The Start of May, New Seats
The tardy April rain lingered long enough to soak even the first day of May.
Under a heavy, sun-swallowing sky, Yeoncheong arrived at a classroom already lit by fluorescent lights since morning.
“Morning, Yeoncheong.”
Seoha, her gaze buried in a book, looked up to greet her. At the sound of Seoha's voice, Hasol waved from across the room.
Yeoncheong waved back, returned Seoha's greeting, and set her bag on her desk.
Sitting down, she dabbed halfheartedly at the dampness on her legs.
Ugh... my legs are completely soaked.
On windy days, an umbrella failed at its one and only job more often than not.
The clammy discomfort of bare, wet skin was a different breed of unpleasant from soggy pant cuffs.
“Want some tissues?”
Without waiting for an answer, Seoha pulled a travel pack from her bag and handed it over.
“Thanks.”
Yeoncheong thanked her and drew out a few sheets.
She scooted her chair back a little, bent forward, and wiped the moisture from her legs.
Crumpling the soggy tissue into a tight ball, she took aim at the trash can by the back door. Like a shooter lining up a shot.
With a snap of her wrist, the tissue ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc.
It was heading straight for the can when—
“Yap!”
An defender who had materialized out of nowhere swatted it down mid-flight, flyswatter-style block.
The architect of this fine defensive play flashed a V-sign and a smile in Yeoncheong's direction. Naturally, Yeoncheong's expression was the exact opposite.
“Ah, Baek Suyeon. What are you doing?”
“How was that? Pretty good defense, right?”
Withholding her verdict, Yeoncheong pointed at the tissue on the floor.
“Pick that up and throw it away properly.”
“It's not like I blew my nose in it.”
“I wiped my wet legs with it. So.”
“Pass.”
Suyeon scooped the tissue ball back up and tossed it to Yeoncheong, who caught it one-handed.
“Ooh.”
Suyeon let out a small gasp of admiration.
Yeoncheong reset her stance. Her second attempt clipped the side of the can and dropped.
She shot Suyeon a brief glare, sighed, and finally got up to put the tissue in properly.
***
Suyeon's late arrival aside, it was one of those days when the whole class trickled in later than usual, probably on account of the rain. Yeoncheong found herself thinking that living close to school really was a blessing at times like these.
Shortly after, Teacher Jisu came in and scanned the room.
“It's been raining since morning—nobody's missing, right?”
Silence. Since latecomers can't exactly answer, that was only natural.
Teacher Jisu's gaze drifted, all too naturally, to Yeoncheong's seat. Then she gave a small nod, as if satisfied that she'd shown up.
“Everyone's here.”
Suppressed laughter rippled through the classroom.
The homeroom teacher's gaze had been anything but subtle. Yeoncheong, who had somehow become the unofficial benchmark for tardiness in Class 2-1, made no effort to hide her annoyance.
“Teacher Jisu...?”
“What? Well, you should've been coming to school on time like a normal person. It's just become automatic, I swear... Sorry.”
After piling up excuse after excuse, the teacher finally apologized.
At that, the classmates who had been holding it in burst out laughing. It was a sound that cut right through the muggy morning air.
Once the room settled, Teacher Jisu looked around again.
“Come to think of it, we've never changed seats, have we.”
“Nope. Everything's exactly the same as when the semester started.”
Hearing one student's answer, the teacher murmured to herself.
“Today's... May first, so it's been two whole months.”
Finishing her muttering, the teacher announced:
“Alright. Let's do seat changes today.”
She stepped out briefly, saying she'd go grab her laptop.
She'd told them to keep quiet, but this was an event that would turn the whole classroom upside down, and a low hum of chatter began breaking out everywhere.
Some wanted specific spots—the back row, or near the door—while others hoped to sit close to their friends.
If Yeoncheong had to pick a side, she leaned toward the former.
It's not like the people I'd call friends are likely to land near me anyway.
Hasol, Nayun, Suyeon, Seoha. Those four were the only ones Yeoncheong would actually call close.
The odds of any of them landing nearby were about the same as the odds of Yeoncheong getting a seat she actually liked.
Who sat around her mattered, sure—but it couldn't quite compete with the pull of a genuinely good seat.
The teacher returned with her laptop and hooked it up to the monitor with practiced ease. The screen was already primed for the seat shuffle.
“I'm pressing this button exactly once. There is no second press.”
With that firm warning, Teacher Jisu clicked the mouse.
Click.
Whoops of joy and groans of despair flooded the classroom at once. The teacher, rapping the podium for quiet, pointed at the monitor.
“Switch seats quickly before first period starts. Go.”
And so began Class 2-1's first great migration.
Yeoncheong's verdict on her new seat:
Not bad.
An end seat against the wall by the corridor.
Not a dream spot by any stretch, but more than satisfying at this level. And besides—
“Hey, Yeoncheong. Look at that—first and last seat numbers meeting at last.”
The owner of those bright yellow hair waved cheerfully. It was Hasol.
“Yeah, looking forward to it.”
With a friend seated right beside her, this was a resounding success.
Naturally, the two of them turned their eyes and conversation toward the whereabouts of their other friends.
“Feels kind of like we just shuffled the same people around.”
Yeoncheong bobbed her head in agreement.
Originally, Seoha and Yeoncheong had sat relatively close, as had Hasol and Suyeon. But now Yeoncheong and Hasol were paired up, while Seoha had clustered together with Suyeon and Nayun.
***
Between the seat shuffle, they went straight into first period.
