Undercover Fan

by Jennie Bennett

  “Thanks for starting our pep rally out right, Corrine. Everyone give her another round of applause.”

  I take a bow. I’m guessing that’s my cue to leave. I don’t bother grabbing my duffle, I just run, waving like I’m in on the joke. The sooner people aren’t watching, the better.

  I’m running down the hall and through the outside doors before I stop and give myself a second to breathe.

  My hands fall on my knees as I pant. I lean back against the brick wall and slide to the ground. There might be fire ants, and I’m in a very short skirt, but I don’t care. I just want to be alone.

  How could they do that to me? I wasn’t really dating Dylan anyway, but we were friends at least. Abby didn’t know our relationship was fake, but I still wish she had talked to me. I would’ve given up Dylan in a heartbeat for her.

  Abby and I have always had a love/hate relationship, and there have been times when she’s deeply hurt me with the things she’s said. But that didn’t change our BFF status. We confided in each other. Nothing she’s done has been as painful and as public as this. I don’t even know how to move forward. I wish I could sink into the cement and hide.

  “There you are,” a male voice says.

  I don’t look up because I think I know who it is. After all, I’ve watched any and every YouTube video he’s in. I can’t get enough.

  “Hey,” Minji says, and this time I know it’s him because I can smell that leather scent. “Why did you run out? You should’ve stood up for yourself.”

  I scoff into my folded arms, afraid to look at him. Easy for him to say, he has thousands of people who worship him. I’ve seen hateful comments online, but fans rush to his defense. He doesn’t need any support.

  “Is there someone I can call for you? Your parents maybe?”

  Oh gosh. Minji meeting my parents would be the worst thing ever, they would never approve of me liking an Asian guy. I love my parents and everything, but they’re still behind the times when it comes to inter-racial relationships. You’d think living in the most diverse city in America would change that, but it hasn’t.

  I’m alone. More alone than I ever thought I was.

  “No,” I say, daring to look up.

  I hold back a gasp. How can I forget how pretty he is in real life? It’s not natural.

  My eyes go to my splattered sneakers. Ribbons of red, purple, green, and blue streak down the sides. My arms are covered in color as well, the water still dripping off my skin.

  Minji cocks his head so he can see me better. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not my fault, but I’m sorry anyway. Are you sure there’s no one I can call?”

  I shake my head. Even if there were, I wouldn’t want him to. I have a truck, I can get myself home.

  “It’s just as well then,” he says, smirking. “I actually lost my phone. It’s why I’m here.”

  His phone! I have it back in my duffle, but that would mean going inside.

  “Oh?” I respond.

  I should tell him I have it. He could get it from me later, when the wound isn’t so fresh.

  “The GPS led me here,” Minji continues, “But I couldn’t ask anyone about it after I saw what happened to you.”

  It’s time for me to be honest with him. He needs to know I’m not just some girl who was humiliated today. If only I could find the courage.

  Can I Download the Korean Language Into My Brain?

  “Actually,” I start, ready to tell him where his phone is and how we really met last night. “I’m glad you’re here. You see―”

  “Minji!” An Asian man with a perfectly round face comes out the double doors. He’s wearing a button up shirt and a tight expression. I’ve seen him in photos before, this has to be Minji’s manager.

  Minji doesn’t move. He hasn’t broken our eye contact either.

  “Really?” manager guy says. “Why do you keep walking into dangerous situations? I can’t keep saving you. You know how many people took your picture? I had to do some serious damage control in there.” His voice is a lot higher than I thought it would be for a man of his width.

  Minji still doesn’t look away from me, even as he speaks to the other guy. “This is America, not Korea. I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” his manager answers. “I grew up here, I know what it’s like.”

  Minji’s still looking at me, searching my eyes. Is that a hint of a smile I see on his perfect lips?

  Manager guy starts rambling angrily in Korean. Since I know about three words—yes, ne—no, anniyo—and I love you, saranghae—I pick out absolutely nothing.

