“Are you okay?” someone says, touching my shoulder.
I look up to see a Korean hostess bending over me, worried. I must look like...oh no! My wig! What if someone sees me?
“I’m fine,” I say, scrambling up.
The hostess smiles. “That was quite the herd of people. What happened?”
I don’t really want to tell her in case she’s a PTS fan, so I say, “It’s nothing,” with my head bowed. “I have to go,” I add, trying to run away.
“Wait!” Hostess Lady says. “You dropped this.”
She’s holding out a phone with a tan case―a color I would never pick. It must’ve gotten lost in the fan-stampede. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“You sure?” she says, “It fell out of your hat.”
My hat? I touch my head, but that just makes the hostess laugh.
“No! In your hand.”
I look at my palm and see Minji’s hat still firm in my grip. My eyes pinch closed. If the phone fell out of this hat then that means...
“I’m such an idiot,” I say, snatching the phone from her. “Must be the blonde wig.” Which I spot on the floor next to me and scoop up.
She laughs again, giving me an awkward shrug. Even though it’s mostly empty, I feel claustrophobic.
I wave the phone and start to back up. “Thanks again.”
Good thing I’m wearing sneakers today so I can run. Usually five inch heels are more my style since I’m only five-four.
When I get to my truck, I only stop long enough to fish the keys out of my pocket. I have Minji Park’s phone! He’s going to need it back for sure, and when he does, I can dress up and let him see the real me. For now, I’m going to turn it off so he can’t find it, and I’ll turn it on again in the morning when I’m ready for him to come looking for me.
Speaking of which...I wonder how I look. I put the keys in the ignition, lock the doors, and flip down the visor mirror.
“No,” I say out loud, dabbing at my face. Did Minji really see me like this? I mean, I looked pretty bad when I left, but this is unacceptable. Raccoon eyes, static hair, and a few strings from my scarf stuck to my lips. I look like I just rolled around in nasty carpet for fun.
If I didn’t know I’d get the chance to redeem myself soon I’d be exploding from my missed chance. As it is, I can just bang my head on the horn and cringe.
I have to get home, fast. Imagine if my parents saw me like this, or Abby. I would be disowned by my circle of friends. I’ll never forget the day they teased me about spilling half a drop of Coke on my pants. You’d think I had just stepped out of a barn. I don’t eat lunch at school anymore because of that. Abby’s totally anorexic so she has no problem skipping with me.
No one’s home when I get there, as usual. My parents are so busy schmoozing voters, they’re rarely around on the weekends. I run upstairs to the bathroom attached to my room and shower as fast as I can. It’s like the walls have eyes and they can see the mess I’m in.
I scrub my face twice to get rid of all the fangirl dirt.
After a night of looking like trash, I decide to put on my cute PJ’s. Royal purple boyfriend shorts and a tank, with the glittered word Beauty written across the chest. Sometimes you just gotta own it.
I sit on my aquamarine sparkle bedspread and try to relax, but I can’t keep my excitement bottled up. I bury my face into one of my silver pillows and scream into the soft fabric. I still can’t believe I met Minji. THE Minji. What am I going to do when I see him again?
My first instinct will be to tackle hug him, but I don’t think he’d appreciate that. I’ll just have to play it cool. If I see him again.
I can’t get my heart to stop pounding at the thought. He looked at me. Really looked at me. Even if I was mess, he saw my face.
I touched him, too. More like mashed into him, but still. No one online is going to believe me, and I’m not sure I want to tell them.
Must calm down, I tell myself. I’ll never get to sleep like this. Maybe if I just hop on Instagram or something I can forget about the whole incident. I toss my pillow aside and sit up cross-legged on my comforter. The sparkly-sequins tickle my bare legs, but I’m used to it.
The second I open my Instagram account, a gorgeous picture of Minji stares back. Lordy, those eyes! Even through the screen he can look right into my heart and divulge all my inner workings. How does he do it?
