Chapter 1
The sound of my buzzing alarm clock rings in my ear. I reach over my thin blanket onto the ground next to me to silence the annoying thing. I stretch my arms above my head and my shoulders pop. I consider slumping back into my bed, not facing any of life's issues today and push them into tomorrow. To forget about hardship and judgement. To relish in the blanket's warmth and be comforted by it, as none have ever accomplished before. However, I can never basque in its warmth, for there are things to accomplish, and pushing them away would only increase my problems. Reluctantly, I prop myself up a sitting position and check the time.
5:15 AM, August 19, 2005
I walk towards the bathroom that my older sister and I share, my uniform in hand. I turn the lights and the fan on and hop into the shower. The lukewarm water feels good on my aching muscles. I wipe the steam off of our cracked mirror and continue to dry myself. I put on the itchy layers of uniform that my middle school requires me to wear. It all seems foolish to me: why should they care what I wear or how I express myself. I look into the mirror.
I wouldn't consider myself beautiful. At all. Staring back at me is a seemingly normal 13 year old girl, however I am constantly pointed out in public. Its unsettling. I don't have anything on my face that really stands out, except for the dark circles underneath my blue eyes. I tie my hair into a ponytail: I hate my hair, I wish I could cut it or at least dye it a darker color, even a really light brown would do. Anything but my blonde hair. I hate standing out. I hate being different. Slipping on my converse, I grab my school bag, checking to see if I remembered to put a change of clothes in it. Luckily I had remembered because it was already 5:45 and I was running late.
Normally, kids in America would get rides to their school or at least have a bus that would take them to school for free. I could take the bus to school, but it costs money, and thats something that I don't have. Even though I speak fluent English with an American accent, I'm not American. Even though my parents were and my sister still is, I am constantly reminded of the fact that I'm different. I watch a lot of American TV and even listen to a lot of hip-hop, even though it is not as popular here and sometimes my sister makes fun of me for it. However, no amount of Notorious B.I.G or NCIS was going to change the fact that I still have to fucking walk to school.
I run through the doors of my school with twenty minutes to spare. I throw off my shoes and grab for my slippers, a required part of school attire. I walk through the hallway, backpack in hand, same pants, same shirt, same jacket as everyone else, but I still feel like an outsider. Even though I've attended this school since primary school, I'm still stared at sometimes and the bullies still like to make fun of the fact that I look like a foreigner. 외국인.
I walk to my locker, fumbling over my key chain.
"Hey foreigner. Do you need me to read the signs for you?" Yeeun asks me in broken English. Her friends snicker behind her.
"Don't you have a class to fail right now?" I sneer, opening my locker to block her face.
"Hey. Don't talk to me like that. Just because we're in the same year doesn't mean that I am not above you." She slams my locker shut, almost clipping my fingers off. She grabs my ponytail and pushes me against the other lockers.
"Stupid foreigner. You think by now she would learn some manners. This isn't America, there are hierarchies you have to remember." She pulls my hair, hitting my head against the grey metal lockers. Yeeun lets go, grabs her bags, and walks away, her idiot friends following behind her. I grab my books. I can feel blood dripping down my forehead. I run to the bathroom, clenching my fists. hate cleaning blood. I hate the feeling and the smell of blood. I hate the way it trickles down my face and onto the floor, staining the white tile with dark red graffiti. I hate it all.
