F

eet shuffled across the courtyard, sneakers and flip

flops and sandals against the scorching black pavement.

Voices rose and fell periodically, calls of “Hey!” and

“How was your summer?” rippling through the air.

Hands reached out to tap shoulders, heads turned

around in greeting, arms circled each other in hugs.

In the middle of it all, a girl stood alone. Her hands gripped the straps

of her teal backpack. She turned her head from side to side, watching

as kids talked about their camping trips and trips to Disney World and

world-traveling to London or Paris or Barcelona.

The bell rang, and the students moved forward to the open doors,

jostling the girl a little as she followed them into the belly of the beast,

where she would have to navigate on her own through the unknown

hallways and classrooms and students.

***

“OK, everyone, settle down, settle down.”

The kids all plopped down into their desks, watching their homeroom

teacher for the new year, Ms. Smith, pull up the attendance sheet.

“Ah, it looks like we’ve got a new student this year!” She lifted the

paper closer to her face, eyes squinting slightly as she adjusted her

reading glasses.

The girl with the teal backpack gulped, already waiting for what was

coming, what every new teacher she had at her old school went through.

“
Jee — Ji? — Ji yee own Lee?”

“It’s Jiyeon,” her voice squeaked, and everyone turned around to stare

at her. She said it like Jee-yun. “But you can just call me Jen.”

“Ah, Jen! Much easier. Well, welcome to Brook Hills Middle School,

Jen. I’m going to go through the rest of the attendance, so please let me

know if anyone else wants to be called something different or have a

nickname you’d like to be called.”

Jen slumped in her chair, taking a deep breath as Ms. Smith read

through the list. Her face felt hot.

“OK! Now for some icebreakers. I want you all to turn to the person

next to you and talk about something fun you did this summer.”

Jen turned to the boy to her right, who was wearing a New York

Yankees hat. He pointed to the hat. “I went to a Yankees game this

summer. It was really cool. My dad and I got to sit in like really close to

the front probably like four rows away from the field, and Derek Jeter hit

a homerun, and they won.”

“That’s cool,” Jen said. She didn’t know much about baseball, but she

did know who the Yankees were. Everyone knew who the Yankees were,

even her parents. “I went to summer camp at the YMCA for a few weeks

this summer.”

“Cool,” he said, though to Jen it looked like he was still thinking about

Derek Jeter’s home run. There was a pause. Then, “So where are you

from?”

“Oh, I’m from a small town in Pennsylvania. It’s only a few hours

away from here.”

The boy looked confused, his eyebrows scrunched together. “No, I

mean, like, where are you actually from?”

Now it was Jen’s turn to be confused. “Like, in Pennsylvania?”

The boy threw his hands up in the air. “No, I mean like, in Asia. Like

are you from China?”

“Oh,” Jen understood now. “I mean, I was born in Pennsylvania but

my parents moved from South Korea two years before I was born.”

“Oh,” The boy said. They were both silent.

“OK! Looks like everyone’s done with the icebreaker.” Ms. Smith,

thankfully, broke up the silence before it could grow any longer. “Make

sure to meet back here every morning so we can take homeroom

attendance.” The bell rang. “Have a good rest of the first day!”

***

The rest of Jen’s classes before lunch went basically the same way.

Teachers and the trouble with her name, other students asking where

she was really from, awkward silences. She couldn’t wait until lunch, so

she could have a break from it all.

She went to her locker and pulled out her lunch box, a bright pink one

to clash against her bright teal backpack.

The girl at the locker next to her turned to her and scrunched up her

nose, making a face. “What is that smell?”

Jen could feel her cheeks getting hot again. “Oh, sorry — I think it

might be from my lunch.”

The girl pinched her nose. “What could you possibly eat that would

make it smell like that?”

Jen shrugged, throwing her lunchbox back into her locker and

closing the door shut. “Maybe the heat’s making it smell like that,” she

said, though she knew that wasn’t it.

The girl fanned the air in front of her face. “Well thank God you closed

that locker door.” She walked away. Jen waited a few seconds before

walking behind her, to the crowded cafeteria.

