Middle School
"How am I supposed to wear a skirt!"
"What are you even talking about? You planning to go to school in pants all by yourself?"
The hardest obstacle I had to face before entering middle school was, of all things, the uniform.
I had tried it on, at least. Standing in front of the mirror, with the hem fluttering around my legs, it looked, much as I hated to admit it, surprisingly good on me.
But there was this—what should I call it? A physiological refusal? The lower half of me felt so exposed that every time I took a step, it seemed as if a cold breeze were slipping past my calves. The sense of absence, of simply not having enough fabric there, made me hyperaware of every single movement.
And more than anything else, there was the matter of my masculinity……!
The skirt made me self-conscious in a way I couldn’t stand. When I sat down, I found myself forcing my knees together and neatly tucking my ankles in, and I couldn’t even run without restraint.
"Hiii, this is so uncomfortable."
"Well, since it’s come to this, try to behave yourself."
Mom knows absolutely nothing about my feelings!
I didn’t bother arguing about something she couldn’t possibly understand. Instead, I tried a different approach.
"Couldn’t I wear pants? Just this one time. Something special."
"Honestly, why are you like this? You’re perfectly happy wearing princess dresses at home."
"Wh-what! That’s only because Dad bought nothing but those kinds of clothes, so I had no choice but to wear them!"
"Oh, please. Like you were really wearing them against your will. Want me to play those old commercial clips from when you were little? You smiled so brightly I thought you were the reincarnation of a magical girl."
Mom’s brutal fact attack left me completely dazed.
This is unfair!
Dad had bought mostly pink, frilly clothes on his own, and I’d only worn them because it would’ve been a waste not to. Of course, they weren’t badly made, and they suited my looks, so they were even kind of fun to look at in the mirror. And it wasn’t like anyone outside the house would see me in them, so I hadn’t really cared.
But this is different! It’s a school uniform! I have to wear it every day!
"Ohoho, this student is just perfect. I’m not even kidding—she’s the best-looking kid I’ve seen while running this shop. You could totally model school uniforms~"
"Right? I’m telling you, our Chaewon even filmed commercials when she was little."
"Oh my! That’s just how it is, then~ Even the way the clothes hang on her is different~ She’s practically a celebrity! A celebrity~"
My complaints were ignored without mercy, and the uniform shop owner and my mom chatted away cheerfully among themselves before happily taking care of the payment as well.
*
The school I entered was Eunha Middle School, right next door.
The old rumor that I came from a gangster family, which had followed me around in fifth grade, had cleanly vanished by sixth grade.
After the black-history tear fest I had with Mom, I’d made a point of actively denying it too, and once the sixth graders who’d started the rumor graduated, it faded away naturally.
And as for me—by sixth grade, I’d managed to hold on to first place in the entire school, successfully creating a future drinking story along the lines of, "Ha! You think I’m nothing special? I was a genius as a kid! I never once gave up first in the whole school!"
Thanks to that, Eunha Middle School asked if I’d like to go up on stage as the representative of the new students, but I turned them down.
Being a representative felt a little too burdensome.
Because…
Shit, this is bad. I’m fuzzy on the third-year middle school material…?
No matter that I’d come back with a full dose of future higher education in my head, it was starting to get rough.
I wasn’t bad at studying, exactly, but I’d never been especially good either. I’d always been a painfully average kid in that respect.
To Mom, who never said it out loud but probably expected a lot of me anyway, I offered my sincerest advance apology.
Mom… don’t be shocked, okay?
I’ve looked over the middle school curriculum a little, and, well… your daughter’s grades may start sliding in second year, and by third year there might not be much left above the floor.
Still, don’t worry.
Your daughter is really good at farming rice.
I’m not joking—I’m seriously good at it. The only problem is that the game doesn’t come out until around my first year of high school.
I’ll make money instead.
You’re wondering what makes me so sure?
Hey, have you seen the stocks I bought back in elementary school?
I almost passed out myself.
They’d gone up tenfold.
You are keeping my 1.5 million won safe, right?
Trust me, okay? I was saving it for later, and if it’s gone… I swear, I’m going to go crooked…?
To Mom.
"Haaah……."
Unable to actually say any of that out loud, I simply lifted my face to the sky with a faint, faraway look and nodded to myself.
"Why are you standing there all forlorn?"
"Huh? When did you get here?"
Kim Siyeon had, of course, entered Eunha Middle School too.
Back when we were little, everyone just went to the school closest to where they lived.
"But why are we in the same class again? I’m sick of it."
"What?! We were in different classes in sixth grade, you know? That’s mean—I was so happy we ended up in the same class, Chaewon!"
"I never said I hated it…."
"You said you were sick of it! You said you were sick of it!"
Ugh, she’s making it kind of hard not to get tired of her.
I soothed and placated the whining Siyeon as best I could, then headed to the classroom with her.
