Sports Festival, What's Up With Her?
The cafeteria was packed with students in gym uniforms and a rainbow of class T-shirts — a colorful sight you'd never see on an ordinary day.
The air conditioning whirred overhead, but with so many students pouring in from the blazing sun outside, it was still secretly warm.
Yeoncheong and her friends polished off lunch quickly and headed back to the classroom.
The moment they walked in, one person went plastered herself to her desk.
"Ahhh. So cool."
The classroom, with its comparatively lower density, felt airy and refreshed by a pleasant breeze. The desk, chilled to the touch by all that lingering cold air, steadily drew the heat out of Yeoncheong's body.
The plan was to rest in the classroom until lunch period ended.
Yeoncheong intended to snatch a quick nap before the afternoon's basketball semifinals and the three-legged race, but—
"Yeoncheong, you need to go brush your teeth."
It was Seoha, looking after her friend's dental health, who called out to her.
"I'll do it in a bit..."
Yeoncheong squirmed against her desk. Watching her, Seoha pointed at her own mouth.
"I saw something stuck in your teeth earlier."
"Really?"
No matter how tired she was, there was no way she could keep lying face-down on her desk after hearing that.
It was all the more so because it came from Seoha, who had never once told a lie.
Grumbling all the while, Yeoncheong pulled her toothbrush out of her locker and headed to the bathroom with Seoha. And then—
"Seoha? Nothing's stuck in my teeth at all?"
"I know. I just wanted to make you go brush them."
That day, Yeoncheong learned something.
That Seoha was, in fact, perfectly capable of lying.
Once lunch period ended, the 1st- and 3rd-years' events took over the schedule, and a short break arrived for the 2nd-years.
Yeoncheong sat in the stands, watching the other grades compete.
She told her friends about what had happened while she was brushing her teeth, only to be thrown into confusion by reactions she hadn't expected.
"Seoha? Lie? Are you sure it's not you making that up?"
First there was Nayun, who refused to believe Seoha would ever do such a thing.
"You know how it is — you forget to brush if you don't do it right away. Seoha only said it because she was thinking of you."
Then Hasol, emphasizing that it had been a white lie told out of kindness.
"Wait, you were going to skip brushing? Gross."
And finally Suyeon, delivering nothing but pure condemnation.
There was no one on Yeoncheong's side anywhere.
That was how spotless Seoha's image and reputation were — and, at the same time, just how hard Yeoncheong's credibility had been hit from being teased so relentlessly.
With a slightly sulky expression, Yeoncheong shut her mouth and turned her eyes to the chicken fight unfolding on the field below.
"Yeoncheong, you're sulking, aren't you?"
"I'm not sulking."
The chicken fight was a 3rd-year event. Class representatives fought a survival match on the field, hopping on one leg until only one person remained.
"Hey, I think she's actually sulking."
"Baek Suyeon, that 'gross' was too much, even for you."
"Hah? You guys all took Seoha's side too, didn't you?"
Unlike the sections where the 1st- and 2nd-years sat, the 3rd-year stands were loud with cheering voices.
Before long, fewer than ten 3rd-years were left standing on one leg in the field.
The student referees narrowed the arena, and the ten fighters began crowding together. Brows drew tighter and tighter. It was an intense atmosphere — Yeoncheong was completely absorbed in it — when Suyeon crept up beside her.
"Yeoncheong... you're really not sulking?"
"Ah! I said I'm not. Just watch the match."
The swaying fighters, bumping into each other back and forth, toppled one by one. And in the end, a 3rd-year in a Hawaiian shirt stood alone, tall and triumphant, having weathered every last attack.
Oh... he actually held out without falling. Does that guy do sports or something?
His victory confirmed, the 3rd-year took a pair of sunglasses from a friend and crossed his arms.
Wow, his aggro game is insane.
As the 3rd-year threw a victory pose toward the stands, his eyes met Yeoncheong's. He flashed a V-sign, and Yeoncheong tilted her head.
"Yep, she's definitely sulking."
"Then how about Suyeon's the one who has to make it up to her? She said the harshest thing, after all."
"Sounds good to me."
"You guys are just dumping this all on me?"
