Kneeling for Tutoring

The weekend flew by in the blink of an eye. My time rocketed straight to Monday at the speed of light. And before I knew it, we'd reached the classroom—complete with a dreaded pop quiz tacked on.

Rustle, rustle. Test papers passed from hand to hand amid the chaos. Sure enough, someone tried sneaking a peek.

"Hey! No peeking at the papers. That's a zero!"

The homeroom teacher barked the warning. Why was he so intense over a little pop quiz? It felt like we were taking midterms under a proctor.

Once the papers were distributed to everyone, he confirmed it and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠scrawled on the blackboard.

Seeing that, I sank into thought. The other students were probably thinking the same. 1st? Did that mean there'd be a 2nd? And what was with the "Math" in parentheses?

Unaware of the shifting mood, the teacher announced, "Alright. Begin. You have 15 minutes!"

The pop quiz was underway.

Lunchtime. A quiet corner of the school rooftop.

"It's been forever since I came up here..."

I murmured, lost in sentiment. I'd been coming less lately.

I unpacked my prepped bento. Today's lunch: kimchi fried rice I'd made yesterday. A masterpiece after a long hiatus. I'd even bought special rice and adjusted each grain to keep them from getting mushy.

It wasn't wasted effort. Even a day later, the rice still glistened invitingly.

I scooped a bite with my prepared spoon. The spicy kick of kimchi and the crisp crunch of pickled radish filled my mouth.

"This is so good, I could get bombed in the middle of cooking it!"

I recalled today's history class. The teacher had shared an anecdote: some idiot soldier got killed making fried rice during war. He probably craved a taste like this. But being the jerk he was, heaven smote him.

"Urghhh."

A groan came from ahead. Park Ha-yoon stared at the triangle kimbap she'd bitten into.

"This tastes awful! Why'd they even make this?!"

She vented her frustration pointlessly. I glanced at the wrapper she'd torn open.

"......"

Ha-yoon, Ha-yoon... what does that even mean? Who'd pay for that?

Avocado mixed with rice? Even Da-eun, with her culinary disasters, wouldn't go there.

...Would she? Chocolate rice might pair with it if she tried.

As I pondered briefly, Ha-yoon's eyes flicked to me. She offered her triangle kimbap.

"Wanna trade? This is actually ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠good."

"If you're gonna lie, at least control your face."

"Wha—no?! It is good! Totally!"

Ha-yoon, such bullshit. Anyone could see it tasted bad from that bitter expression. Still, she thought she was a great actress.

So—I kept eating silently. One bite, two. On the third...

"......Huh?"

Ha-yoon's eyes widened slightly. Not at my hand, but at my emptying bento.

I didn't slow. If anything, I ate more naturally, faster.

"Hey, wait—"

Clink.

Last spoonful. I set down the spotless container.

"Thanks for the meal."

Perfect timing.

"......"

Ha-yoon blankly alternated between my bento and her kimbap.

Then—

"Haa..."

A defeated sigh escaped her. The look of someone who'd missed her chance completely.

I opened my water bottle, watching her.

"Couldn't you have fake-coughed or something?"

"I did!"

"Louder, then."

"......"

No comeback. She pouted, averted her eyes, and fake-coughed dramatically.

"Ahem."

"Now?"

"T-testing it!"

I chuckled. As I drained the bottle—

"Hey."

"What."

A brief silence. Then Ha-yoon spoke, like she wanted to say something but struggled.

"...So, yeah."

"Spit it out already."

"The pop quiz."

Oh. That. Was it that hard to bring up?

I answered casually. "It was fine."

"...Fine?"

"Yeah. Felt easy."

Instantly, Ha-yoon's face stiffened. Subtly. Very subtly.

I didn't miss it.

"...You?"

I asked. She dropped her gaze. Her fingers fiddled with the kimbap wrapper needlessly.

I continued. "How many wrong?"

"..."

"A lot?"

"...All."

"......"

I said nothing. Just stared. Quietly. As is.

"...Hey."

Her brows twitched.

"You just thought I'm dumb, right?"

"No."

I shook my head. Calling her dumb would hurt feelings. I just shared what I felt.

"I thought you're an idiot."

"That's the same!!"

"No. Totally different."

"How?!"

"Different spelling."

Ha-yoon bristled. Face red, glaring.

Whatever—she snapped, "How many'd you get right?!"

"All."

Instant reply. I'd studied over the weekend. Pop quizzes are easy by nature.

That was why I saw her as an idiot.

But my answer shocked her deeply.

"......"

"Why the 'no way' face?"

"...Joking, right?"

"Why joke about that?"

I shrugged. No point; scores come out anyway.

Short silence. A breeze passed.

Ha-yoon said nothing. Just—stood slowly.

"...Hey."

"What."

"Wait."

She walked right up—and thud.

Kneeled.

"...?"

I froze. Head bowed, hands on the ground. Perfect dogeza pose.

"Please."

"...What is this."

"Teach me... to study."

Dead serious. No joking in her voice.

I looked down at her a moment.

"...Why the sudden drama."

"There's gonna be a 2nd pop quiz..."

Ah. That.

Made sense; there were hints.

"And..." She added softly.

"I don't wanna bomb again."

"Any other reason?"

"...If this gets out, my allowance gets cut."

Obviously the latter's real. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Allowance is precious. I'm job-hunting to save mine.

Instant camaraderie. I sighed, eyeing the kneeling girl.

"Get up first."

"No."

"Why."

"Not till you say yes."

"......"

Stubborn. I pondered—

"Ask another friend?"

"Kinda awkward with Geon-woo since I rejected him..."

"...Isn't that karma?"

"I'm repenting! Help me..!"

Now clasping hands begging. How awkward to not even ask him for study help?

I sighed shallowly.

"Fine. I'll tutor you."

Short and sweet.

Her head snapped up.

"For real?!"

"One condition."

"What?! Anything!"

I thought, then said, "No offering me weird food."

"...That's it?"

"Important."

Food's always vital. She'd change her mind after one chocolate rice. No more stomach ulcers, thanks.

That mindset for my condition.

Ha-yoon blanked a sec—then pfft. Laughed.

"...Got it. No offers."

She stood, eyed her abandoned avocado kimbap.

"...Thanks for the meal!"

And ate it. Obvious disgust-face, but thumbs-up.

"This... is my token of sincerity!"

Utter nonsense. Better not understand.

Anyway, that horrific avocado kimbap's out of sight. Win.

After school. Ha-yoon and I left the school gate alone. Seol-ah had stuff to do and left early. Her face brighter than the weekend—something resolved, probably.

Our study spot—

A karaoke room. Why? How? Ha-yoon had her logic.

"Listen. Study cafes are out."

"Yeah, solo spots."

"Cafes next, but no way."

She shook her head. Cafe BGM kills focus, apparently. To me, sounds like weak will—but whatever.

Other spots vetoed. My house? Too lazy explaining to Da-eun. Hers? Parents home early, tired.

And casually—

"My dad's got a shotgun permit."

Whispered quietly. What? Warning I'd get swiss-cheesed on entry?

Chills. Her house out.

Narrowed to—

"Karaoke. Good soundproofing."

I thought it might work, entered.

"Three hours extra!"

Familiar voice. From club intros. Han So-ra. The theater bait I'd tossed to the student council president.

Eye contact.

Our eyes met.