b, Book, and Me, page 6
I get up from my seat.
A girl walks into the classroom. She looks at me. I don’t know her name. I don’t even care, but she keeps looking at me.
I walk out into the hallway.
The baseball team, the kids from my class, and the kids from the next classroom over are all in the hallway. There are younger kids, too. There are boys and girls. Only the teachers are missing. They’re always missing. And as always, something bad is happening since the teachers are missing. I peer into the bad thing. This time, it’s worse than it has ever been before, I think. I think that every day. Every day, it gets a little worse. Everyone knows that. How far will it go? That’s what we all wonder. Our eyes grow big and our mouths disappear. Every day during lunch, without fail, a swarm of kids. They crowd into the hallway and silently peer in. The baseball boys move silently, and Rang’s body shakes silently. And then there’s me, watching. Just like everybody else. Washington Hat sees me and smiles. The smile is, as always, very cute. I want to touch his face. I want to hold it in my palm and stroke it. How I’d let myself be stroked like a dog, just to keep seeing that smile. But Washington Hat’s smile quickly fades as he goes back to beating Rang. A large boy punching a small girl, as though mashing potatoes. It’s not normal. We all know that, which is why we are watching. I’m really sick and tired of it. The same song keeps playing, but it’s not a good song. It’s quite horrible. I watch Washington Hat’s face. His mouth is firmly shut. I hear a thump. For a very brief moment, time stops. Then it flows again. Slowly. Too slowly. The kids are still silent. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to listen to this song anymore.
I stretch my hand out to Washington Hat. He doesn’t look up. I say: I don’t want to be with you anymore.
It’s suddenly quiet. I repeat—this time louder and clearer—I don’t want to hang out with you anymore. Everybody has heard me this time. Washington Hat looks at me. I look back at him. I say, I’m not your dog. No one is your dog here.
Then I take the hat off and throw it out the window. The hat flies out, everything stopping as it lands on the ground.
18
I decide not to think about what happens next.
19
Now I really don’t hang out with anyone. I don’t hang out with anyone because they’re all boring. Of course, I’m boring too, so being alone is enough. A group of dull people would just make things even more miserable. I’m like a dog. Dogs don’t have friends. They only have owners. That’s all they need. What’s the difference between dogs and humans? I’ll just live like a dog. I flip a page in my textbook. We’re in social studies. There’s a map drawn in the textbook. A map of someplace I’ve never been. Next to the map is a picture of some people. They’re laughing. But that has nothing to do with me. I’ll be a dog. I reaffirm my decision. I like it. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I don’t need friends. Rang: I don’t like you. I glower at her seat. She isn’t here. She didn’t come to school today. Not having friends is amazing. It means I don’t need to care if Rang comes to school or not. It means my iron weights get lighter. It means I can stay home and not expect anything. It means I don’t have to hope. It’s amazing to know in advance that things will just get worse, because there’s no need to feel disappointed. Why, then, am I crying? I blink and a tear falls. The teardrop bursts as soon as it lands on my textbook. It turns into a dark stain, seeping into the paper. I put a finger on it. It’s a little hot or a little cold. I turn another page. I grip my pen with all my strength. I shake my head and think, it’s okay. The tear will soon dry and the dark stain will lighten. There’s no need to worry.
20
I’m in agony and I’m getting even more boring.
21
Rang doesn’t show up to school, but she shows up in my dreams.
22
The baseball boys got bored once Rang stopped coming to school. So did everyone else—it showed on their faces. We all needed a new Rang, it turned out. Getting bored is the worst thing that can happen to kids. Scarier than kicking your friend to death. We wanted a new Rang and got one quite easily: it was me. I was standing in the school hallway, watching the trees outside. They were lush and green. From my left, Washington Hat came toward me. Tokyo Hat approached from my right. Shanghai Hat stood watching me from beneath the lush trees. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t realize what it meant.
“Ow!”
It wasn’t me who shouted—it was Washington Hat. I looked at him. He was looking at me, his face distorted with pain. I didn’t say anything. “Ow!” Washington Hat yelled again.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Why did you hit me?” Washington Hat said.
“I didn’t.”
“Why did you hit me, huh?”
“When did I…”
Suddenly, Washington Hat grabbed my head and started shaking it. “Ow, ow!” I yelled. He shook my head harder. My body was jerked this way and that and then I fell to the ground. Washington Hat laughed. So did all the other Hats. The laughter grew fainter and fainter and then it died out completely. It was very quiet. Like nothing had happened at all. But I knew it wasn’t over. This was the beginning.