  “Ya!” Minji yells back, finally turning his attention away from me. He stands, responding in the foreign language and advancing on his manager.

  Now is probably a good time to leave. If I can just make it to the gym showers, I can hide until school is over. I’ll have to face Abby sometime. I’m sure she has my duffle, and I can’t drive home without my keys. I’m still going to put it off for as long as I can.

  I move to stand as quietly as I can, the rough brick catching on my clothes. My back stays pressed to the wall as I shuffle toward the doors.

  I’m almost free when Minji grabs my wrist, halting me in my tracks. I would be mad, but I’ve always wanted this to happen to me. If only it could happen when I’m not this disheveled.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he says. “If there’s no one you can call, I’ll help you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I spew.

  My heart is beating triple time. Minji sticking up for me is awesome, but I can’t take advantage of him.

  “I promise,” Minji says, “I’ll take you straight home. It won’t just be us guys either. We have a lady with us too.”

  It’s nice that he assumes I’m afraid he’ll take advantage of me. He probably thinks I’m a random stranger who has no idea who he is. Since this is America and all.

  I trust him. I’m sure his motives are good. My worry is about how I look to him.

  My lips press together, the salty taste of dye touching my tongue. One glance in the reflection of the school doors shows my true state. Half of my face is blue and my hair is red, green, and yellow. Mascara is all over my eyes and my uniform is falling off my shoulder. I look like a wet calico, mewing for milk.

  Minji eases my wrist out of his grasp. “Sorry about that.” He shakes his head. “You can walk away. I don’t know why I’m being crazy.”

  So sweet! He wasn’t even holding me tight. He’d only grabbed me enough to stop me. Who am I kidding? He’s already seen me. He knows exactly how bad I look. I’d be an idiot to let him walk away when I could catch a ride home with him. I’ll get my duffle tomorrow.

  “It’s fine,” I say, finding my voice again. “I would actually love a ride home. The thought of walking back into the school...”

  I snap my mouth shut. I can’t believe I almost admitted how much I’m hurting right now.

  “That’s settled then,” Minji says, taking my wrist again.

  He touches me so casually. I know he’s doing it in a friendly way. Touch like this, otherwise known as skinship, is much more common in Korea. He must not think about it, but I do. Every contact chips away at my brain functionality. My insides get all wonky, my vision blurry, and my skin ultra-sensitive. I’m not sure if I want to throw-up or eat all the things.

  My smile doesn’t feel forced for once. Minji is walking side-by-side with me―holding my wrist―our shoulders touching. If he slid his fingers down we’d be clasping hands. Maybe if I wiggled my wrist a little...

  “Hanna,” Manager dude says into his phone, stopping me from making an idiot of myself. “Meet us at the van.”

  Sure enough, on the curb right behind the school is one of those black security vans all the idols ride in. To think, keeping his phone with me really worked. He’s here, and it’s too good to be true.

  Minji lets go of me and opens my door. I might just swoon and hit the pavement right now.

  “Thank you,” I murmu
r as I step inside. Because I still haven’t figured out anything intelligent or witty to say.

  This has to be a dream. Or a nightmare. Everything that’s happening is somewhere in the not-reality zone.

  I sit in one of the wide leather captain’s seats and try to relax, even though I’m afraid that I’m getting this swanky van all dirty. Van doesn’t seem like right word since it’s a wide as a boat. It’s more like a road-yacht. The whole thing smells like money, too. Manager-guy and the girl called Hanna—maybe a stylist?—take the two front seats.

  “Stay here,” Minji commands, then he runs back into the school.

  A squeak leaves my mouth as I try to form a protest, but he’s gone before I can get anything understandable out.

  I shift awkwardly when I notice his manager watching me through the rear-view mirror, eyes narrowed. Hanna turns around and gives me a little wave. At least she’s nice.

  “He’s not normally like this,” the manager says after a few moments of silence.

  I lean forward, wanting to know what he’s really like, when I see Minji running back with my duffle in hand.