She found herself alone, again, in the middle of a crowded room,

students passing her by with black trays filled with pizzas or hamburgers

or salads, or kids clutching lunchboxes or brown paper bags. They all

turned to glance at her and her lunch-less hands, but soon turned away

to go find others to sit with.

A girl with curly brown hair came to her side. “You’re Jen, right? The

new girl?”

Jen nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Do you want to come sit with us?” She jerked her head toward a

round table near the cafeteria doors, where three other girls sat, talking

animatedly.

Jen felt a wave of relief course through her and nodded, smiling at the

girl. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

“Cool,” the girl smiled back, and they walked toward the table. “I’m

Callie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Callie,” she replied as they sat down at the table,

the other girls looking at them.

“Everyone,” Callie announced, “this is Jen. She’s new and in my

homeroom class. Jen, this is Mary, Leslie and Julia.”

“Hi,” Jen said, smiling at each of them.

“Where’s your lunch?” The girl called Leslie asked, taking a bite out

of her pizza.

“Oh,” her stomach dropped. “I forgot it this morning. Almost missed

the bus.”

“Aw, that really sucks,” Callie said. “You can have one of my cheese

sticks if you want.” She held one out to her — the twisty kind that Jen

always ate.

Her stomach grumbled, but she shook her head. “That’s OK, I can

wait until after school.” She stopped for a beat, then remembered:

“Thank you, though.”

***

“Hi, Jiyeon, how was your first day of school?” Her mother kissed her

on the cheek as she plopped down to sit at the kitchen table, legs splayed

out in front of her.

“It was OK,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. She heard her mom

unzip her backpack, and before it was too late, she had already taken out

her untouched lunch.

“What happened? Why didn’t you eat your lunch?” Her mother held

the pink lunchbox out in front of her, dangling it like a cat’s toy.

Jen gulped. “Sorry. I wasn’t really that hungry.”

Her mother tsked. “Not eating on the first day! That’s bad for you. You

must be so hungry now. Here, eat it.” She slid the lunchbox across the

table.

Jen opened it up, feeling bad. She knew her mother woke up

at six o’clock every morning — she did this at her other school —

taking time to cook the rice to fluffy perfection, fold the kimchi

into a different container (she liked to eat her foods separately),

and pack it with a different kind of banchan — side dish — every

day. She quickly ate the rice and kimchi, soothing her growling

stomach.

“Did you meet some nice kids? Make any friends yet?”

Jen swallowed, the rice sticking a little too long in her throat.

Images of the boy in the Yankee hat and the girl at the locker flew

by in her mind. But she also remembered Callie.

“Sort of,” she said, chewing. “Yeah.”

Her mother nodded, kissing the top of her head. “That’s great

to hear. Well, I’ve got to get back to work in my office. Call me if

you need anything.”

Her mom left, and once she heard the front door close and

the car’s engine rev and the wheels of her mom’s car skid out the

driveway, she let her first tear fall.

Runs through the book is a dark poem

The black foot that throttle

Drinking

Grumbling

Brawling

Troubled brother who lived

At more intimately full rivers

Trout and flying fish

But more tragic death

The story brutal beating

His body left in a dark alley

About the family who loved him

But couldn’t save him

Haunted man being

Found the book published

When he was 73

Drawn from personal experience

In my family flying fish

Are spiritual dimensions

Communicating in disasters

He talks

About going to the river

Because he couldn’t stay anywhere else

Do you remember the last time you went fishing with your father?

Tears in his eyes

Drove up a road that spirals high above the river

We stopped

The Black Foot runs straight

Erupts

Rifles

Then slams into the mountain

After crawling to a deep hole

Repeats its cadence

Away in time

The book is written

To this rhythm

Finished my question

About father’s last fishing trip

He sat down

Tired

I could get you something

To drink for him

A drink

I fixed it

Didn’t taste good to him

Old fisher man

Silent in movement

He’ll never land

He was silent

Trout fishing

Learn

To

Read

The

Water

Cruising fish makes soft kiss

A rise

Beneath the surface

Rings mark

The soft kiss

Rise

Wednesday, March 15, 2017 // The Statement
6B

ILLUSTRATION BY ERIN TOLAR

First Day
Blue and Green

Love

BY MONICA KIM, LSA Freshman

BY JANICTON FRAME, MBA Student