23
I am not loved by my teachers. I know this because they don’t do anything when the baseball boys hit me. I’m certain the baseball boys are more loved than me. And I know because every day the baseball boys’ moms come to school and pick them up in cute white or red cars. My mom can’t do that, because she doesn’t have a car. She doesn’t have a car because we don’t have any money. It’s disgusting. These thoughts are disgusting. But I’m not making anything up. I’m getting beaten up. Or, more like, I’m getting wrestled. Or, more like, I’m being stripped down. Or, more like, I’m being fondled. Washington Hat doesn’t stroke me like I’m his dog anymore. He fondles me like I’m a naked Barbie doll. No, he doesn’t fondle me. He nudges and rubs it against me. I can’t help but think terrible thoughts when it’s happening, about how I want to kill Washington Hat. I imagine what it would be like to kill him. But if I can it’s better to not think at all when it’s happening. It’s better to stop altogether, like a clock with its batteries removed. It’s better to slice out the time that is unfolding right now and pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s better to scoop the memories of this time out of my head. It’s better to believe that I’m just having a bad dream. The real issue is stumbling home after a beating every day. But there’s nothing else I can do. It’s undeniable that everyone keeps their distance from me. I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. Killing Washington Hat would be easier than enduring this. What I’ll do is hide a hammer in my backpack and sneak it into the school. After the bell rings, I’ll stay put for about fifteen minutes, then leave the classroom with my bag. I’ll quietly enter the classroom next door—Washington Hat’s classroom. His seat is in the back row, on the far left. As I approach him, I’d quickly draw out the hammer, then hit him on the head with it. That’s it. It’d be much easier than you might expect.
But I know I won’t be able to do it. Washington Hat knows it, too. He knows that no one will do that to him. And, since we know and he knows, nothing will change, and Washington Hat will live. He’ll live for a long, long time.
The kids, watching, are quiet.
What do you want? What do you want? Tell me, I’ll do it.
Just tell me!
“Take off your shirt,” Washington Hat says.
“Then I won’t hit you.”
Washington Hat smiles.
It’s still cute.
Everyone is watching. My cheeks are wet. They’re
smeared
all over with something.
Someone is talking, but I can barely hear what they’re saying. My ears are covered. So is my mouth, it seems. No, not covered—I’m eating something. No, not eating—something’s in it. In my mouth. No. On my palms, on the soles of my feet, something is clinging to me. No. In my hair, my eyebrows. It tickles. Between my toes. Something squirms. Something alive. Something alive crawls up from my foot. No. It crawls down. No. One crawls up and another crawls down. There are three, not two. My body shakes. No. It trembles. I’m cold. No. I’m sweating. No. I’m crying.
“Take your skirt off. Then I won’t hit you.”
“Take off your underwear. Then I won’t hit you.”
“Then I won’t hit you,” says Washington Hat, and then he hits me.
I can’t
breathe.
Everyone is wearing a baseball cap.
The caps are all the same.
It’s the middle of the day, I think, but everything’s dark.
It’s so dark that I can’t see
any
of their faces.
My flesh is being stripped off—no, my stockings are?
My senses are vanishing—no, my skirt is?
My lips are torn—no, my bra is?
Why are you doing this to me!
Why?
It’s because we’re cowards.
We’re cowards!
The cowards yell, and at the same time they stretch out toward a large hole. Everything streams into the hole. But I am the hole. Washington Hat smiles. Still cute, I think. I close my eyes, but I can still see Washington Hat’s smile. It doesn’t fade, but lingers in my mind. I don’t want to kill Washington Hat anymore. I want to die. I want to die.
24
Rang opens her hands. The number seventeen is written on her palm. It’s the seventeenth time that Rang has appeared in my dream. That’s what she says, so it must be true. I don’t know anything anymore. In my dream, Rang shows me her palm with the number seventeen on it for seventeen hours. For seventeen hours, I sit and look at Rang’s open palm. Time goes by very slowly. My body moves very slowly as well. Rang’s body starts to shine. It grows brighter and brighter, and the light eventually fills the whole room. I keep looking at Rang. Suddenly, I realize that we’re in a hat. We are in Washington Hat’s hat, squirming like little mice.
25
Eighteenth.
26
I didn’t want to dream, so I started staying awake at night. I kept my eyes wide open, watching my sleeping parents and sister all night. Fortunately, my parents and sister slept very well. When the sun rose, I’d take my bag and go to school. The school was empty. I’d open a window, crawl into the nurse’s office, and fall asleep. There weren’t any dreams when I slept anymore. It was just bright and white, like the nurse’s office. When I woke up and opened the door to go to class, the baseball boys would appear from everywhere and yank my hair. Even as they were dragging me by my hair, I would doze off again. I wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired. Everything seemed like a dream. More and more of every day was spent in a dream. I saw Rang everywhere, and I didn’t harass my sister anymore. Though sometimes I still wanted to kick her. But I was too sleepy to do it. Like melted cheese, I stuck to the floor, immobile. Stuck to the floor, I watched Rang slowly sway in front of me.
