Chapter Text
The kitchen smelled heavenly. Sweet and salty sauces simmered on the stove, their aroma mixing with the heady scent of braised pork and frying shrimp. Onions hissed along with minced garlic and ginger as they were tossed into a hot pan, their edges quickly curling into a translucent brown.
All of it made Mira’s stomach churn.
She was standing across from the cacophony that was her father, gritting her teeth so hard that her temples pulsed. As he banged lids onto pots and slammed cabinets hard enough to make the hinges rattle, his voice rose in a stream of insults, demands, and expletives. Mira had lost the thread of his rant some time ago as she curled and uncurled her fists, breathing around the choking anger growing in her chest.
The founder of international sikdang chain Gubok Mandu did the cooking every night he was home, each meal a testament to the hypocrisy of his traditional-values bullshit. To his credit, he never did any other household chore. And so out of the corner of her eye, Mira watched her mom silently fold the laundry in the other room, gaze flicking apprehensively over to her husband every few minutes. Her mom craved peace. Her mom craved harmony. Neither was ever around whenever Kang Yeonseo and his youngest daughter were in the same house.
The heavy cutting board slammed into the counter with enough force to make Mira startle before she caught herself. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Her dad was red in the face by now, and god, he was so ugly. Surely her mom could’ve done better.
“Paying attention now?” He sneered. “You need this–” He picked up the cutting board again, a woodstained ornamental thing that was probably thicker than her mother’s arm, and slammed it down so hard that the pots on the stove rattled dangerously. “--to make you fucking pay attention?” Mira’s ears rang. Her heartbeat slammed in her chest at a dizzying speed. “What the fuck are you doing every day that’s so important, huh? You think you’re not a part of this family? You think you don’t need to do anything for this family?”
He yanked a shining knife out of the knife block and began to furiously chop a napa cabbage, blade flashing at a mesmerizing speed. Visions of his hand slipping and blood gushing everywhere passed briefly through Mira’s mind.
“Yeong!” he barked suddenly. Mira saw the jolt of her mother’s shoulders. “Get up and get over here! Is this how you raise your daughter?”
As she hurried over, Mira’s dad slid the flat of the knife blade under the cabbage slices, gathering them up. He threw them into the soup with a splash, forcing Mira to jerk back to avoid droplets of boiling water. She crashed into her mother, whose hands briefly wrapped around her daughter’s shoulders to steady her before they both pulled away.
“Sorry,” Mira mumbled automatically. She caught a glimpse of her mother’s expression, saw the fleeting contempt as her eyes passed over Mira’s face, and then placid blankness again as she faced her husband.
Immediately Mira regretted her apology, resentment burning her cheeks a blazing red. She stared at her mother’s back, bleary-eyed with fury as her father turned his vitriol onto his wife. She willed her mother’s shoulders to straighten and her voice to raise, willed her to be anything more than this coward.
If she had been a better daughter, or perhaps if she had been a son, maybe she would have pushed her way in front of the small woman in front of her. Already she was a head taller than her mom and threatened to catch up to her father’s height. If she was a better person she would have taken her endless store of anger and turned it into righteous indignation, refusing to let her mother take the brunt of this man’s fury. But Mira had grown up watching her mom leave the room every time her husband stalked towards Mira with a bamboo switch, and so she too turned away to let her mother fend for herself.
*
The route was second nature by now. Down the hall, into her room, locking the door behind her and silently opening her bedroom window. She shimmied out the open space and dropped onto the pavement, and ran.
She was half a mile away before she came back to herself. Chest heaving, hair plastered to her face and neck, Mira came to a stumbling stop. She dropped to her haunches, hands buried in her hair, and screamed.
It didn’t help as much as she thought it would.
Fuck this. She needed to go find someone to punch.
A few minutes later, she stormed in the back door of Takedown. The boy wiping down the gym equipment looked up, startled, then sighed. “Mira. How did you even-” He caught the key Mira threw at his face. “Okay, I definitely didn’t—”
“Shut the fuck up, Jinu.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the mats. “Fight me.”
He glanced over her as she raised her fists, and Mira knew he was taking her in: blazing cheeks, flyaway hair, and wild eyes. He sighed again. “You need to get better coping mechanisms.” He shifted his stance onto the balls of his feet though, and that was all Mira needed.
