“Good, because you should know better,” Jaegil said. “Girls don’t talk to losers like you, no matter how much money your father makes.”
Changwan hunched and Jaegil grinned. He was already reveling in the pain he’d inflicted.
It made Miyoung despise him even more. Maybe that was why she did such an uncharacteristic thing next.
“He’s my friend. Right, Changwan-ah?” Miyoung threw her arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” he stammered, a blush rising over his neck and onto his cheeks.
Jaegil let out a huff, glancing back and forth between Miyoung and Changwan.
A car pulled up to the curb, the windows tinted so black Miyoung couldn’t see inside.
Changwan let out a sigh of relief.
“I gotta go,” he said to her, not bothering to glance at the two bullies who still loomed above him. “See you tomorrow, Miyoung.” He paused, then added the friendly modifier “-ah.”
“See you.” Miyoung forced a smile as he rushed to the car.
“You know, I could be your friend, too,” Jaegil said with a leer.
“I have enough.” The smile slid from her face as she turned away, but Jaegil moved with her.
“You want a smoke?” Jaegil stood above her, a cigarette perched between two fingers. She imagined he thought the pose attractive. He’d probably practiced it a dozen times before pulling it out to impress the girls.
A small voice in the back of her head told her there was a way to get rid of Jaegil. To make sure he wouldn’t bother her or bully anyone ever again. The hunger gnawing at her had become a constant ache. And it pushed at her, telling her that this boy didn’t deserve his life if he was going to use it to cause others pain.
“I asked you a question.” Jaegil’s tone became insistent, grating at her raw nerves. “It’s rude not to answer. Isn’t it, Seho?”
“Very rude,” the larger boy said. His voice was a mocking baritone.
“I don’t smoke.” Miyoung laced her words with venom. Get away from me, she thought, before I do something I’ll regret.
Jaegil didn’t take the hint. “You sure you don’t want one? I usually don’t share.”
He shoved a cigarette under her nose so she smelled the sour tobacco. She snatched it from his hand as she stood. But before she could make another move, Jihoon arrived and pushed Jaegil back. “Lay off.”
“Aw, Ahn Jihoon came to rescue his yeo-chin.”
Miyoung started forward, but Jihoon stopped her. “I don’t think you want the attention kicking his ass will get you.”
Jaegil let out a derisive laugh, and Seho took a step closer. “You think she could beat me up? I’d like to see her try.”
“Trust me, you really wouldn’t,” Jihoon said.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Miyoung said through gritted teeth.
“Let me handle this,” Jihoon said.
“I said to leave it alone!” Miyoung’s shout echoed off the glass of the bus shelter. Heat nestled in her lungs. It mixed with her ever-present hunger and made her chest feel too tight.
“I guess she doesn’t like you that much after all, Ahn Jihoon,” Jaegil said with a chuckle.
“Oh, shut up!” Miyoung whirled on Jaegil, and he took a step back at the vehemence in her voice. “I hate guys like you, who think you can bully your way into getting everything you want. And these”—she snatched the cigarettes from his hand—“are going to kill you.”
She balled the pack in her fist. The heat that pushed her rage spread, pulsing through her until she couldn’t think beyond it. She swung her fist; Jaegil winced, anticipating the blow. Miyoung pitched the cigarettes away, her wrath fueling her. The crumbled ball of cigarettes and cardboard slammed into the window of the mart beside the bus stop. The force cracked the glass, spiderweb fissures growing from the point of impact. Too late, Miyoung realized she hadn’t just thrown it, but used her supernatural gumiho strength. In public.
For a few tense seconds, it seemed like maybe the window wouldn’t break. Then it did, the falling glass mocking Miyoung with a delicate chorus of tinkling shards.
“Heol!” Jaegil said, his eyes wide as he looked between Mi-young and the broken window.
Her stomach dropped. This wasn’t something a normal girl could do—break a solid windowpane with a ball of trash. Her eyes slid to Jihoon, who stared at the broken window with openmouthed shock. Then the owner of the mart came running out, shouting rapid-fire curses.
“Who did this? I called the police! Who’s going to pay for this?”