning clear.
Would you judge me if I’m gay?
With just two minutes left of lunch, Yoonchae let her mind wander. Was she homophobic?
Back home — before America — she’d never really thought about gay people at all. She remembered a friend, a girl who spent most of her afternoons glued to Discord, texting her online girlfriend. Yoonchae had never commented on it, never second-guessed it.
So she supposed she wasn’t.
It was only after she arrived here, after she fell into the school’s social hierarchy, that people had labeled her as such — mostly because of the history surrounding the team.
Juria had made comments too, casually pointing out girls from their dance class and calling them hot. Ashley would complain about how Juria only ever talked about girls.
Yoonchae’s focus snapped back to the present, Dani still fidgeting anxiously in front of her.
The Korean smiled — not wide or overly bright, just small, warm, and sincere.
“Even if you straightened and dyed your hair blue and became a barista at some random coffee shop,” she said, “I’d still support you. All the way.”
Daniela brightened instantly. From the corner of her eye, Yoonchae noticed Sophia’s rigid posture finally relax.
How interesting.
***
“Come on, ladies! Get those pom-poms in the air! Now — one, two! One, two!” Coach Simmons yelled.
Yoonchae, Sophia, and Daniela stood at the front. As captains, they drew the most attention — which meant being perfect at all times.
They threw their arms up, voices loud as they chanted.
By the end of practice, Yoonchae’s forehead glistened with sweat, strands of hair sticking to her skin. She trudged behind the others into the locker room, sighing in relief as cold water from the sinks splashed her face.
“Ready to go?” Sophia asked, towel wrapped around her shoulders as she dried her hair beside Yoonchae, who had just started changing.
“Yeah. Where’d Dani go?”
“Oh, she left already. Said she had some stuff to shove in her trunk.” Sophia shrugged.
The Filipina waited while the Korean finished applying a touch of blush to her cheeks, then they walked out together, ignoring a few teammates who lingered nearby, clearly hoping to tag along.
In the parking lot, Dani’s red Mustang gleamed under the sun, Daniela leaning against it, chest heaving from exertion.
“Hey! I forgot to tell you, but I can’t drop you off at your houses since I ha—”
Yoonchae shoved her.
“Get in the car. Now.”
The trio scrambled inside, panic written across their faces. Dani didn’t hesitate, flooring it as the tires screeched against the pavement. As the car sped off, a lone figure remained behind — a boy with perfectly styled hair and hands that clearly had never washed a dish in his life, raised as if reaching for them.
“Dude, what the fuck,” Sophia yelled once the panic settled. “I thought some murderer was chasing us!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Yoonchae said, scratching the back of her neck. “I saw him running toward us and panicked.”
When Dani turned onto a street they didn’t recognize, Yoonchae subtly nudged Sophia.
“So… this is definitely the wrong street,” Sophia said.
Yoonchae face-palmed.
“I’m well aware, princess.”
Dani pulled into a driveway. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to tell you that I can’t take you home because I have band practice.”
Oh.
Stepping out of the car, Yoonchae noticed the mailbox by the curb — splattered with small handprints and a homemade, clearly rushed Skiendel scrawled across it in messy lettering.
So this was Megan’s house.
Ignoring the deflated inflatable pool, several baby toys, and various soccer balls scattered across the yard, Daniela walked up and knocked on the door.
There was a crash inside, followed by someone yelling, “Someone get the door!” A minute later, it swung open to reveal a young boy.
He glanced at them, eyes dropping to their school bags.
“Sorry, we don’t house the homeless.”
Then he slammed the door shut.
The three of them froze, awkward silence settling over them. Daniela pulled out her phone, ready to text Megan, when the door opened again.
“Sorry about that! Zhao, how many times have I told you not to do that?” a woman yelled, hair messy, apron tied around her waist, breathless.
She turned back to them and faltered.
“Oh — how may I help you, ladies?”
“I’m— well, we’re here to see Megan,” Dani said. “For the band.”
“Mei Mei? You’re here to see Mei Mei?” the woman — Megan’s mother — asked, eyes immediately welling with tears. Yoonchae grimaced, unaccustomed to that much emotion all at once.
“Sylvia, if you keep crying every time she brings someone over, they’re not going to want to come back,” a man said gently, appearing behind her with a toddler balanced on his hip.
“You’re right,” she sniffed. “Come on, girls. I’ll take you to the basement.”
Inside was somehow worse than the outside.
Zhao and another boy with ginger hair sat at the dining table, surrounded by ripped newspapers and a half-finished volcano project. In the corner of the living room, curled up on a bed and snoring loudly, was a pig.
Sophia gasped, hands flying to her mouth.
As they moved down the hallway, past several closed doors, they reached the last one — scratched and worn. When it opened, the thrum of bass hit them immediately, along with the sharp, sugary stench of old energy drinks.
“Well, this is it. It’s soundproof, so if you need anything at all, you’re more than welcome to just come upstairs and grab whatever you need. Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”
“Good luck,” Megan’s dad added, grimacing slightly.