She came at him like a demon.
Jinu dodged the first punch, and the next, and the next. Mira snarled. Jinu’s fighting was pretty - textbook perfect footwork, moving so fast he almost didn’t seem corporeal, but rarely trying to attack. He liked to let people tire themselves out.
Mira fought for the brutal joy of fist connecting with flesh.
She faked a punch towards his nose, and as he sidestepped, she dropped low and swept out a leg. Jinu jumped back, but he was caught off guard and her legs were long. He stumbled. Mira leapt at him, and they both crashed to the mat with a mighty whumph. Immediately Jinu threw up his arms to block his face, as she rained down a barrage of blows. “Ow - not the face - ow - Jesus-”
Jinu bucked, suddenly grabbing Mira’s fist as it drove towards him again and shoving it sideways. Her body followed momentum, and she crashed shoulder-first into the mat with a growl. Jinu was already staggering to his feet. “Can we call tru-”
Mira rolled on her back and slammed the flat of her foot into his shin. Jinu swore loudly — Mira got to her feet — and there. There was that flash of animal rage in his face. Mira saw it - for a second, he wanted to hurt her back. He threw a punch at her stomach, and Mira braced, letting it connect. As surprise flickered across his face, she smashed her fist right into his solar plexus.
The breath whooshed out of him. Mira stepped back, and Jinu fell to his knees. As he began coughing, Mira headed towards the punching bags.
*
A bit later, Jinu held an ice pack to his abdomen and anxiously checked his reflection in the gym’s dingy mirrors. Mira rolled her eyes. “Your face is fine.”
“No thanks to you,” Jinu grumbled, dropping into a chair across from her. “You know I have an audition this week.”
“You’re the one who keeps trying to convince me only talent matters on stage.”
“Talent does matter. But if I forget a line, I can just do this-,” Jinu winked and Mira dramatically stuck a finger down her throat. “-and I’ll be the lead in no time.”
“You know, you're not supposed to be an athlete and a theater kid. You’re disrupting the fragile hierarchy of high school.”
“This is coming from Kang Mira, top ranking student and school delinquent.” Jinu smirked. “How’d that English exam go for you?”
“Dunno. Scores aren’t posted yet.” Mira’s leg began bouncing. “I better have gotten a higher score than Ru— than some other students. Stayed up all night for it.”
Jinu dropped his chin into his hands, eyebrows waggling. Mira’s eyebrows furrowed into a scowl of such profound disgust that he stopped, but his smile was still far too wide. “And howww do we feel about some other students, Mira?”
She threw her bag of frozen peas at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but shut the fuck up before I beat your ass again.”
Jinu rubbed his forehead cheerfully. “I got a hit in this time though. It’s a win in my book.”
Mira scoffed. “Please. You broadcasted that punch so clearly a half-blind grandma with cataracts could’ve seen it coming. You always pull your punches.”
“So said the pot to the kettle.” Jinu leaned back, affecting a manner so casual that Mira was immediately on guard. “I saw the way you went at those punching bags.” A beat of silence. “Is everything—”
Mira cut him off. “Everything’s fine.”
Jinu nodded slowly, but continued, “I saw that another location of Gubok Mandu declared bankruptcy.”
Mira stood up so fast her chair tipped over. “Thanks for the peas. Put them in the freezer again for next time.”
“Mira-”
She was already halfway out the door, and Jinu only saw the glint of the key ring dangling from her fingers as the heavy door slammed shut behind her. He hurriedly patted his pockets. They were, of course, empty. He dragged a hand down his face and groaned.
***
“You know you aren’t supposed to bring skateboards inside the school, right?”
Mira paused, biting down a weird twitch at the corner of her lips. She made a show of closing her locker, deliberately turning around and leaning back against it. “What skateboard?”
Rumi crossed her arms, looking disdainful as ever. “I just watched you put it away.” Her eyes flicked down. Mira had yanked the top of the stuffy uniform shirt open on the way to school, annoyed by how the collar scratched her throat. “And — your – and your tie is all loose!”
“What’re you gonna do about it, princess?”
Rumi sputtered for a second. It was music to Mira’s ears. Then she narrowed her eyes, flipped her perfect braid over her shoulder, and all thoughts fled from Mira’s head as the class president tugged her forward by the tie.