  “Didn’t want you to leave your stuff behind,” he says, throwing the bag between us.

  My hand covers my mouth as my eyes widen. I cannot believe he did that for me. I suspected he was a sweetheart, but I had no idea how much of a sweetheart.

  “Thank you,” I manage, even though it’s muffled by my hand over my mouth. My inner fangirl is having a dance party right now.

  “Corrine,” Minji says as he buckles. I didn’t know he knew my name. He must’ve heard it inside the school. Then again, it’s written right on my duffle. Crazy how one word can completely mess with me. I might just sprout rockets and fly off I’m so happy.

  “How long have you been a cheerleader?” he asks, like he wants to get to know me.

  The van starts to move, and I examine my fingernails because I’m afraid to look at him. Knowing him is like holding an expensive and fragile vase, one wrong move and I’m afraid everything will shatter.

  “Um,” I start, trying to suppress the lump that’s formed at the base of my throat. “I’ve been doing gymnastics since I was four. I did my first cheer camp at six.”

  Minji smirks. “So, can you do a backflip?”

  Why is that the first thing everyone asks me? Usually I roll my eyes, but right now I want to impress him. “Of course, what do you think of me?”

  I must be getting more comfortable, because I think my flirt just came out.

  “Are you serious?” he says, looking me up and down. Dang that stare gets my goosebumps going. “Prove it.”

  Oh! Was that a flirt back? I bite at my lip, enjoying the attention. “Fine,” I say crossing my leg toward him. “I’ll show you when we get to my house.” I’m not sure why I made that promise. I guess it’s because I’ve seen him do so many amazing things I want to prove I’m worthy too.

  He smiles wide, biting the tip of his tongue. I swear he knows how sexy he is when he does that. Tease.

  “If you successfully do a backflip,” he says, “Then you have to promise to teach me.”

  Like he doesn’t already know how. I’ve seen him dance. He can do anything I could do and more. I give him my hand to shake. “Deal.”

  “Speaking of which,” Manager says. “Where do you live?”

  I give him my address and Hanna plugs it into her phone.

  Minji still hasn’t taken his eyes off me, and I feel like I might burst into flame with that gaze. After a second, he gestures to the mess I’m in. “Rainbow looks good on you.”

  Dang, he’s adorable. Hard as I try, I can’t get over it.

  “You too,” I say, pointing to a splotch of dye that rubbed off me and stained his shirt. “I should probably pay for your dry cleaning,” I add. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have ruined your clothes.”

  He lets out a small sigh. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t paying so much attention to him. He turns towards the window, this time letting the quiet fill the space between us. I hope I didn’t say something wrong.

  “I,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I usually can’t wear anything more than once.”

  Oh. Right. Idol. The paparazzi would have a field day if he wasn’t fashionable.

  I almost tell him I know who he is, when he speaks again. “Either way, you shouldn’t pay for it. Those jerks who did this to you should.”

  My face flushes thinking about it. It’s my turn to feel awkward. “How much did you see?” I ask in a small voice. Balloons being thrown at me was one thing, watching me get publicly dumped for my best friend is something else.

  “Was he your boyfriend?” Minji says in answer.

  I’m ringing my hands so hard they’re turning white. He saw the whole thing, then. If only ringing my hands could make me disappear. I really can’t catch a break with him, can I? “Not really,” I respond, my voice coming out strained.

  I hate how much I’ve already lied to him. He saw everything. There’s no reason for me not to come clean. “Kind of,” I amend, pinching my eyes closed. “But that’s not what hurts. Abby was my best friend.”

  Was. The word comes out on its own. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her and I already know. Our friendship is finished. I wasn’t being dumped by Dylan, I was being dumped by her.

  “That’s low,” Minji says, his tone soft.

  I take a look at him and see his mouth tight and brows furrowed, like he’s taking on my pain as his own. His sympathy is too much. It makes my head hurt. I’m tired, and humiliated, and grumpy. This wasn’t supposed to be how I spent time with Minji.