Walking down the few steps revealed a large, open area, with a washing machine and dryer shoved into one corner. The floor was littered with Red Bull, Monster, and Arizona cans. On an old, rickety couch sat Megan, plucking at her guitar. Manon occupied a chair, strumming her bass, while Lara sat beside the tallest member of their band, one leg crossed over the other as she hummed and tapped her pen against her notebook.
The band hadn’t noticed the trio yet, giving Yoonchae a moment to look around.
A few band posters were taped haphazardly along the walls, and at the center — just behind their setup — hung a photo of a woman in a bikini, lying on her side, large breasts nearly spilling out of her too-small top.
Yoonchae looked away quickly, face heating up, and accidentally kicked an empty can.
The clatter made Megan glance up — and catch her staring.
Wow.
Yoonchae hadn’t worn her contacts today. Megan’s figure was slightly blurry, but even so, she could tell the guitarist was attractive.
At the realization, the Korean’s face burned even redder.
“Oh! You brought guests,” Megan said, standing.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Daniela said with a sheepish smile.
“No, no — it’s fine. Um, we can make this work. Having an audience during practice is so punk rock.”
“You know,” Lara chimed in, “just because you keep saying that doesn’t make it any less cringey.”
“Fuck off,” Megan replied, flipping her off. “Throw me that roll, will you?”
Lara stood, reaching into a small basket and tossing a roll of trash bags at Megan — which promptly smacked her in the back of the head. Manon burst out laughing, the trio of cheerleaders grinning at the Swiss girl’s dolphin-like chuckle.
“Ow!”
“What? You said throw it!”
Megan huffed, ripping a bag free and struggling to open it before sweeping the leftover cans inside. Manon moved as well, grabbing a folded piece of black cloth from the same basket and tossing it over the couch.
She then walked over to the trio and offered her arm to Sophia.
“M’lady.” Manon bowed dramatically.
Sophia glanced at the curly-haired girl beside her, whose jaw tightened but who stayed silent. Carefully taking Manon’s arm, Sophia allowed herself to be escorted the short distance to the couch.
A tap landed on Yoonchae’s shoulder.
She turned to find Megan beside her, hand extended in invitation.
She could see her clearly now.
Megan’s eyes were large in a way that felt almost dangerous, deep chocolate brown and framed by thick black eyeliner and dark eyeshadow. Her nose was sharp yet soft at the same time, lips full and pink, her jaw defined, neck long, throat bobbing when she swallowed. Her bangs rested just above her eyes, choppy and messy in a way that framed her face perfectly, pink highlights standing out against her dark hair and clothes.
She smelled like cherries.
Bracelets jingled softly around her wrists. Her arms were slender, her body lean but strong — not lanky — with hands calloused from guitar strings. Hands that clearly had history.
Yoonchae had the sudden, terrifying urge to run her fingers over them, just to feel the roughness.
Wait. What?
Her ears were burning now — she could feel it — so she schooled her expression, smacked Megan’s hand away, and rushed to the couch, dropping down beside Sophia.
Daniela, Manon, Lara, and Megan were left standing.
“Ooookay,” Lara said slowly. “Did you bring your drum kit?”
“Yeah!”
“Cool. We’ll help you bring it down.” Lara smiled, running her hand lightly up Daniela’s arm before nudging her toward the stairs.
Manon’s eyes narrowed.
“I know what you’re doing,” she muttered into Lara’s ear as they climbed the steps.
“Not sure what you mean,” Lara replied, turning just enough to flash a smug smile.
Bringing in Dani’s set was easy with the four of them. Manon took the largest piece — the bass drum — easily the strongest of the group. Megan carried the floor tom, Lara grabbed the snare, and Dani balanced her mid and high toms stacked together.
On their second trip, heading back up for the stands and cymbals, Yoonchae heard the door open again. Two heads rushed down the stairs.
Her eyebrow lifted as Zhao and his ginger-haired friend stopped on the last step, staring.
The redhead’s face was bright red.
“Can we help you?” Yoonchae asked, her tone sharper than she intended.
The boy jumped, then popped his collar and strutted over, a sway in his step.
“You actually can,” he said, dropping into the chair Manon had been sitting in earlier. “What are you beautiful girls doing down here with my loser sister when you could be upstairs hanging out with me instead?”
He leaned back, arms folded behind his head — only succeeding in revealing the sweat stains under his armpits.
Yoonchae and Sophia exchanged a look before bursting out laughing, loud and unrestrained.
“You’re, like, ten,” Yoonchae said. “You smell like sweat, you have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe, and there’s a booger actively threatening to escape your nose. How are you even breathing with that thing in there?”
The boy flushed.
Before he could respond, the door opened again, the band’s voices flooding the room. Megan rolled her eyes at Greg — the redhead — still frozen in place. She huffed as she set a stand down, then yanked her brother out of the chair, his bony knees slamming into her stomach as he wailed in protest.
Greg snapped out of it and followed them upstairs.
Megan returned moments later, clapping her hands together with a grin.
“Great! Let’s get started, then!”
Yoonchae leaned back as they played, genuinely surprised by how good they sounded. With a name like theirs — which she still hadn’t asked about — she’d expected far worse, especially considering Daniela had just been folded into their group dynamic.
