Seventeen, and Spring (5)
I fought with my sister via text every single break. I'd send one message, she'd fire back something provocative, I'd provoke her right back, and if it hit a nerve, I'd tack on an extra line just to mess with her. The exchanges weren't long, but every time I saw one of her messages, my blood boiled.
During class, the textbook words didn't register at all.
She said she wanted to meet him too, and now...
Then the bell for fourth period rang. It was math time. With the screech of chalk, the teacher started writing a problem on one side of the board.
"Alright, who wants to solve this? Hmm... the first desk by the window, front row... Kwon Minjae?"
The kid in front of me shoved back his chair and stood, shoulders hunched awkwardly as he shuffled forward. He stood there staring for a while, picked up the chalk, wrote something, then erased it, repeating the process. Finally, the teacher sighed.
"Tch... okay, sit down. Next one."
Next one. Window row, first line, second seat. Me.
"Yoon Seojin."
My name echoed through the classroom. The sudden call made tension shoot through me. I pushed back my chair and walked to the front.
Standing in front of the board, the green surface smeared with chalk dust filled my vision. The problem wasn't that hard.
Oh, I've seen this one before.
This high school was the second of my life. I'd been in Yoon Seojin's body since fifth grade. Even with changes in the curriculum, most of it was stuff I'd encountered before, so it wasn't completely alien. That let me keep up through middle school without too much trouble. But toward the end of third year, it started getting tougher.
Come to think of it, even before all this, I wasn't some study genius. Just middling—not scraping the bottom, but not top-tier either. The kind of skill where if I tried hard, I'd hit average or better. Ambiguous like that.
Still, this problem was one I could solve in my head the moment I saw it. I grabbed the chalk and reached naturally for the empty space below.
But—
Ugh, I'm screwed...
Standing right there at the board, one issue hit me. The writing spot was higher than I thought. I stretched my arm, but the chalk tip scraped air just shy of touching. Even on tiptoes, I barely grazed the bottom edge. I tensed my calves hard, but it still fell short by a hair.
Why'd you have to write it at the very top...
No choice. I took a deep breath and started hopping in place. Jump—stretch my hand all the way, barely scratching a number onto the board. Boing, tap— boing, tap-tap— one jump per number, another for the symbol. One more leap to open the parenthesis. Every time the chalk hit, my waist bobbed up and down.
"Kuh, kuh..."
A weird cough-like sound leaked from the back. Then laughter followed.
"Whoa, our bunny hops real good!"
A whisper tickled right behind my ear. That sparked it—laughter spread one by one.
The kids are getting rowdy, what the hell is the teacher doing...
I swallowed the heat rising to my head, gripped the chalk tight, and kept solving. When I scrawled the final number, my arm was trembling. My legs wobbled too.
"Hah... hah..."
I caught my ragged breath, set the chalk aside, and said, "D-done..."
I wiped sweat from my forehead and turned, but the teacher had her head turned slightly, hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook bit by bit.
"Pfft... good job. Back to your seat."
Her voice strained to hold back laughter, and my face burned. Ears and neck felt like they were on fire. I bowed once and bolted back.
The whole class stared at me. Most clamped their mouths shut and looked away, but a few girls gawked wide-eyed. The kids from middle school couldn't even hide their grins.
Don't look at me... just solve your own problems... please...
I hung my head low. My bangs fell, blocking half my view. At my seat, I gripped the chair and eased it in quietly. I didn't lift my head properly until the end of class.
After sitting, my notebook stayed open, but I didn't write a thing. Every time I tried to focus, the stifled giggles ruined it.
The lunch bell rang, and as the teacher wrapped up, the class surged to their feet. I checked my meal card and headed to the cafeteria with Hyeji next to me, Jisu, and a few others.
Problem was, before we even hit the hall, some kids glanced my way and started snickering.
"Hey, you were totally like a bunny earlier, right?"
"What was that bunny jump? Puhaha!"
Not just my middle school crew—even the class started tossing "bunny" around casually. I tried ignoring it completely as we went to the cafeteria.
Today's menu: spicy pork stir-fry. Used to love it, but now? Meh. My tastes had changed. It got boring fast, just greasy.
I loaded my metal tray with rice, pork, soup, a couple sides, and found a seat. First bite: pork over rice. The spicy sauce coated my tongue, but no thrill.
Then—
Bzzz—
A short vibration from my skirt pocket. My phone buzzed against my skin. Probably a message, but I ignored it mid-meal.
As I scooped another bite, Hyeji across from me suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Pfft..."
I looked up—she held her phone, head thrown back, fighting laughter. Curious, but figuring it was nothing, I ignored her. Chewed pork mixed with rice, chewed more.
Then Hyeji called my name, face lit with amusement.
"Hey, Seojin."
"What?" I mumbled around my spoon.
"Check the group chat."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously, holding back a grin. A chill of dread hit my chest.
"What's that about..."
I grumbled but pulled out my phone anyway. Unlocked, opened the chat app. Top of the list: our group chat, messages piled up.
I tapped in. Right at the top: a video thumbnail loomed large. Skimmed the chats below—bad vibes. Hit play.
"Next, Yoon Seojin."
The teacher's voice faintly, then me filling the screen at the board.
And—
Hop. Hop again. My short legs bounced up and down in the frame. Chalk in hand scraped the board with each jump.
My spoon hand went slack. It slid off the tilted tray.
Hyeji laughed across from me. "But it was seriously cute. Wanna hop one more time?"
I glared, lips tight. She looked away, pretending to eat.
The pork in my mouth suddenly tasted like nothing. Sauce, meat—all gone.
I scrolled the chat to the end, thumb hovering over the menu button top-right. Wanted to quit the group right then, but held back. Swiped to home, set the phone by my tray.
Half my rice left, but the spoon felt heavy. I slurped more soup instead. Hot broth went down my throat, but instead of warming me, it left me oddly cold inside.
I barely ate, poked with chopsticks a few times, then grabbed my tray alone and stood. Some pork pieces untouched—no way I could swallow more.
Heading back to class from the cafeteria, that video looped endlessly in my head.
Haa... I'm not letting this slide, for real...!
I opened the classroom door to familiar laughter inside.
"So then she— ah, dude, it was hilarious."
"You see the teacher's face?"
Back by the windows: guys clustered around three desks. Among them, arms crossed, leaning on the wall—Kim Yuha.
My feet carried me straight there. Hyeji grabbed my sleeve—didn't know she'd followed—but I shook her off. Bag still on, I marched right up and stopped in front of him.
Our eye levels were worlds apart. But after staring down Han Yeonho ajusshi up close, this maybe-170cm punk didn't intimidate anymore.
My right hand clenched naturally.
Kim Yuha finally noticed me late. "Huh? Bunny's here—"
That was it. Fingers balled tight, fist pulled back to my waist. Heart thumped hard once.
Before another thought, my body moved first.
Thwack!
My fist sank deep into Kim Yuha's solar plexus. The sharp thrill buzzed through my knuckles.
"Oof— guk!"
Kim Yuha's torso folded like a ㄱ. He clutched his chest with both arms, knees buckling as he hacked and retched.
I flexed my fist, then clenched again. Fingers stung, but inside? Clear as day. Even if I'm weak, hitting a vital spot undefended? Had to hurt.
My face relaxed without me noticing. Felt good now. Holding back had sucked—should've punched sooner.
Kim Yuha still couldn't catch his breath, coughing away. Lips half-open, he stared up at me in disbelief.
I looked down at that face, totally chill.