Out of curiosity, I go to his personal account to see his latest picture. It’s a selfie of him giving the peace sign with the caption, next time America, written in English. That’s right, PTS had their last concert two days ago in Newark. So what is he still doing over here?
No. I will not get sucked into looking at everything on his Instagram, even though I’ve seen it all before. I fold back my silvery sheets and slip into the silky cocoon, snuggling until I’m comfortable.
I pick up my phone again. I don’t want to, but it’s a bad habit that won’t die. My text messages are looking bare. Usually at least there’s something from Abby. She told me she had a thing tonight, and so did I, but it’s still Sunday. No one else has contacted me either. Not even my stalkers.
I’ve never had a boyfriend. It’s not for lack of boys interested in me, I’ve just never felt that spark.
And then there’s Dylan. No, I don’t have a crush on him, nor does he have a crush on me. We’re each-others mutual protection. We hold hands in the halls sometimes, show up at parties together, and everyone assumes we’re dating. It’s convenient because it helps both of us with our image and keeps unwelcomed pursuers away.
Dylan and I are friends. We have had actual friend conversations, usually through text. It keeps up the whole dating appearance. I even talk to his little sister in freshman cheer sometimes, act like we’re pals. He thinks the world of his sister so it’s all part of the charade.
Strangely enough, he hasn’t texted me tonight like he usually does, not even to ask if I’ll be his fake date for something like most weekends.
What’s up with everyone?
I decide to give in and reach out to Abby first. Sometimes I have to give attention to get it.
Hey girl! Did you watch The Bachelor Tonight? I haven’t yet, but I bet you anything Tiffany is going to hog Tristan the way she always does. He’s going to fall for it too.
I hit send, then shoot one to Dylan next. What’s up?
It’s mostly for appearances. If other people see our names on a phone they assume we’re being lovey-dovey. Ha!
We used to talk more than this. I’m not sure what happened, but Dylan just kind of stopped. I guess I wasn’t interesting enough.
I shouldn’t be upset. I mean, I’m popular. My name is spoken with both reverence and loathing as I walk the halls. Some girls want to be me. Some girls think my life is perfect. Some girls hate me because I exist.
My phone doesn’t light up. No message notifications ding. There’s not even the slightest hint of a vibration.
Sometimes I think being popular is the loneliest thing to be.
The Time When Everything is Messed Up
Pep rally day means three things:
1. My green-and-black cheer outfit (it matches my eyes perfectly, so I love it.)
2. A stunning smile.
3. Working to help all the students feel school spirit.
It doesn’t matter how lonely I am. Today is about making others happy and unified. Which means I’m going to fake it until I make it.
At least I still have Minji’s phone with me. I turned it on when I got to the school this morning, and hoped he would call. Then I noticed his phone was set to do not disturb. It’s better not to mess with it, but I’m tempted to anyway. I’m also tempted to unlock it and see what’s inside, but I don’t because I respect his privacy to that extent.
I should be thinking about the Spring Lions, anyway. It’s my job to get everyone excited for the game this Friday, and I’m good at it.
Last Saturday the cheer team got together to hang g
reen, black, and white steamers at the bottom of the bleachers and hang hand-made posters on the walls. Other than that, it’s a typical basketball court gym.
“You ready?” Abby says, putting her arm through mine as we enter the rally. Excited chatter echoes through the place as the students file in, giving me the energy to do this.
“Always,” I respond, keeping my game face on. Sometimes I’m tired of being this fake, but I only have a year and a half left in high school before I can move on.
“Sorry I didn’t text back last night,” Abby says, and I feel a pang in my chest as she says it. I’ve played this game with her before. She doesn’t mean it. We’ll probably fight later, then go back to being besties. It’s what we do.
“It’s fine,” I smile. “I fell asleep right after I texted anyway.”
I actually stayed up tossing and turning, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Abby squeezes my arm tighter, her black curls brushing against me. Her beauty is unreal. Perfect brown skin, perfect straight teeth. Perfect everything.
