Lonely Soul

“SEONGHOON!”

“Ah?” Seonghoon mumbled.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Ack...I’m tired. Leemeeee alone,” he slurred in reply.

“SEOOOONGHOOOOON!”

“Aiya hyung! Can I sleep? It's bad enough Oma gave birth to Yoonji and now I have you pestering me?”

“Didn’t Jiyong say you just had some coffee? You shoulda had some soju!”

“I thought it woulda worked. It works for you,” Seonghoon muttered.

“I’m Jiwon. Not Seonghoon. Coffee likes Jiwon. Jiwon likes coffee. Seonghoon likes hating school. School likes hating Seonghoon. You don’t see the connection?”

“Nice analogy. The SAT’s could always use some new ones,” Seonghoon cracked dryly.

“Haha. Now what’s wrong?”

Seonghoon closed his eyes.

“Chut sarang?”

“HELLLLLLLS NO!” Seonghoon bellowed, his eyes snapping open.

“Hey, I think my words have more effect on you than coffee! Good job, Jiwon,” Jiwon laughed.

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re gay.”

“Haha. Try using that on Jiyong,” Seonghoon snorted.

“I’m telling him! You like him!”

“I’ll tell Joosa you want her ass,” Seonghoon fired back.

“Oh! Not a good move, Jiwon. Seonghoon has you in checkmate. Let’s see.”

“You’re corny.”

Jiwon shifted his bookbag. “No, I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just don’t feel well.”

“I know you don’t. And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’ve known you for so long. Maybe if you say that to Yoonji, it’ll pass. But not for Sexy Jiwonie. What is it?”

“Wuddid you just say?”

“What?”

“What did you just call yourself?”

“Jiwon.”

“No, before that.”

“What?”

“You called yourself ‘sexy'? ”

“Why not?”

“I think Yoonji should start calling you wangja byung.”

“Good Jiwon. Now you got him talking.”

“Why do you always talk to yourself?”

“Why not?”

“Forget it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uhhhhhh.”

“My deepest thoughts confirmed. It’s chut sarang.”

“It’s my dream lover,” Seonghoon said sarcastically.

“Let’s go over there. Too many people over here,” Jiwon suggested, pointing to the corner of the library.

Seonghoon agreed and followed the older boy. They sat down, opposite of each other and threw their bags on the table. They stuffed their faces behind the bags, muffling their voices.

“Dream lover?” Jiwon prompted.

“Yeah. Jiyong knows about her.”

“How does she look like?”

“You know what? That’s a good question. I never saw how she looked like.” Seonghoon frowned at the realization.

“You really are a piece of work. You know that? You really are.”

“I’m serious. If you hadn’t asked me that, I still wouldn’t have paid attention to it.”

“What happened?”

“I’ve been having nightmares about her dying.”

“Ooh...Dying?”

“Yeah. It’s just so strange. Sometimes I see myself chasing her and sometimes I just...see her.”

“I hope Joosa won’t find me. I’m not in the mood to go shopping with her.”

Seonghoon giggled at the remark. “Now you know how it feels to be Seonghoon?”

“Oh, yes. You live a very, very complex and complicated life,” Jiwon answered dramatically.

“I dunno wutto do now. I don’t even wanna go home anymore,” Seonghoon wailed.

“Move in with me. My brother and sister moved out. The house is getting quite empty,” Jiwon suggested.

“My oma won’t let. Plus, Yoonji won’t lemme. She’s too attached to me.”

“Heh. I’m glad I’m the youngest one in my family,” Jiwon chuckled.

“You know what? You and Jiyong have been saying the same thing to me all day! ‘I’m glad I’m the younger one,’ ” Seonghoon mimicked.

“Well, I am! You’re just jealous!”

“See this?” Seonghoon pointed to his behind. “Kiss it.”

“See what? Wuz dat?”

“My butt.”

“Wut butt? You call that an ass? No, no, no, no...now what Jaeduk has is called a 'Whoa, Mama!' What you got is not even close to a quarter moon!”

Seonghoon pushed his chair back so suddenly it tipped over as he jumped out of it. “What were you doing looking at his butt?” he laughed, picking up his chair.

“Can’t help it! That thing was in my face when he farted!” Jiwon chortled.

“Ewwwww! He farted in your face?!”

“Nevertheless.”

Seonghoon laughed harder.

“So, what’s the girl’s name?” Jiwon asked, wiping away a tear.

“I’ll be damned. Her name happens to be almost the exact same thing as my sister’s.”

“What is it?”

“Yoonyi.”

Jiwon drew a shaky intake of breath. “Yoonyi?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You know that Yoonyi girl died?”

“Died? When?”

“I don’t remember. But she went to a good school. Got good grades. I think Jaejin’s sister may know her.”

“How would she know?”

“She was about her age. She’s like a few years younger?”

“I dunno. She’s just scary.”

“So that’s what’s been bothering you?”

“It’s the only thing other than Joosa.”

“Well,” Jiwon yawned, stretching his arms out. He looked at his watch. “Gotta go. I think I better go with her before she comes to school tomorrow with a butterfly knife, claiming my life. Wanna ride?”

“Nah. Got my own. Gotta go do the stupid laundry.”

“Laundry?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t make a difference when you have a sister or not.”

“Why you say that?”

“Cuz Yoonji doesn’t do anything. I have to wash her undies.”

“Wutta loving oppa. I admire her so much.”

“Ek!”

“Say! When do you wanna come over and wash my clothes for me?”

“When I lose all my hair and become old and wrinkly.”

“Whoa! That’ll take a while with that mop on your head.”

“Shut up!”

“Go and wash your dirty clothes. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“If you do live till tomorrow.”

Yoonyi picked up her head from her book and squinted at the digital clock by her bed. It was already three-thirty and she still wasn’t done with her work. She still had a mini pile going, but she felt she couldn’t handle the pressure any longer. She sat at her desk all morning and she only completed three fourths of the work. Quite disappointing.

She got up out of her seat and stretched, deciding she was thirsty, she finally ventured back downstairs for her daily orange juice. She slipped behind the counter and tripped over a huge bundle, not aware of the contents inside. She kicked the soft end and drew the strings apart, sneaking a peek inside.

It was dirty laundry her mother sorted out. She looked for a note her mother usually scribbles and found it stuck on the freezer. She quickly scanned it and growled at the yellow piece of paper.

“Oma ya! You know I hate chores!”

But there was no response. Yoonyi shrugged at the vacant air and pulled open a drawer that usually held loose change for laundry. She filled up her pocket with change and stepped over to the overloaded white bag. She tugged on the bag forcefully, making it slide off the little platform and through the opening of the counter. She strided over to the closet and threw the door open. She poked her head into the darkness, looking for her little red wagon her brother had gotten her on her sixth birthday. She wheeled it out and dumped the stuffed bag on the little automobile.

She exited the house, pulling the wagon with her, into the warm afternoon sun.