How to Say 사랑해 Out Loud

Chapter 17

Neither my foul mood nor my headache has sudsided by the time I get home after practice. In fact, my head is pounding harder than ever, because rain moved practice indoors. It way too loud in the gym, our coach's yells echoing off the bleachers and her whistle louder and squeaker than ever.

I'm still busy with worries about my conversation with Krystal. I really don't want to lose her as a friend, and I hate the idea that she might eventually start drifting away from me if I don't start behaving the way so-called normal friend is expected to.

Things with Sehun were a bit off during our study hall, too. I can't say he did or said anything differently than he always does, but something was definitely off between us. It left me wondering if Jiyoung had already talked to him about the way things needed to change. I couldn't be myself with him, either. My instincts told me Jiyoung's claim that he'd referred to me as a sister was a lie, but I couldn't fully understand the idea that it could be true.

What if he really does see me like a sister? What if his separating words at the bonfire were nothing special?

What if I'm completely delusional about any lingering between us?

When I walk into the kitchen, it's obvious that my mom is in a much better mood than I am. She sit at the kitchen island, literally glowing at her iPad.

"What's up?" I mumble tiredly.

Her smile widens more. "I just got the most exciting phone call!"

I drop my things and wait for her to continue. Unless her news involves Sangmoon's immediate transfer to a different school, I doubt I'll share her excitement.

"You know how Park Chanyeol is involved with the Happiness Pursuit?"

I nod. Park Chanyeol, Sangmoon's behavior specialist, the one I'd ignored at school, works with the charity in his free time.

The name of the charity is pretty self-explanatory. The organization's basic mission is to spread some cheer among kids who are sick or just facing unfortunate circumstances. Volunteers help collect and deliver toys, games, DVDs, even computers. They get kids into celebrity meet-and-greets, concerts, sporting events, and theme parks. Sometimes they just go on junk-food runs or organize water-gun wars for kids stuck in the local children's hospitals.

"Well," my mom continues, tapping the screen of her iPad, "every year in November, they sponsor the Twinkle Ball in Busan."

I look over her shoulder, reading the description of the event on the screen. It is, apparently, "a black-tie celebration and fundraising gala akin to a Hallyu event." Children battling cancers or other life-altering conditions are to be recognized for their courage and resilience; for one night, they are treated like movie stars. The evening includes a fancy dinner, live entertainments and dancing, silent auctions and raffles, and games for the kids in one of the ballrooms at the Asiad Main Stadium.

"It's a night for these brave children to shine!" the Website boasts.

"Chanyeol nominated Sangmoon as an attendee," my mom explains. "He submitted his math PSAT scores from hwen he took them last year."

All college-bound students are required to take the standardized math and language test in eleventh grade, but country-wide, students can opt to take a practice verison of the test as eighth graders. Students who perform well are honored with certificates of achievements and listed in "who's who" booklets mailed out to parents willing to shell out 1157.85 won to receive a copy.

Sangmoon was more than happy to sit for two hours, wearing his headphones, and complete math problems in an empty, silent room. Given the accommodations he needed, he nailed the test. His score was higher than mine from eight-grade testing session.

"Chanyeol just called to tell me Sangmoon was picked to receive an invitation!" My mom practically bounce on the stool. "And even more exciting? This is the first time the organization is recognizing students with autism for overcoming life challenges. Can you believe it, the first time, like kids haven't been struggling with this diagnosis for years and years? Anyway, there's Sangmoon, and a little girl they selected as well."

My mom grabs my arm and shake it. "Isn't this exciting?! Chanyeol says the event's a really big deal. A lot of people get limos and the families get to walk on a red carpet and everything. There's TV coverage.

 We'll all get dressed up, and you can get a new dress, and -"

The hammer in my head turns into a power drill.

Is she out of her mind?

"Umm . . . I'm not going." Interrupt her excited monologue in a heavy, flat voice.

She stares back at me, mouth parted slightly, shocked. I have lowered her excitement at once, like blowing out a candle.

"Have you lost your mind?" I ask. "Sangmoon would hate that. He would hate it. Everything about it. I mean, television coverage? Really, eomma?"

My mom stares down at the countertop. She turns off the iPad, and spread her hands flat onto of the countertop. "He should get tp hear people clap for him, Suzy," she says quietly. "Just once."

I laugh bitterly. "Even if people clapping for him is something that he'd hate?"

My mom still refuses to meet my eyes. She stares at the blank screen. I bet she is wishing I never came home, that she was still reading about the ball and imagining a perfect night. 

Maybe I should be merciful, but I can't seem to stop dousing her with reality. "It's not like Sangmoon is going to change, eomma. It's not like he's going to just snap out of it." I shake my head at the idea of Twinkle Ball. "It's not like one day he's going to look back and be glad you forced him to go. You realize that, right?"

"It doesn't matter if he has a hard time," she insists stubbornly. "He won't stand out there. All the kids will have needs. Only people who truly want to be there. It won't be other people being forced to deal with him."

I am tired and frustrated with everything. In the moment, I am mean-spirited.

I cross my arms and walk back. "Well, don't count me in as one of those people. I'm not going."

My mom turns to talk to me face-to-face. She stares at me for a long time, as if I'm a stranger, a person she doesn't recognize standing in her kitchen. "What's up with you today?"

Somehow, her voice is still gentle.

Mine is still not.

I look her square in the eye. "I just wish you'd be honest about all of this. This night isn't for Sangmoon at all. It's for you. It's selfish."

She pales right before me. Her throat constricts. "Do you need to be so cutting?" she asks, her voice broken and quiet.

"I'm just calling a spade a spade." I walk past her, calling over my shoulder, "I have to drop something off at Krystal's. I'll be back in a while."

My mom doesn't try to stop me and I don't really blame her.

I can feel the acid in my stomach and taste it in my mouth when I'm being a b!tch, and I don't really like the way it feels any more than I'm sure she does.

But I'm not deluded enough to get excited about this dance. I think she's straight-up crazy for thinking it's a goof idea, and I don't understand why she'd want to make any  of us to such an even event. It would be great to escape to a world where Sangmoon can be treated like a movie star, and act like one, for a single night. I get it.

I stomp up the stairs and grab the pink skirt from my closet.

But welcome back to reality, eomma. There's no such thing as a night off from autism. Not for Sangmoon. Not for me. And not for you.

Before I leave my room, I flip the ocver back on my agenda and draw an angry X through the day. Even though it's almost halfway over at this point, today, surviving another day brings little satisfcation.

Sorry, guys! I have been with busy with school and etc. You know how hectic school is. Anyway, here's an quick update!

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