While Yeoncheong had been absorbed in the 3rd-years' fierce chicken fight, the matter of her feelings had been settled without her even knowing it.
Then came the afternoon basketball semifinals, and Yeoncheong noticed something different.
It was her friends' cheering — Suyeon's especially.
The moment she so much as touched the ball, her friends would raise their voices in support, calling her name as if she'd become some star player.
At first she'd wondered why anyone needed to shout her actual name just to cheer, but as it kept up, it honestly felt good.
Compliment can make even a whale dance, and it had Yeoncheong soaring.
Faster than she'd been in the morning, she led the charge, and her class brushed past their semifinal opponents with ease to arrive at the finals.
Right after came the 2nd-year group jump rope and the three-legged race, so Yeoncheong and her friends headed to the field without a moment to spare.
Hasol, their class representative, was off drawing their order in the lineup, when Suyeon crept up and asked:
"Yeoncheong, how are you feeling?"
Needless to say, Yeoncheong — who had just given her all in the basketball game — had no mood to speak of, nor even the breath to speak with. She waved a hand weakly to signal she was worn out.
Suyeon let out a short, strangled "ah," shot her a cautious glance, then scurried off toward Hasol, who was returning from the draw.
Brushing the strands of hair off her face and fanning herself with her hand, Yeoncheong tilted her head.
What was that about? Why is she acting like that?
Just as the chicken fight belonged to the 3rd-years, the group jump rope was a 2nd-year-only event.
For Class 2-1, Nayun and Hasol turned the rope while ten girls, Suyeon among them, jumped inside it.
Expectations weren't high.
For the sake of fairness, every class had borrowed ropes and practiced, so the total volume of practice was roughly even across the board. On top of that, the group jump rope roster was packed with classmates who had sworn off exercise just as thoroughly as they had at dodgeball.
It was a situation where hope simply couldn't be conjured.
But then, unexpected slumps — and unexpected triumphs — are part of what makes a sports festival fun.
"Waaaah!"
"Third place!"
As their classmates rejoiced over the points earned, Yeoncheong stared in astonishment.
By unlucky draw they'd been the very first to compete, yet Class 1's record had held up in the rankings until the very end.
Hasol and Nayun's rope-turning rhythm was beyond anything she'd imagined, but if you had to name an MVP, it was Suyeon.
Following Suyeon's throat-ripping calls, the other nine girls moved as one body. The judgment of exactly when to jump was left entirely to Suyeon; the rest simply moved as their bodies told them — and it showed.
The other classes seemed to recognize it as a good strategy and tried copying it, but accounting for everyone's slightly different jump heights, and calibrating for the split-second lag between hearing a call and reacting, took practice.
It wasn't something you could manage just by watching once.
The girls came back beaming with pride, and Yeoncheong clapped for them in congratulations.
"Good work out there, Suyeon. Want some water?"
The cheering, and then the jump-rope calls on top of it — just imagining it made her own throat hurt. Yeoncheong held out a bottle of water.
"It's a new one, huh?"
Suyeon took the water anyway, so her outstretched hand wouldn't hang there awkwardly, though her head tilted almost imperceptibly. It was the look of someone wondering why this girl was acting nice when she clearly hadn't been forgiven yet.
When the announcement called for three-legged race competitors, Yeoncheong stood — and caught an expression she'd never seen on her before.
Some events, like the group jump rope and the chicken fight, were limited to specific grades. Others had every grade in the school competing together.
The three-legged race on day one was one of those. It was, in particular, a perennial favorite at Hwaryeong High that never left the program, year after year.
When Yeoncheong came out to the field to prepare, an awkward laugh slipped out of her mouth.
"That was you earlier, Unnie?"
Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses — Seoyun Unnie, dressed like a man begging the weather gods for mercy, pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.
"You saw that. Pretty cool, right?"
"You're... going to run in that?"
Yeoncheong's reaction was lukewarm at best. Seoyun shrugged.
"Obviously. That's when it earns its keep, right? Gotta get my money's worth."
It was one thing to laugh at from a distance. Standing next to it was a whole different problem.
"What about you, though? Aren't you wearing your class T-shirt?"
"I have to run, so I changed."