The hem of my skirt swayed lightly as I walked.
The woman at the uniform shop had tried to meddle with the length of my skirt too, saying that girls who went around acting like they were all cute and pretty were making shorter skirts the trend.
I’d flatly refused.
I’d ended up trying on a shorter one by accident, and honestly, no. That was not happening.
Even now, with the way the fabric hung loosely, my steps still felt cautious.
God, if it were that short for real, I’d probably feel my shame rising every time I climbed a staircase.
So I had mine altered to be just a little longer than the standard length.
Maybe my stubborn insistence on wearing pants had done the trick, because Mom didn’t say a word about it either.
"Maybe I should lengthen mine too……."
Siyeon, glancing at my legs, murmured the thought to herself.
"No, no—your skirt suits you just fine."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah."
Honestly, shorter skirts do look nice when I see them with my own eyes. The problem is having to wear one myself.
Even so, Siyeon couldn’t seem to take her eyes off my skirt.
Just when I was starting to feel a little embarrassed—
"Eek?!""
Her hand suddenly shot out.
"Somehow, when Chaewon wears it, even the pleats here look really classy."
"H-hey, you little punk. W-where are you touching!"
"Huh? What’s the big deal?"
"A-about outside! A grown girl touching me like this, in public!"
"You’re overreacting over skirt fabric."
She had suddenly yanked at my skirt, and I jumped so hard I nearly screamed. For a second I seriously thought she was trying to strip me.
Are girls usually this shameless?
"Don’t be stingy. You touch it too. Here."
"I don’t need to!"
She’d been hanging off me since kindergarten, sure, but still—
We’re in middle school now! You should know better! Why are you acting so shameless?
I pressed my lips together and glared at her hard enough to drill holes in her face, and only then did she finally pull her hand away.
That didn’t mean I disliked Siyeon, though. If anything, she was practically my one and only friend.
People say friends influence each other when they spend time together, but with us it was the complete opposite.
She liked knitting and other feminine hobbies, and she kept going to hagwon classes, steadily raising her grades until she’d become a confidently high-ranking student who could casually run for class president in my place, since I didn’t want the job.
Maybe if enough time passed, Siyeon would end up overtaking a fake genius like me?
I didn’t really care enough about studying to feel jealous. If my friend was doing well, that was a good thing. Yeah.
And something I’d realized after getting assigned my class in middle school was that, while there were plenty of kids I knew from the elementary school we’d all come from, there wasn’t anyone I was as close to as Siyeon.
I guess I’d formed a shallow but wide social circle.
Not exactly on purpose.
It just turned out that way naturally.
The games I liked were better aligned with the boys, so I’d tried pretty hard to get along with them when I was in elementary school, but…
It never really worked out.
My past life had been one with no friends either, so I had no idea how to close the distance. On top of that, I could see the awkwardness in the other kids, and it stung a little…….
Once a loser gets rejected, they don’t get a second try.
As for the girls, joining their group was difficult in a completely different way.
When you were in the middle of all that giggling, before you knew it you were being surrounded, and somehow the whole situation felt embarrassing. I didn’t even know where to look.
Maybe I was showing off too much, claiming to be first in the school and all. Maybe that made the other kids uncomfortable.
After all those various steps, this was where I ended up.
The only person I could honestly call a friend was Kim Siyeon.
I wasn’t depressed about it. If anything, it was a familiar feeling, so I found it more comfortable this way.
A noble wolf? Hm, sounds kind of cool, doesn’t it?
Absolutely, I was not pretending to be cool.
Nope, not at all.
Friends were only necessary if you wanted to duel.
Anyway, these days online games were more fun.
Back in elementary school, carrying Duel King cards around had been a common sight, but the craze had died down almost as soon as we entered middle school.
I still hadn’t given up on collecting the cards, but since nobody around me played anymore, they stopped being fun.
That was probably part of why my attention had shifted so sharply to games instead.
Friends don’t only have to exist offline!
I’d always been more comfortable online anyway.
These days, my daily routine had become running straight home as soon as school ended and turning on the computer.
You could say I was pouring my life into the FPS game Dead Zone.
Today, I’m definitely clearing the 20,000 grenade kill mission!
For a little TMI:
Dead Zone had a title system.
If you reached the required kill count with a sniper rifle, a rifle, a melee weapon, or grenades, you’d get a title for each category.
And if you cleared all four, you could earn the Weapon Master title.
Plenty of people didn’t care about titles at all, but as for me, I was the type who got completely soaked in the joy of collecting them.
They appeared right above your ID too, so they were perfect for showing off.
Ding-dong-ding-dong~!
As soon as the bell rang today too, I tidied up my desk with ghostlike speed, then bolted out of the school.
The moment I got home to the empty house, I poured myself a cool glass of barley tea and sat down in front of the computer.