“What’re you—”
“I’m fixing your tie. Obviously.” Not yet she wasn’t. First she had to button Mira’s shirt to the top again, and when one of her perfectly trimmed nails accidentally scraped Mira’s collarbone, a flush began to travel up Mira’s throat and to the tip of her ears.
“Duck,” Rumi commanded. Mira found herself obediently lowering her head so Rumi could untwist the tie. For a second, she was staring directly at Rumi’s lips. They were…pretty much what she expected Ryu Rumi’s lips to be. Pink like the dahlias in her family’s garden. A light layer of lip balm with the slightest touch of clear gloss. Currently they were pursed in concentration. Mira had the fleeting urge to–
“There.” Rumi gave a final decisive pull, straightening the knot and smoothing the fabric into place.
Mira hurriedly straightened back up. “Well?” She prayed her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Am I presentable now?”
Rumi gave her a once-over. Mira pretended she didn’t care what the judgement was, pretended her skin didn’t prickle in anticipation under the intensity of Rumi’s gaze. “Presentable.”
“Gre - good.” Mira cleared her throat. “Glad you like what you see.” She started to push her way past the shorter girl, but briefly bent down again to murmur in her ear, “Cause I wanna look good when my name’s ranked first on this exam.”
“Like hell it will be,” Rumi hissed back.
Mira flicked Rumi’s braid back over her shoulder as she passed. She felt the glare boring into her back all the way to her seat.
As she kicked her legs up onto the table, Mira rubbed her thumb over the perfect tie knot and pressed her lips together to suppress a wild grin. Now she really hoped her name was at the top of the list.
“I know you’re all waiting for exam scores to come out.”
From her vantage point at the back of the room, Mira could see Rumi’s shoulders immediately tense. Her own leg was bouncing underneath the table, anticipation singing through her veins. She felt more than one pair of eyes slide to her and Rumi, aware of the ongoing rivalry between the delinquent and the class president.
“But before that,” continued the homeroom teacher. “I’d like to welcome a new student. Zoey, would you come up and introduce yourself?”
Mira bit back an annoyed huff. She couldn’t care less about a new student — hell, she barely knew the current students in her homeroom. She rocked her chair onto its back legs, ready to stare off into space and zone out.
Until she got a good look at the new student.
Holy hell, she was gorgeous.
“Hi everyone!” Zoey chirped. “My name is Zoey Kim, and I’m so happy to meet you all!”
Mira couldn’t stop staring. Maybe it was just the way the sun came through the windows, but she could’ve sworn the room had brightened since two seconds ago. Zoey had the biggest eyes she had ever seen. Her eyes brought to mind all the shitty cliches written about brown eyes: pools of chocolate, puppy dogs, honey in the sun. For the first time in her life, Mira had to concede that the cliches had a damn point. She could get lost in those eyes for hours.
Zoey’s hair was twisted into braided buns on either side of her head, making her look somewhat like a cartoon space princess. It was absurd. She was like — like if a deer made a wish to become a magical space princess and then got banished to a shitty high school.
As a rule, Mira fucked heavily with magical space princesses. They had kind of been her gay awakening.
“I guess I should start with some fun facts about me?” Zoey was saying. “I really, really like turtles – wait, I guess I should start by saying I moved here from America. Well, I guess technically I’m from here first, but then I moved to America when I was little, and now, well now I’m back. So. I’m from America.” She took a deep breath, cheeks slightly pink under the scrutiny of thirty pairs of eyes.
Mira thought she might be getting cuteness aggression. Holy shit.
“Uh, anyway.” Zoey cleared her throat, eyes lighting up again. “I’m really into turtles — all sea creatures really, but especially turtles. I have whole notebooks filled with them. Please ask me about them.” She giggled nervously. “Right. I hope we can all be good friends!”
Mira watched, utterly transfixed, as Zoey did an awkward part-wave part-bow motion and hurried back to her seat.
She heard the whispers and muffled giggles start up almost immediately.
“What the hell was that?”
“Why was she talking about turtles?”
“Oh my god, I got secondhand embarrassment from that.”
“She’s kinda pretty, don’t you think? But such a weirdo.”
Mira’s fists tightened. Vultures.
