Almost V

아홉

"Team Suzna, dropping the mic."

We both giggle until Frank looks around the corner and Anna makes a hissing sound at him. He leaves us alone now. "Got plans for the weekend?" she asks me.

"I don't know. Why?"

"There's a bonfire on Saturday after work. Party on the beach."

I grip my till harder, thinking of Taehyung's friend RM. "Is this the one at the Secret Garden.?"

"Yeah. You've heard about it?"

"Only in passing."

"The core of it is a surfer crowd, but other people show up, too. They're usually every Saturday night in the summer. Sometimes they're boring, sometimes they're fun, but I thought it might be a good place to meet people from MIIC, since you're new. I can introduce you."

The me readying the excuse to turn her down, but the weird thing is, I think I want to go. Especially with Anna. So I say, "Sure, why not?" And before I know it, I'm telling her where appa lives, and we're making plans for her to pick me up in her car. What do you know? I guess I'm a social butterfly. Must be all this fresh air and sunshine.

Or maybe it's just that I'm feeling more hopeful about life in general after finding out appa has a new girlfriend. A kickass cop girlfriend. "We're just friends. Taking things slow," he assured me on the ride home yesterday. That was all he offered, so that's where we left it. As long as he's happy and there's no weirdness, I'm fine with it.

And speaking of fine, there's the other more important thing buzzing around in my brain: bumping into Mark at IHOP. Mark, and only Mark, I remind myself for the millionth time, who may or may not be V. But I decided last night that I'm going to muster up the grumption to go talk to him again. I've been daydreaming about it off and on for hours.

A rush of cool museum air blows across my arm, and my daydreaming is cut short when I have to step to the side to avoid the bull that is Taehyung, charging the ticketing booth.

"I'm going to rip out your intestines, sew this key to the end of them, and then stuff them back inside your body."

Taehyung opens Yoongi's hand, shoves down a key, and closes the man's fingers on top of it. "Don't. Lose it. Again."

The older security guard smiles. "You're a good boy, Taehyung. Thank you." Yoongi pats him on the shoulder, completely unfazed by Taehyung's bad attitude. He's a better man than most. "Come along, ladies. Frank's got ants in his pants. Let's start on the line and sell some tickets."

Team Suzna kicks butt, per usual, and we did finish the line, because we're the best. Our shift supervisor remarks on the good work we do, and when Mr. Lopez drops by to check on us, for once,  he even gets our names right. it's a good day, right up until 4 p.m.

Museum foot traffic has slowed. my break's almost over and I'm nearly ready to power through my last couple of hours, but I've still got a few minutes, so I'm walking through Hyesun's Wing. I'm in the San Franciso Room, which has a Golden Gate Bride that visitors walk under and a fake Chinatown street, where you can look inside a stage storefront window that look like they did the late 1800s. As I looking at a Chinese tea shop, I notice two kids, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, acting strange. They're standing a few yards away, nearby a film display, eyeing a replica of the Blasian Falcon, which is sitting on the desk of the famous Blade Spade. One of them, a blond boy in a blue polo shirt and Vans, is experimentally touching the statue, while his friend, a brunette with a backpack, keeping a lookout.

I can guess what they're planning. Idiots. Don't they notice the security cameras? The backpack kid does see them, though, and he's inching around, blocking his friend with his body, looking up at the cameras and judging the angle. I don't know what they hope to accomplish. Everything in the museum is glued, nailed, screwed, or locked down.