Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(28)

Yena leaned forward, peering into Miyoung’s lowered eyes.

For a minute, she worried her mother saw through her skull to the secrets she hid. But Miyoung knew that, despite the myths, gumiho who read minds were long extinct.

“Miyoung, who are you?”

Miyoung almost gave a sigh of relief, but instead exhaled deliberately slow. “Gu Yena’s daughter,” she replied to the familiar question.



“And what does that make you?”

“Smart.”

“And?”

“Beautiful.”

“And?”

“Strong.”

“Good.” Yena nodded, satisfied. “You should not let the mortals affect you. My daughter is better than that. And I expect better things from you than getting into petty scuffles with your classmates.”

It was said as more of a command than a comfort, but still gave Miyoung strength.

“I’m sorry for causing problems today, Mother.”

“I know,” Yena said, and left Miyoung alone with only the sound of her drama as company.





11





IF JIHOON EXPECTED Miyoung to act differently toward him at school, he was wrong. She ignored him all morning.

It was an uneventful day, if you didn’t count the many times he was distracted by the mere presence of the gumiho. She didn’t acknowledge their conversation from the night before. Jihoon found himself wondering whether she’d forgotten all about it. Then he realized that he was acting the same way a lovesick fool would and decided it best to carry on as he normally would, which meant napping through English class and skipping out to play video games. But he’d continued to sit watching the back of Miyoung’s head as she scratched out furious notes.

“Don’t you think quiet girls are so cool?” Changwan mused at lunch.

Jihoon glanced over to see what his friend was staring at. He shouldn’t have bothered. Changwan was looking at a lone Miyoung, sitting in the corner of the lunchroom and resolutely ignoring all the students who tried to approach her. Well, at least Jihoon wasn’t the only one she wouldn’t talk to.

If loneliness were a flavor, Jihoon could taste Miyoung’s like a bitter aftertaste that sat on his tongue. It wasn’t just that she refused to engage other students in conversation; it was the way her shoulders hunched. How her face pinched and her hands clenched. As if the very act of socializing caused her physical pain.

After school, Changwan abandoned Jihoon for the new afterschool academy his father had signed him up for. Which meant no distracting video games to help him ignore his worries. So Jihoon leaned against the glass of the bus shelter and pulled out a pair of headphones while he debated just going to the PC room alone. He had a good view of the school gates and recognized Miyoung’s smooth gait as she exited. Pretending to fiddle with his phone, he watched her slow approach to the bus shelter. He pinpointed the moment she recognized him among the students waiting by the pause in her step. Then she continued forward and took a seat on the bench, never acknowledging his presence.

Jihoon let his head rest against the glass and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She sat staring straight ahead. He didn’t know why it looked so odd until he realized everyone had their eyes glued to their phones. Everyone except Miyoung and a group of students chattering at the other end of the bus stop.

“I heard she got kicked out of her last school,” said a boy short enough to look like he was still a first year. He had a sprinkle of freckles on an upturned nose and a pointed chin. He reminded Jihoon of devious elves from his halmeoni’s stories.

The group shot dagger glances at Miyoung. Their vitriol seemed overblown. Miyoung had only been at their school for two days. What could she have done to warrant such hatred?

“I heard she got kicked out of the last three schools,” said a girl as she sucked on a lollipop, clicking it against her teeth as she spoke. Jihoon recognized them as friends of Baek Hana, a crew that used intimidation and rumors to maintain their popularity. Miyoung slumped low in her seat, as if she’d become invisible if she were small enough.

“I heard that’s not even her real face.” The girl had a slight lisp from the large braces decorating her teeth. They made her lips puff out and gave her a disposition more sour than the cherry lollipop she sucked on. “She definitely got plastic surgery.”

“You’re totally right. I can see the surgery scar,” said the boy.

Fed up, Jihoon pulled his headphones from his ears and held them out to Miyoung.

When she only stared at them, he pushed them into her ears himself. She jerked back at the sudden contact, but he persisted until she wore the earbuds.

Miyoung looked up, perplexed.

He gave her a grin and a shrug by way of explanation. Then went back to leaning against the bus shelter.

She lowered her head, but she kept the headphones in.

The bus pulled up, and the catty clique boarded. Miyoung stood, but Jihoon held her back.

“Let’s wait for the next one.” He gestured toward the back window where the gossipers glared from their seats. Miyoung didn’t reply, but she let the bus pull away without them.

“Why would you wear headphones without music?” She handed back the silent earbuds.

“If I listen to music, I can’t hear what other people are talking about.”