She loudly slammed her elbow on her desk, making the flimsy plastic legs rattle alarmingly. The whispers around her abruptly ceased. With deliberate slowness, she propped her cheek on her chin and turned to the girl who made the last comment.
“Hey, Ha-eun?”
The girl eyed her warily. She didn’t even have the decency to look halfway ashamed. “W-what? I didn’t say anything wrong.”
“You know,” Mira murmured. “I think you’re pretty smart.”
“You…do?” Her skepticism was clear.
“Yeah, I think if you studied even half as much as you gossip, you wouldn’t be in the bottom quarter of the grade. I mean, a fifty-five on that math exam?” Mira sucked her teeth. “It was multiple choice, Ha-eun.”
Her classmate flushed red, sputtering. “You can’t--”
Mira’s glare stopped her in her tracks. “I’m trying to tell you to shut up. I have to sit here every day listening to your yakking. It’s fucking annoying.”
“Kang Mira!” The homeroom teacher suddenly raised her voice. “Is there a problem back there?”
Mira didn’t take her eyes off Ha-eun as she answered. “Sorry, Teacher. I was just asking our classmates to be a little quieter during class time.”
When she finally turned back to face the front, her heart skipped a beat. Zoey had twisted in her seat, curious about the commotion. Their eyes met.
Like soon-to-be roadkill staring into headlights, Mira froze. Zoey tilted her head, a hesitant smile playing about her lips. Mira didn’t blink. As her mind glitched helplessly, she saw Zoey’s smile fade, and she turned back around.
The air whooshed out of Mira’s lungs. She fought the urge to thunk her head down on the desk only because she knew a certain perfect little princess was watching. She glanced over, and sure enough – Rumi’s head was tilted at an angle where she could look back without being too obvious. Like the little shit she was, Mira wiggled her fingers in an exaggerated wave. Rumi’s head jerked straight, and Mira smirked.
What would she do if she didn’t have Ryu Rumi to entertain her in class? Die of boredom, probably. Get much worse grades, certainly.
Speaking of grades, Mira thought she might explode if the teacher didn’t stop talking about some assembly next month and start handing out the exam scores. The only people who cared about school assemblies were donors who wanted to make sure their money was being used in the "right” way, and theater and choir kids. Donors were usually wrinkled officials with a stick so far up their asses that they didn’t need a cane to stand up straight. The theatre and choir club members would have to prepare a performance as part of the assembly to prove they were worth funding. They’d probably start final rehearsals soon.
Oh god, if Jinu started singing Jeokbyeokga at her, she would drop kick him before he finished the first verse.
“Alright,” the teacher eventually said. “That’s all the announcements for this week. I’m sure you’re all impatient to know your exam scores.” She turned around, taping a piece of paper to the chalkboard. “As always, please come see me in my office when you have a moment so I can hand back your exam and answer any questions.”
As soon as the teacher left, the class surged towards the board, Mira included. Every time exam scores were posted, she had a rare moment of gratitude for her height. She bent over several of the shorter girls and squinted at the sheet of paper.
Name: KANG, MIRA
Exam Rank: 1
Class Rank: 2
Name: RYU, RUMI
Exam Rank: 2
Class Rank: 1
Mira exhaled the breath she had been holding, a giant smile splitting across her face. Exclamations or sighs sounded all around her, but she was waiting for a specific hiss of disappointment.
When it came, as she knew it would, she waited until Rumi turned around and saw her.
Rumi’s eyes narrowed. Mira winked. Mira reached up, straightened her tie, and slowly mouthed two words.
Thank — you.
Rumi’s face reddened with anger, and it was beautiful.
But then Rumi reached up and tapped the numbers under Class Rank. Rumi was still ranked first in the class, even if Mira had bested her on this exam. It was Mira’s turn to glower before turning away in a huff.
As she started to head back to her seat, though, her eyes fell across a figure curled in their seat, scribbling madly in a notebook. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Her heart beat faster than it had even when looking at the score sheet.
She took a step forward, then stopped.
She abruptly pivoted and hurried in the opposite direction, then stopped again.
She turned back —
– and saw Zoey already talking with someone. Someone with a perfect braid and lips the color of dahlias.
She stormed out of the classroom. In the hallway, she dropped her forehead against the cool wall and heaved a sigh.
Mira, you are such a loser.