Friday arrived with the promise of the weekend, but first, I had to survive the gauntlet of the curriculum.
Period 1 (9:00 AM): Korean Language. I spent fifty minutes trying to understand the difference between eotteokhae (what should I do) and eotteohge (how). Ironically, I didn't know the answer to either in my current life situation.
Period 2 (10:00 AM): Mathematics. Mrs. Smith was in a good mood, which meant she only called on me twice to solve equations on the board. I managed to survive without embarrassing myself or my country.
Period 3 (11:00 AM): Applied Performance. This was the minefield. It was a combined class with 2-A. That meant Yoo Chae-rin. She sat in the front row, radiating impatience. She didn't look at me, but I could feel her silent checklist burning into the back of my neck. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact.
Period 4 (12:00 PM): Korean History. Ms. Choi gave a lecture. It was heavy, somber, and interesting, but my brain was preoccupied with logistics.
Lunch was a blur of inhaling bibimbap while Min-ah updated me on the "Masked Rapper" search (the suspects were now narrowed down to three trainees and, hilariously, a janitor with a good singing voice). She also told me about some dating rumors that occasionaly popped up on Kirin's Secret.
Period 5 (1:50 PM): English. Easy mode.
Period 6 (2:50 PM): Music Theory. This was where the trouble started. The teacher, Mr. Ahn, was a short, energetic man who loved writing complex chord progressions on the very top of the blackboard, seemingly forgetting that not everyone was six feet tall.
Period 7 (3:50 PM): Homeroom. No club activities today. The room buzzed with weekend plans.
I looked over at Jun-seo. He was packing his bag with precise, mechanical movements. Today was his last day of "leadership detention" for the fight with Myung-Dae. He would be free. Myung-Dae, however, was still serving time. The "unauthorized concert" stunt at the opening ceremony had earned him a longer sentence.
Period 8 (4:50 PM): Free Study. I tried to memorize vocabulary. I failed.
Finally, the bell rang.
"Cleaning duty!" Jun-seo announced. "San, Ha-neul. You're up."
The classroom emptied quickly. Students rushed off to their hagwons (cram schools), karaoke rooms, or secret dates.
Soon, it was just the two of us.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, bathing the classroom in a warm, orange glow. Dust motes danced in the light. It was quiet. Peaceful.
I grabbed a broom and started sweeping the back of the room. Ha-neul took the chalkboard eraser and went to the front.
Swish, swish. The sound of the eraser against the board was rhythmic.
"So," Ha-neul said, her back to me. She was erasing Mr. Ahn's complex chords. "Are you going to tell Ms. Choi on Monday?"
"Tell her what?" I asked, sweeping under Min-ah's desk.
"That you're forfeiting the band spot," she said. "That you can't fulfill Chae-rin's crazy conditions. You know you can't fix them, San. Jun-seo and Myung-Dae... it's too deep. You're just going to get hurt."
I didn't answer. I just kept sweeping.
Ha-neul reached up. Mr. Ahn had written the Circle of Fifths right at the top molding of the board. Ha-neul was tall for a girl, but not that tall.
She stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arm. The eraser missed the top line by an inch.
"San," she said, strain in her voice as she jumped slightly. "I'm serious. Why are you so stubborn? Why do you care so much about a grade?"
She jumped again. Miss. A puff of chalk dust fell on her immaculate blazer.
"Aish..." she muttered, frustrated.
I stopped sweeping. I leaned the broom against a desk.
I walked silently down the aisle. My sneakers made no sound on the floor.
"San?" she asked again, annoyed by my silence. "Are you listening? Why won't you just give up?"
She reached up one more time, her arm fully extended, her heels off the ground.
I stepped in.
I moved right behind her. Close. Not touching, but close enough that I could smell her shampoo—something floral and clean.
I reached over her shoulder.
My arm brushed against hers as I grabbed the top of the eraser she was holding. My hand covered hers for a split second before I gently took the tool from her grip.
Ha-neul froze. She dropped back onto her heels.
Her back was to my chest. I could feel the sudden tension in her shoulders. She stopped breathing.
I didn't step back. I stayed there, encasing her in the space between me and the board.
With effortless reach, I slid the eraser across the top of the board.
Swish.
The Circle of Fifths vanished in a cloud of white dust.
"Why should I tell her that?" I said, my voice low, vibrating right near her ear. "Jun-seo needs to tell that to Ms. Choi not me. Anyways, it's not about the grade anymore."
I swiped again, clearing the last of the chalk.
"And I don't think they want to be broken, Ha-neul. I think they're just waiting for an excuse to be fixed."
I lowered my arm. I placed the eraser on the tray, right in front of her.
I stepped back, giving her space.
"There," I said, my voice returning to its normal, nonchalant tone. "All clean."
Ha-neul didn't move. She was staring at the blank blackboard, her hand still hovering where the eraser used to be. She looked... stunned. Her ears were turning a bright, vivid pink.
I grabbed the trash bag from the corner of the room.
"I'll go throw this out," I said, slinging it over my shoulder. "Oh, and Mrs. Lee texted. She's on her way back from the city. She said she can pick us up at the gate in ten minutes."
I walked to the door.
"See you outside, Vice-President."
I slid the door shut, leaving her standing alone in the golden sunset, staring at the empty chalkboard.