The moment it ended came their first break under the new arrangement, and students rose one after another to seek out the friends they'd been separated from. Hasol headed off toward Suyeon, while Suyeon gestured at Yeoncheong, still rooted in her seat.
Hasol and Suyeon, plus Nayun too. Yeoncheong found herself once again among the friends who always came to her.
She shuffled awkwardly to her feet. Actually going to her friends for once, something about her every movement seemed stilted.
The awkwardness was apparently showing, because Suyeon poked fun at her as she approached.
“Yeoncheong, you look so weird right now.”
“Wh-what's weird about it? What's there to be awkward about?”
“Well... it's always been me or Hasol coming to you. No wonder it feels weird when you're the one doing the walking.”
Suyeon's insight struck dead center.
“If I look that weird, then you could just come over instead.”
“Not happening.”
Suyeon shook her head side to side, then pointed at Yeoncheong and Hasol.
“You and Hasol, that's two.”
Then she jabbed a finger at herself.
“Over here it's me, plus Seoha and Nayun—that's three. The side with fewer people does the walking. Basic rules.”
Arms crossed, Suyeon delivered her final word.
“So from now on, whenever something comes up, you come to us.”
“Seoha, you—you think that too?”
It was a fair point, but just in case, Yeoncheong turned hopefully to Seoha.
Seoha was wearing a bit of a pout, as if something were bothering her. After a moment's deliberation, she threw her weight behind Suyeon's ruling.
“Seoha... not you too...”
Flushed with victory, Suyeon handed down her verdict.
“Settled. From now on, at lunch or whenever anything happens, you come to us.”
***
At lunchtime, the class filed off toward the cafeteria in their usual groups. Hasol gathered her books and rose as well.
“Enjoy lunch.”
“You too.”
Hasol headed out with her usual crowd, and the classroom emptied quickly.
Uuugh. Why aren't they coming?
Stretching, Yeoncheong turned toward the two who showed no sign of showing up.
As if to say you come to us, Suyeon and Seoha stayed planted in their seats, not so much as twitching. Yeoncheong asked, just to be sure:
“So I'm the one who goes?”
Suyeon nodded. Yeoncheong pointed at the door at the front of the room.
“I'm closer to the door, though?”
This time Seoha nodded from the side.
The two of them had apparently decided this was the perfect chance to drill into Yeoncheong the habit of coming to them first. And Yeoncheong realized that everything Suyeon had said during break had been one hundred percent serious.
Shaking her head, Yeoncheong got up and went over to them. Only then did Suyeon and Seoha rise from their seats—wearing smug, satisfied grins, naturally.
“Good girl.”
The tone one uses to praise a child. As Suyeon followed up by patting her head, Seoha's hand joined in.
With a few students still lingering in the classroom, a mortified Yeoncheong leaned back and peeled their hands out of her hair.
“There. Happy? Now can we go eat?”
“Yep.”
Seoha and Suyeon followed Yeoncheong's fleeing figure out of the classroom.
***
Every friend you add to a lunch group raises the difficulty of finding a table in the cafeteria by a steep margin.
By that logic, three people was just about the sweet spot. Even arriving a little late, they could still find seats to sit together.
Tray in hand, Suyeon surveyed the cafeteria.
“It's extra crowded today.”
“If you'd come to me, we'd have gotten here sooner.”
As Yeoncheong glared at the cause of their lateness, Suyeon fired back.
“You could've come and collected us faster, couldn't you?”
“Fine. It's my fault.”
“That's right, it's your fault.”
“You little—”
Suyeon seized the opening and darted off. Yeoncheong hurried her own steps so she wouldn't lose out on a seat.
“Seoha, let's go fast too.”
Suyeon set her tray down at a desk first and called the others over. Just in time, the students beside it got up, freeing up space.
Yeoncheong sat across from Suyeon, and Seoha, of all things, took the seat right beside Yeoncheong.
“Seoha, isn't that uncomfortable?”
“Mm, I'm fine.”
Beside Yeoncheong—where a pillar took up part of the space, making it tighter than the other seats—Seoha settled herself anyway.
Suyeon flashed a knowing grin at her.
“Ah, so just because she's not your next-door neighbor anymore, you're claiming the seat-next-to-her privileges here instead?”
In lieu of an answer, Seoha quietly began her meal. Yeoncheong turned to the smirking Suyeon.
“Suyeon.”
“Yeah?”
“Quit saying weird stuff and just eat.”
She delivered the one-liner and put rice in her mouth.
“Got it. My dear friend Yeoncheong, who still can't eat her vegetables.”
Yeoncheong, who had swallowed wrong, broke into a coughing fit, and Suyeon raised her chopsticks with a laugh.
***
After final period, as Yeoncheong wrapped up her day still adjusting to the unfamiliar new seat, Nayun came up to her.
“Oh? Nayun, you're here early for once?”
“Hm? Oh. I've got stuff to do, so obviously.”
For the first time, Yeoncheong—who'd been slowly absorbing Suyeon's doctrine—received a proper answer.
“You've got your gym uniform, right?”
“It's in my locker.”
“Grab it. We're heading to the gym.”
Shouldering her bag and heading for the lockers, Yeoncheong asked:
“But is there even any space left to practice in the gym?”
“If there isn't, we just practice outside. The rain stopped by lunch, remember.”
Yeoncheong glanced outside. The sun had poked out from between the clouds, but the ground still looked damp.
“Doesn't seem like it's dried yet.”
“Let's just get to the gym first and figure it out then.”
Declaring that worries could wait until they got there, Nayun gave her a push on the back.