“Next weekend, I promise we’ll hang out,” she says, but her words sound hollow.
The pep rallies are held during school hours because that’s when all the students are together. It’s also at the beginning of the week before the game. I don’t know why. Everyone’s happy anyway since it means less time in the classroom, even if they don’t have school spirit.
“Fire it up, and up, and up, and up, and up.” I yell next to my teammates, getting the crowd hyped.
I have the lead position front and center so my smile has to be the widest. We end the cheer, and take our seats on the floor of the gym.
Since Dylan is the student body president, he’s the one leading the rally. Usually it’s competition between the classes―Freshman to Senior―where reps from each age group play embarrassing games in front of the whole school. It’s all in fun, of course.
“Thank you for that lovely cheer,” Dylan says, showing off his abnormally-straight teeth. “I think it got us all in the mood to party!”
A huge bellow goes out of the crowd, and I wave my pom-poms in support.
Dylan raises his hand and the audience goes silent. People respect him, which I guess is cool. I haven’t thought much about it since we’re just friends.
“Before we get started,” he says, “I have to remind everyone about the Winter Ball coming up next month. Tickets will go on sale soon, so get your dates!”
I join in the crowd screams, lifting my pom-poms up as high as I can. I’m not really interested in going, but social status demands I attend.
“Hey, Corrine,” Abby says next to me. “You better not steal my dress this year.”
I keep the smile on my face because that’s what cheerleaders do, but I’m upset. Why would she say that right now? I’m sure she’s not trying to be mean, but honestly, showing up in the same dress last year wasn’t fun for me either. Besides, I’m the one who bought the dress first.
“Speaking of which,” Dylan continues, “Corrine, you wanna come up here?”
Right now? In front of the whole school? I figured Dylan and I would go together, but he’s never asked me like this.
Cat calls fall from the crowd, burning my ears. Why is it so hot in here? I look at Dylan, really notice him for the first time in a long time. He’s all sandy hair, blue eyes, and tan face. I can see why a lot of the girls want him. Not me, though. I’ve known him for so long he’s more like a brother to me.
He doesn’t look happy right now, though. There’s a wrinkle right between his eyebrows. He won’t make eye contact with me either.
I look over my shoulder at Abby. She wears a devilish smirk. The kind she brings out when she’s about to do something naughty.
All the overwhelming sound in the room cuts off, the ringing in my ears drowning everything else out. There’re spiders in my stomach, crawling around and biting my insides. Dylan’s still focused on the floor. I touch his arm as I stand beside him.
Our gazes meet and he flinches away from me, his lips turning into a thin line. I don’t get it. What did I do to bring this much coldness around me? I’m just trying to be the person everyone wants me to be.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t understand. What is there to be sorry for?
“Corrine Miller-Hayden, ladies and gentleman,” Dylan says, raising my arm.
I give the audience my winning smile, scanning the faces. I don’t know anyone, not intimately. I only know the other ‘popular kids.’ Maybe it’s not the moment to feel bad, but I do. For the first time I wonder if I have any friends at all.
“Corrine,” Dylan says, pulling my attention back to him. He’s holding my fingers, gripping them so hard there’s no longer blood flow. “I just wanted to ask—”
Everything’s wrong. I can feel it creep up the back of my neck. I want to run before he says another word. The doors aren’t far. But I can’t. I don’t even know what he’s going to say. What if he’s really asking me?
I look back at him, my smile feeling more forced than ever.
“—if I could go to the Winter Ball with Abby.”
The words don’t process immediately. This time the silence in the gym is real. I’m not the only one confused.
“Yes!” Abby screams. She runs over to us and throws her arms around Dylan, jumping into his embrace. He spins her around, and they look...happy. Seriously happy. Not fake cheerleader happy.
I’m frozen, mouth hanging open. If they were dating, they should’ve told me, and I would support them. I don’t get it.
Abby shoots me a glare and I have to swallow my breath, so I don’t lose it. This was purposeful. They want me to feel embarrassed and ashamed, and I do. I won’t show that, though.
