Seventeen, and the Events (1)
Once midterms were over, the class atmosphere turned into party central again. But this time, it wasn't just because the exams had ended. The sports day and festival were right around the corner.
Our school has this weird tradition of not separating the two events—instead, they cram them both together right after midterms. Some kids had slacked off on studying because they were too busy with preparations, and sure enough, plenty of them were having meltdowns when the report cards came out.
I like the festival itself, but just thinking about sports day—or whatever you call it—makes me sigh. With a body like this, what could I possibly do well... Sigh.
Still, I was a little excited for the festival. Our class decided to run a café. The kids were already racking their brains over how to decorate the classroom, passing notes back and forth during class about menus and interiors until they got caught. Expectations were sky-high. Especially among the girls more than the boys. The teachers seemed to know it too—they'd point it out but never really scolded anyone harshly. Oh, and apparently even the third-years prepping for college entrance exams get a pass that day. Events like this are best when the whole school enjoys them together.
At home, I brought up sports day and the festival with the family. Everyone seemed excited and said it'd be fun, but busy Mom and Dad apologized, saying they probably couldn't make it to watch. I was a bit disappointed, but I didn't whine about it. They're busy for my sister and me, after all. So instead, I'll take lots of photos to show them.
Sis said she might not make sports day but could squeeze in time for the festival, and she double-checked which class I was in. When she comes, I'll ask the kids to give her extra service. Oh, and I mentioned the festival to ajusshi too. The problem is outsiders who aren't family aren't allowed in, so he couldn't come even if he wanted to. It'd be ridiculous for him to take off work just to see me anyway.
"Yeah... Have fun, then..."
His voice over the phone sounded oddly relieved for some reason. Lately, ajusshi's been acting strange. Hesitant, maybe? Or like he has a lot on his mind... Anyway, his voice just seemed full of worry these days. I thought about sending him tons of photos from sports day and the festival, but he freaked out and flat-out refused. Why?
Before I knew it, time had flown by with those thoughts swirling. With the festival approaching, our classroom was gradually taking on a café vibe.
First, we pushed all the desks that were usually lined up in rows to the sides and grouped them in twos and threes to make small tables. We covered them with tablecloths or spreads brought from home—checks and florals all mixed together, a bit messy to look at but kinda café-like. More like a pop-up café, maybe?
On one side of the blackboard, we taped up black construction paper to make it look like a menu board and wrote drink names and prices in white chalk. The handwriting was crooked, but it somehow looked legit.
In the corner of the room, they were setting up a photo zone by hanging a big sheet of fabric on the wall and placing two chairs side by side in front. It was still unfinished and a little shabby, but watching the classroom take shape bit by bit during breaks got me unexpectedly hyped.
By the way, I was assigned to hall serving. I heard I might do some customer greeting too, but probably not much.
Apart from festival prep, the sports field was already buzzing with sports day preparations. White chalk lines were drawn all over the ground, and test broadcasts crackled unevenly from the speakers.
Even without signing up, kids were getting dragged into events because they needed more bodies. Naturally, there were always a couple grumbling about not liking their assigned events. And I was one of them.
On the morning of sports day, the school field was already chaotic. Everyone was in gym clothes instead of uniforms. Some mixed winter pants with summer tops, others went full short-sleeve and shorts. I, of course, was head to toe in winter gym gear. Aside from avoiding the summer stuff, the weather was surprisingly cool—perfect fit.
Sports day rules: max two events per student. One individual, one group. And I drew the short straw—100m dash and tug-of-war.
For someone with zero confidence in running or strength, both were exactly what I wanted to avoid. My luck with the draw was abysmal.
The day flew by faster than expected. I sat in my assigned spot, watching classmates compete and checking the 100m start time over and over. Just thinking about running made my legs ache already.
As time ticked on, I saw kids gathering at the 100m track. Groups lined up at the start, burst forward on the signal, and cheers erupted near the finish line. It repeated like clockwork.
Finally, my group's number was called. I stood and walked to the track, the gravel crunching loudly under my sneakers.
Staring down at the starting line from my spot, that white line looked ridiculously thick. The stretching sounds from kids on either side, the cheers from behind—it all hit at once, making my ears ring.
I took a deep breath, bent at the waist like the others, and toed the line.
Bang! The gun went off, and we all exploded forward. But not even a second later, the kids beside me started pulling ahead one by one.
I ran desperately, eyes fixed ahead, but the gaps between their backs never closed. Gritting my teeth, I fought back hot tears at the corners of my eyes. This short limbs of mine...
In the end, I came in dead last, proudly so. Gasping for air, barely able to stand, friends rushed over, patting my back and handing me water.
"You okay, Seojin? Good job."
"Here, drink some water."
They all comforted me, but it didn't magically fix my mood.
"Why'd she get stuck with running..."
I vaguely heard someone mutter from afar. As I turned, the kids around me glared daggers that way. A boy noticed, shut his mouth tight, and slunk back.
Watching that, even with my breath still ragged, a laugh slipped out first.
Back at my seat, I was drenched in sweat from forehead to toes. Pathetic—I barely ran and I'm like this.
I lifted the hem of my gym shirt a bit to wipe the sweat from my stomach. The breeze on the exposed skin finally brought some cool relief.
Shouldn't have worn the winter stuff...
Then Kim Yuha suddenly approached and handed me an ion drink.
"...Good job."
"Oh, thanks."
I wiped the sweat from my hands roughly and took the bottle carefully. Kim Yuha turned his head, looking anywhere but at me. Tired, maybe? Whatever.
A few gulps of the cool drink sliding down my throat made me feel alive again. Brushing back the hair sticking to my face with the back of my hand, I worried about the upcoming tug-of-war.
Tug-of-war: five boys and five girls per class, total ten. Lined up by height, so shortest me ended up at the very front gripping the rope.
Well... yeah, put the strong ones in the back. Still, being frontmost made me feel like dead weight, dragging my mood down.
Then Kang Mincheol's voice came from behind. "Hey, don't stress too much."
Guess my gloom was obvious. But that simple line lightened my heart immensely.
The whistle blew, and we all yanked at once. I leaned back with everything I had, but no power came like I hoped.
Gripping tight so the rope wouldn't slip from my arms, my soles kept sliding on the dirt. I flailed, nearly falling several times. All I could do was grit my teeth to hold back tears.
"Urghhh...!"
Straining my eyes, pulling hard, I locked eyes with a few kids at the front of the other team's line. Not wanting to lose, I clung on with a teary face.
They widened their eyes briefly, then awkwardly looked away. Their side's tension visibly slackened. The taut rope slid toward us, then suddenly gave way all at once.
It ended so abruptly, I felt empty at first—like, did we really win? But the realization hit late: we did.
I high-fived classmates and hopped around celebrating. Glancing over casually, I met eyes with the other team again. Surprisingly, no hard feelings—they just gave wry smiles my way.
"Good work!"
A couple even waved as they walked off. Totally lost on the situation, question marks popped over my head.
"You guys too—good job!"
I waved back on impulse, and they all grinned happily. Still young, but great sportsmanship all around. Good kids.