face with an equally mischievous grin. It worked well to get him his way.
She hardly spoke to anyone during the school day. It was one of her top coping mechanisms. Ignore everyone until they started ignoring her, too. The only exception was Jihoon. He would say casual hellos to her in the hallway. Invite her constantly to sit with him and his friends at lunch (the accompanying glares from Somin would have stopped her if she hadn’t already started eating lunch alone on the outside steps).
But the only place she couldn’t avoid Jihoon was the bus. It had become a strange part of her routine. He’d always sit beside her, babbling about his day, asking her questions about hers. And when she didn’t answer, he’d just keep rambling on.
It was an odd, new experience, to have someone who sat with her, talked with her. And annoyed the living daylights out of her.
She started to recognize his small habits. How he tapped his fingers against any surface, a mindless action. How he accepted everyone and in turn people gravitated toward him. Even Miyoung, though she hated to admit it, was starting to feel more comfortable around him.
Making her way out of the school building, Miyoung scanned the courtyard. Not to look for a specific person, she told herself, but when she didn’t see a lanky form with ruffled hair, she was disappointed. Jihoon had been held after class to talk to the teacher. He was a horrible student, almost laughably bad.
Miyoung walked out the school gates, shuffling her feet. She felt oddly reluctant to leave, like being outside of campus meant it would be harder for Jihoon to find her. Which was ridiculous, as the bus stop was within view of the front steps. She settled against the bus shelter.
Two boys ambled up, leaning against the opposite side of the glass. One was tall, with pointed features, like a rat. The other was wide, a lumbering boy. The taller, ratty boy slapped a pack of cigarettes against his palm. They were banned on school grounds, but perhaps the boy felt confident since he stood several meters outside of campus. Miyoung practically felt his stare on her and ignored them both.
She craned her neck to the side to see if Jihoon was coming out of the school.
Instead, Changwan was making his way to the curb.
“Miyoung-ssi.” Changwan used the formal title, like his manners overwhelmed the fact that they were peers. It was something she secretly liked, his politeness. “Are you waiting for the bus alone?” He looked around, and Miyoung knew he searched for Jihoon.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Miyoung asked, then realized it was probably a bit harsh. And something about Changwan softened her heart. “Would you wait with me a bit?”
The shy boy blushed, gave a small nod, and sat, keeping half a meter of space between them. She couldn’t help it, she grinned. She was used to boys being awestruck by her, but Changwan’s admiration felt so innocent.
“He’s a good guy,” Changwan said.
“Who?”
“Jihoonie. He’s a good guy. I know it might seem like he’s lazy and doesn’t care, but he does,” Changwan said. “You’ve probably noticed I’m not as cool as him or Somin. But they’ve never once made me feel like I don’t belong.”
“Are you being a wingman?” Miyoung couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice.
“He didn’t ask me to say anything,” Changwan said quickly. He held up his hands like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “But I can tell he likes you. I’m hoping you like him, too, and if you don’t, I’m hoping you’ll let him down easy. Jihoon puts up a brave front but he’s been through some stuff.”
“Been through stuff? Like what?”
Changwan shook his head. “It’s not my place—”
“Everyone knows about Ahn Jihoon’s criminal father and runaway mother. Makes you wonder what secrets he’s hiding that made both of his parents leave him,” the rat-like boy said.
Miyoung’s eyes tracked down to his uniform name tag: JUNG JAEGIL. Now she remembered him. He was a second-year in a different class. Miyoung had seen him in the halls, bullying first-years, sometimes for lunch money, sometimes for fun. Miyoung abhorred bullies.
Behind him stood the larger boy. His name tag read KANG SEHO. It seemed like Jaegil was the mouth and Seho the muscle—a bully cliché if Miyoung had ever seen one.
“That’s none of your business,” Changwan said, but his voice wavered with fear.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Jaegil said with a shrug. “Trying to impress