Seoyun whined that she wanted to see the class T-shirt. Yeoncheong changed the subject.
"Running with a 1st-year isn't going to—"
"Obviously not. Those kids have all been practicing their timing together too."
Seoyun cut her off, blocking every escape route.
Yeoncheong resigned herself quickly, bent her knee, and they tied their ankles together. Seoyun's face was already blooming with smiles, as if she were looking forward to it.
"We're the final runners. You know that, right?"
"I know. Don't worry."
Ready to go, Yeoncheong and Seoyun moved to the last position as the event organizers directed.
The students burst from the starting signal. Some pairs jogged off in a clumsy shuffle; others clattered along, hobbling out of step.
"I'll take the baton."
"Okay."
As the runners changed over, the class that had been leading began getting caught, little by little. It was a dogged pursuit — challengers whose competitive fire flared at the sight of the gap ahead.
Watching the runners close in, Yeoncheong and Seoyun started their own preparations.
"Unnie."
"Yeah?"
"Do you really have to hold it there?"
Yeoncheong pointed with her eyes at Seoyun's hand, which had settled just below her armpit.
"You held it there in practice too. Why are you making it weird now?"
The T-shirt was thinner than her uniform, which somehow made the hand feel even closer.
This was the same Seoyun Unnie who would rather die than put an arm around someone's shoulder. Yeoncheong had plenty she wanted to say, but she swallowed it all to focus on the race.
The front-runners passed by first, trading their batons, and a beat behind them, Class 1's pair appeared from the middle of the pack.
"I'm sorry!"
The 1st-year junior and her classmate apologized to Seoyun as they handed it off. Seoyun accepted the baton without a word and glanced sideways at Yeoncheong.
Yeoncheong was already staring straight ahead.
Seoyun's right foot and Yeoncheong's left stretched forward in perfect unison. Then the opposite feet came down with exactly the same stride, and—
"WAAAAH!!!"
A roar erupted from the stands.
These were the two who had been tying their ankles together at every spare moment, come hell or high water. She hated to admit it, but admit it she had to: all that joke of a practice had actually paid off.
Seoyun and Yeoncheong shot forward as if they were a single runner. In one burst they rose to the front of the middle pack, then began closing the gap to the leaders.
The distance shrank.
The students of the class ahead screamed at their runners to go faster, while Class 1's students chanted the two girls' names, lending them strength.
The moment they caught up with — and overtook — the gap that had seemed it would never close, gasps and cheers crossed in the air.
"Hey, second place is still great. We passed how many teams?"
"First was right there though..."
The great comeback had fallen short, with the finish line right in front of them.
As Seoyun soothed the grumbling Yeoncheong, Suyeon and the others came over. Suyeon greeted Seoyun first.
"Good work, Unnie. That was so close."
"Close is right. Which is why this one's still muttering over here."
Seoyun tilted her head and bonked it lightly against Yeoncheong's. Watching this, Suyeon stopped her.
"Unnie, you shouldn't do that. Yeoncheong's sulking because your teasing went past the limit today."
At Suyeon's words, both of them lifted their heads.
"Teasing has a limit that can be passed?"
"Wait, I'm sulking?"
Hasol, standing nearby, asked again.
"Yeoncheong, you're not sulking?"
"What would I even be sulking about?"
It had been ages since Yeoncheong had vented about the lunchtime incident, and now she was the one wearing a question mark on her face.
Suyeon, Nayun, and Hasol's eyes met. The moment they realized they'd been worrying over nothing, the about-face came fast.
"Ah... and here I was worried you were mad."
"Right."
"She's been fine after every other prank. What a waste of worry."
Seoyun Unnie, who had been quietly listening to the three of them, cut in.
"So it wasn't past the limit, then?"
Yeoncheong, her ankles still bound together with nowhere to run, couldn't escape. Seoyun flashed a wicked grin.
Yeoncheong bent one knee and started untying the strap. But it had been tied so tight that the knot wouldn't budge.
"Guys? Can someone come undo this strap on my ankle?"
Despite the unease creeping into Yeoncheong's voice, the three girls kept chatting among themselves and drifted away.
"Hey! Help me out here!"
Those were the last words Yeoncheong would speak that day.