Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(33)

Pulling free, she took a few steps toward the field below where a dozen boys and girls ran across the grass in a game of soccer. “How do they have enough time to eat and play?”

“They don’t. They usually skip lunch so they’ll have enough time for a game.”

“Why would they do that for something so trivial?”

“To them it’s not.” Jihoon shrugged as he watched the game, too. “When something’s important to you, you’re willing to give up a lot for it. This is the only time they have to play.”

“I don’t understand why kids go through so much effort for such things,” Miyoung said. “What will it help them gain?”

“It’s not to gain anything.” Jihoon laughed. “It’s just for fun. Sometimes you need to stop thinking so hard about what you get out of life and have fun.”

“Fun is a human luxury,” Miyoung muttered, trying to hide her resentment. She hated that she envied these kids whose only worry was whether they’d have enough time for a game of soccer.

“You’re part human, too.” Jihoon’s words were quiet, but they struck deep.

Not because he reminded her she was part human, but because he reminded her that part of her was not.

“I didn’t realize we could come out here for lunch,” Miyoung said. It was a good place to get away from the suffocating crowd of the cafeteria.

“It’s getting cold,” Jihoon said, glancing at the blazing sun overhead.

“That doesn’t affect me,” Miyoung said with a shrug.

“Really?” Jihoon asked, fascination too clear in his voice. She wasn’t used to someone being so blatantly interested in her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Standing here?”

She sucked in a breath, holding it before she said something she’d regret. “Why do you insist on acting out this charade of fake friendship?”

Jihoon’s brows knit. “It’s not fake. We are friends.”

“I don’t make a good friend.”

Jihoon let out a chuckle. “Well, I’m okay with having a bad friend. So I guess we’re agreed.” He walked back inside, and she held in a scream of frustration.

“What does that even mean?” she called after him.

He didn’t look back and just lifted a hand in a friendly wave as the bell rang for class.





13





MIYOUNG’S DAYS SLOWLY became routine. She was a fan of order. It ensured that there were no unforeseen variables. If she knew what each day would bring, she could better control her world.

However, it felt strange to have a routine while a ticking time bomb sat in her pocket. The yeowu guseul was a heavy reminder that her days were not completely normal.

Jihoon, on the other hand, was completely random. He never did anything consistently. He liked to goof off in class or sleep, but never with any rhyme or reason. More often than not, he’d be in the computer lab instead of class because he went there to play games.

Jihoon had an odd skill for getting away with doing as little work as possible and staying in the teachers’ good graces. Probably because he had a wickedly boyish face with an equally mischievous grin. It worked well to get him his way.

She hardly spoke to anyone during the school day. It was one of her top coping mechanisms. Ignore everyone until they started ignoring her, too. The only exception was Jihoon. He would say casual hellos to her in the hallway. Invite her constantly to sit with him and his friends at lunch (the accompanying glares from Somin would have stopped her if she hadn’t already started eating lunch alone on the outside steps).

But the only place she couldn’t avoid Jihoon was the bus. It had become a strange part of her routine. He’d always sit beside her, babbling about his day, asking her questions about hers. And when she didn’t answer, he’d just keep rambling on.

It was an odd, new experience, to have someone who sat with her, talked with her. And annoyed the living daylights out of her.

She started to recognize his small habits. How he tapped his fingers against any surface, a mindless action. How he accepted everyone and in turn people gravitated toward him. Even Miyoung, though she hated to admit it, was starting to feel more comfortable around him.

Making her way out of the school building, Miyoung scanned the courtyard. Not to look for a specific person, she told herself, but when she didn’t see a lanky form with ruffled hair, she was disappointed. Jihoon had been held after class to talk to the teacher. He was a horrible student, almost laughably bad.

Miyoung walked out the school gates, shuffling her feet. She felt oddly reluctant to leave, like being outside of campus meant it would be harder for Jihoon to find her. Which was ridiculous, as the bus stop was within view of the front steps. She settled against the bus shelter.

Two boys ambled up, leaning against the opposite side of the glass. One was tall, with pointed features, like a rat. The other was wide, a lumbering boy. The taller, ratty boy slapped a pack of cigarettes against his palm. They were banned on school grounds, but perhaps the boy felt confident since he stood several meters outside of campus. Miyoung practically felt his stare on her and ignored them both.

She craned her neck to the side to see if Jihoon was coming out of the school.