“Now let’s get this party started!” Abby says. Dylan is still holding her, but she has the microphone in her hands.
She drops it, a metallic ring echoing around the gym. The spiders in my stomach fall dead, heavy weights in my intestinal track. I remind myself to keep inhaling, but I feel dizzy like my lungs have cut off support from the rest of my body.
The first splatter hits me in my left eye, causing me to stumble back and cover my face. I think a bit of balloon stuck under my lid. My stomach gets hit next, followed quickly by my arms and my legs. Soon, I’m being pelted from head to toe with water. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this, but I’m not going to run away. No matter how they hurt me, I won’t let it show. I stand firm―cowering―but firm.
Arms encircle my middle, someone spinning me around so I’m no longer being pelted. The person puts their hand on the back of my head and tucks me into their shoulder. I open my eyes, but whoever’s hugging me is taller so I can’t see anything. I still hear a couple of splatters, but they’re being blocked by whoever is saving me.
One thing I know for sure, he’s male, and strong too. I don’t know anyone in my school who wears nice cotton shirts like this guy. He smells good, too. Like an expensive leather jacket.
I breathe him in and hold tighter. The onslaught has stopped and my hero backs away, but doesn’t let go.
“Are you okay?” he says. He’s looking me in the face, searching my eyes.
His face is familiar, but foreign. I’ve looked in those obsidian eyes so many times, but never like this. Never face to face.
Those eyes are lasers. I thought they were bad on the computer screen, but here I feel like I’m about to be sliced in half.
He swipes his thumb across my cheek and it comes away with blue stain. Minji Park just touched my cheek. Minji Park is holding me in his arms and it’s not uncomfortable. Minji Park just saved me from dye-filled water balloons. Minji Park’s beautiful white cotton v-neck shirt is probably ruined. So is my cheer outfit. My expensive cheer outfit.
“I’m fine,” I say, realizing I haven’t responded to his question yet.
What is he doing here? Did he have to come right at the moment I was the most humiliated?
“Do you think you can walk?” he says, his voice tender.
I nod and he pulls me around gently, like I’m an egg that could crack. My hands won’t stop shaking. Two days in a row I’ve been this close to Minji, and I still haven’t said anything of value. He’s got me all tongue-tied.
He stills one of my hands by taking it, just grasping the tips of my fingers. I’m pulled with him as he picks up the microphone Dylan and Abby abandoned.
“That wasn’t cool, people,” Minji says. Colorful dye has splattered across his back, and I can see his muscles through the wetness of his shirt. I try not to stare, but I can’t help myself.
“No one should treat another human being this way,” he continues, snapping my attention back to the situation. “Whoever planned this better fess up and pay for their crimes.”
I don’t know what’s stunned me more. Minji coming to my defense without knowing me, or that fact that he speaks perfect English. I had no idea. He still has a very cute accent I could listen to all day.
“It’s a pep rally,” Abby says, her voice sounding strained. My eyes flip to the top of the bleachers where she stands. She’s talking into a different microphone, her arm linked with Dylan’s. Even from this distance I can see her eyes narrowed at me.
“We had to get everyone’s attention somehow,” she continues, switching to her bright announcer voice. “Besides, Corrine already knew about it. She did it to help with school spirit!”
She sounds convincing, but if that were true, this wouldn’t be so awful. I would’ve been better prepared, and I wouldn’t have worn my cheer outfit.
Minji looks at me for confirmation and I’m about to shake my head no when Abby’s voice breaks in again. “Let’s give a huge round of applause for Corrine!”
The school song starts to play over the loud speakers and the students stand up to sing. All of my teammates are doing the cheer. I know if I don’t join in, things will be worse for me. I’m the head cheerleader. I have to.
I shake my head at Minji and pull my fingers from his, leading the audience with that fake smile once more.
The tears are begging to come out, but I don’t let them show. As soon as the song is over, a new student council member comes out and takes the microphone from Minji.
Undercover Fan Page 2