27
When I walked through the school gates, the baseball field swerved to the side. I started stumbling across the field in a zigzag. The baseball boys ran after me in a zigzag. But I was okay. Rang was with me. When I opened my eyes, I was still in the same place, zigzagging in the same place. Rang was with me, and the baseball kids were swarming.
Nobody was in the classroom when I opened the door. As soon as I walked in, I fell over and fell asleep.
In my dream, Rang spoke to me.
“I’ve decided not to show up in your dreams anymore, because I don’t like you anymore.”
We were crossing the field. The wind was blowing and twirled Rang’s hair. I couldn’t say anything to her.
“So this is our last time. Bye.”
Rang started to drift away. In a zigzag. I floundered, trying to say, no, I think. And then I woke up.
When I woke up, my Korean teacher was looking down at me.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then go back to your seat.”
I did as she said, then almost jumped back up in surprise when I saw that Rang was sitting in the seat in front of mine. She gave me a little wave and I waved back.
“Sleepy?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Rang smiled. She looked so happy. It was weird; I didn’t feel happy at all.
“Rang, I don’t like you.”
When I said that, Rang replied: “Yeah, I don’t like you either.”
And then she disappeared, just like that. I opened my eyes again, and we were back on the baseball field.
Rang said, “I’ve decided not to show up in your dreams anymore, because I don’t like you anymore.”
We were crossing the field. The wind was blowing and twirled Rang’s hair. I couldn’t say anything to her.
“So this is our last time. Bye.”
Again, I woke up. I lifted my head and saw the Korean teacher looking down at me.
“Are you sick?”
“Yes.”
“Then go to the nurse’s office.”
I stood up and all the kids turned to look at me. Rang wasn’t there, but it felt like she might be hiding somewhere, watching me. Under the teacher’s desk, hanging out of the hallway window, inside a locker. Too frightened to stay in the classroom any longer, I hurried out. Rang wasn’t anywhere. But I knew she was lurking nearby, hiding and spying on me. Why? To harass me! I ran down the stairs. On the way, I saw the baseball boys through the window. I crossed the baseball field in a straight line. This time, they didn’t chase me. I slipped through the gates and Rang wasn’t there. I crossed the street and passed the alley. Still, Rang was nowhere, even when I reached my house. I opened the door and saw my sister. Like always, she was lying on the floor. For some reason, she looked a little green. I looked down at my slightly green sister. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t seem to be sleeping. I gathered her in my arms. She writhed, with her green face and green breath.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” And then I closed my eyes and fell asleep, a little bit, a little bit at a time.
28
When I opened my eyes again, the sun was setting. It was a fiery red, as though setting the whole world on fire. The window was wide open, and the dense smell of soy sauce poured in with the sunset. My sister was sleeping like a corpse in the corner. I stood and went to the window. The bright red sunset looked as though it were swallowing the factory. It really was something. It was so immense and spooky that I felt like the whole world would disappear with the sun.
I closed the window.
My sister was still lying in the corner. She hadn’t moved, but she seemed greener than before. I turned the television on and sat on the floor. The television showed a burning mountain—the mountain was green, like my sister. And the fire was red, like the sunset. A helicopter flew through the air, spraying white over all of it. I looked at my sister. Her green had gotten darker. So dark it was practically black. I shook my head. Am I dreaming? Maybe I haven’t woken up yet? I turned the television off and called out to her.
She didn’t reply.
“Hey, wake up. I’m hungry. Make some ramyeon.”
She was silent.
“Hey, wake up! I said, make some ramyeon.”
I stretched my hand out to touch her. And as soon as it touched her body, I froze. Immediately, everything turned green, anything and everything within my sight. The ceiling, the floor, the television, and my sister—everything. I couldn’t tell what was my sister and what wasn’t. Nothing moved and everything was silent. Only the green changed, growing darker and darker. The longest second in the world passed. I forced my mouth open. A thin sound leaked out. It grew louder and louder and eventually became a scream. I covered my ears and ran.
29
This is a dream. No, it’s not. Yes, it is. No! But it’s what you wanted, right? Do you really want it to be a dream? No? I don’t know! I want to see the ocean. I want to dive into the waves. I want to go in and never come out. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna do it. I’ll never come back out of the water. Never come back. Never. I’m going to turn into a fish! Yes.
I’ll be a fish!
The sky was getting dark. The seagulls flying in circles looked like a school of fish. The streets were cooling into a blue hue. The colors of sand and waves mixed with the wind. The moon and the stars hid behind the clouds, out of sight. In the far distance, I could see a dim glimmer of blinking lights. The sound of the waves whispered to me. The smell of the ocean thickened. The clouds draped across the sky were still, as though dead. The ocean was getting closer and closer. And I was running. My face layered with sweat and tears. As soon as I jumped into the water, I realized that I wasn’t alone, that I had company. It was Rang.