It wasn’t punk rock. Lara didn’t scream into the mic; instead, her voice was almost heavenly, like an angel reincarnated. Manon swayed with her bass, strong fingers working the strings, head tilted as she lost herself in the music, neck exposed without a care. Occasionally, she leaned toward her mic to support Lara on the lower notes, her voice a bass of its own. She was calm and in control — a stark contrast to Megan.
Megan moved in a way that demanded attention. Her leg bounced, foot constantly tapping the floor, head banging as her fingers danced across the strings, carrying the energy of both the song and the band. She was compelling to watch. Yoonchae found herself especially drawn to her guitar solos — the way Megan would go still, back slightly arched, fingers lit just enough for every twitch and vein to stand out.
Daniela balanced out the chaos. While Lara and Manon moved with restraint and Megan let loose completely, Dani existed somewhere in between. Her expressions were wild, curls bouncing as her arms slammed down, yet her lower body stayed grounded, posture relaxed and sure. Yoonchae’s gaze drifted down her face and lingered on her muscular arms. During cheer practice, Daniela was precise, posture rigid and controlled — but here, she let her body move freely, muscles defining themselves with every strike.
Yoonchae tilted her head toward Sophia, an amused smile tugging at her lips as she noticed the older girl utterly entranced by her “best friend.”
They played song after song. Yoonchae made sure to keep her expression blank throughout, even as a hundred thoughts churned inside her. She’d perfected the art of neutrality — though she knew the moment she got home, every single stuffed animal on her bed would hear every detail of the last few hours.
The trio eventually left with plates in hand. They couldn’t stay for dinner, but Megan’s mom had refused to let them go hungry. One plate was stacked with spam musubi, another piled high with a Chinese dish Yoonchae didn’t recognize — meat and vegetables mixed together, which she assumed meant it would be good — and the last loaded with noodles.
As they waited for the plates, Yoonchae’s eyes caught Zhao’s. He’d gone back to the dining table with Greg, sticking newspaper onto the wire frame of whatever disaster they were building. His eyebrows wiggled, a sly smile spreading across his face.
Yoonchae grimaced — but it didn’t last long.
A second later, his face was shoved back as Megan’s taller frame stepped in front of him.
“I’ll help you guys with that!” she said quickly, already grabbing a few containers before anyone else could.
Yoonchae was left empty-handed, her backpack the only thing on her shoulder as Megan carried the rest. The older girl carefully placed the plates onto the middle seat, then turned to face the trio. Lara and Manon lingered behind her, still holding pieces of Dani’s equipment that hadn’t been put away yet.
“Well…” Megan started. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her eyes never left Yoonchae’s.
Yoonchae faltered, eyebrow lifting in surprise.
Megan’s eyes widened. “I mean — Daniela! I’ll see Dani tomorrow. Not you! Because I don’t know you. Obviously!”
Behind them, Lara and Manon exchanged a look, both barely holding back laughter at their friend’s very public spiral.
“Right,” Yoonchae said as she got into the car.
“Right,” Megan echoed quietly.
The remaining band members waved as Dani pulled out of the driveway. Inside the car, silence settled — comfortable, save for Daniela’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel, unconsciously replaying a rhythm she’d drummed not long ago.
Sophia stayed quiet, gaze fixed on the road. Her jaw tightened, then loosened, like she was bracing herself.
“You played well,” she said at last.
The words came out stiff, measured — not because they weren’t true, but because saying them made something twist in her chest. Joining the band meant late practices, missed rides home, less time. It meant sharing Daniela with something that wasn’t her, something loud and consuming and filled with people Sophia didn’t trust.
Daniela glanced at her. “You really think so?” she asked, suddenly unsure.
Sophia nodded anyway. “Yeah. I do.”
Daniela’s face lit up instantly.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “It means a lot when it comes from you.”
“I also think you did well,” Yoonchae added. “Despite the idiotic name and the people, the music was pretty good.”
Sophia glanced back at her, eyebrow lifting — surprised not by the compliment, but by how easily it came.
“A compliment from Jeung Yoonchae?” she teased weakly. “I must be dreaming.”
“Don’t push it,” Yoonchae replied.
The rest of the drive passed quietly, the hum of the engine filling the space Sophia didn’t know how to. When they pulled up in front of Yoonchae’s house, she hesitated before opening the door.
“You’re not as subtle as you think you are,” Sophia said.
The words landed heavy.
“What?”
“I have eyes, Chae,” she continued, softer now. “Just… be careful around her, okay? She’s trouble. Especially for what you’re aiming for in life.”
Daniela grinned, glancing between them. “Oh?”
“It’s nothing,” Yoonchae said quickly, already opening the door. “Sophia’s making stuff up. Goodnight.”
She shut it before either of them could respond, waving half-heartedly as she stood in the driveway, a guitar strum echoing faintly in her mind.
Once inside her room, Yoonchae faceplanted onto her bed, arms curling around the red panda plushie she’d won at a fair back in Korea.
“She smells like cherries,” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling.
Then she sighed.