  “Minji,” I say, letting out a long breath. “I―”

  “How do you know my name?”

  Shoot. Caught. I wanted to tell him anyway. “Oh...um... well—”

  He shoves me a little. “I guess you heard it from my uncle, didn’t you?” He says, pointing at the guy I thought was his manager. Although, why couldn’t his uncle also be his manager? It would make sense.

  More importantly, why is he so ready with an answer? Now I remember his uncle saying his name too, but if it was the first time I met him, there’s no way I would’ve picked up on that. Maybe he doesn’t want me to be a fan. I can understand why, too. Fans in Korea can be crazy about getting into their Idol’s personal lives. I bet he hasn’t had a regular friendship since he became a star three years ago.

  I flash him a smile, but don’t say anything.

  Maybe it’s a lie of omission, but I can’t stand the thought of disappointing him. Not right after he saved me. It’ll be okay if I keep it to myself. I’ll just figure out another way to get him his phone. I could stealthily leave it in this van when I get my bag or something.

  If I’m going to play this right, I should ask him stuff about himself, too. Even though I’ve already memorized his birthday, his favorite color, his blood type...oh gosh, I’m flat out crazy.

  “Where are you from?” I blurt.

  Stupid! Could I really think of nothing else? His accent makes it a viable question, but I’m not sure how nice it is to ask. He probably thinks I’m rude and ignorant now. Great.

  “Korea,” he answers without hesitation. “I’m only going to be here for a few months. Hence my uncle taking me around until my license comes through. I’m finishing up a degree.”

  Also, didn’t his uncle say he grew up here? He looks totally Korean and spoke Korean, too. “How do you know English so well?” I ask. I try not to let my curiosity seep into my words, but I know they do. This is a huge revelation to me.

  “My mom is Korean, but her family is here in Houston where she grew up. We mostly spoke English at home.”

  And here I thought he only knew a few words.

  “So, what’s this degree in?” I ask, all this knowledge burning a hole in my stomach. I thought I knew everything about him from what I saw online, but that’s totally changing. What I do know is that he’s only eighteen, so a college
degree seems early.

  “Truth is,” he says heavily. “I never graduated high school, and I want to.”

  Duh. He was too busy being a celebrity. But why would he need to come here to graduate?

  “If anyone in Korea found out I was getting my GED the year after I was supposed to graduate,” he continues, “It would be very frowned upon.”

  It all makes sense now. Korean fans can be super harsh on their celebrities. They expect them to be shining citizens like the rest of the country, and education is at the top of the list. That means I have a real chance of seeing Minji again. A couple of months? I can’t believe he’s going to be around that long. It’s a dream come true. I wonder how his company will cover for him while he’s gone.

  “We’re here,” Minji’s uncle says, pulling up to my house.

  Dang, why do I have to live so freaking close to the school? I never thought the fifteen minute drive was short before, but that passed too quickly. There are so many more things I want to ask Minji. Like if we can hang out.

  “I should go.” I say instead, bending over to get my bag. “I need to shower.”

  This is my chance to leave the phone here and start new with Minji. I lean over to get my bag and try to stealthy unzip it as I go, but it’s torn from my grip.

  “Let me carry that for you,” Minji says.

  I grab onto it, panicking. “No, it’s fine. I can get it.”

  Minji tugs it back. “I insist.”

  I pull with all my might, and at the same moment Minji lets go. I end up falling out of my seat and into the walkway, bumping my head into the window. Ow.

  “Oh no!” I hear Minji cry. “Are you okay?”

  I sit up, holding my head. “It’s fine,” I groan. “I shouldn’t have pulled so hard.” And it really is. I have a little sore, but otherwise I’m alright. I’ll have to find another way to get him his phone. Right now he’s watching me too closely.

  He lets me pick up my duffle, and I squeeze past him since his uncle parked with his side facing the curb. “Bye,” I say as I go, not really looking at him.