A Walk To Remember

There's A Song That's Inside Of My Soul

"I was born in Daegu, South Korea, but my family moved to Busan when I was a kid. A place where the air always smells of pine and salt and sea." Yoongi's voice is gentle, slight dialect coming through as he speaks. "For many, days and nights are spent fishing or swimming in Donglim Lake. While the ocean may be the focus of daily labor, churches have always tried to be the focus of life. When I lived here, there were eighteen churches within town limits alone. They sponsored pancake breakfasts, rummage sales, car washes, and softball games. You'd think that all the people here were friendly, welcoming, open-hearted..."

 Adult Yoongi looks urban, prosperous, well-groomed - but retains his boyish whimsy and sense of irony. A cell phone and overnight bag are sat on the car seat next to him as he drives through the quaint town. "...and that money or family background or education or luck didn't matter."  

Yoongi reaches out to adjust his side mirror, revealing a simple gold wedding band on his left hand. His truck turns a corner and slows down in front of the huge Southern Baptist Church. "But they did matter. They mattered to everyone. Except Park Jimin..."

Yoongi's truck turns into a driveway just past the church and heads for a cluster of buildings. Behind the buildings, sits a cemetery. 

The truck pulls up in front of the old parsonage - it's a different colour than he remembers. "...Astronomer. Actor. Believer in God..." Yoongi hesitates for a moment, then climbs out of his truck. 

He heads up the walk and onto the front porch, reaching out the press the doorbell. It rings inside and Yoongi begins to feel edgy and unsettled. "...Believer in me." 

A nurse opens the door.

                                                                                                       *

Rock music drifts out open doors - barely recognizable. Students gather. Brains, preps, richies, heavy metals, jocks, punk rockers, goths, geeks. Mixing without mixing. Most are red-eyed, woozy and wasted. A couple of boys break dance to a boom box.

Missing are the criminals...

A shiny T-top Camaro roars up, then suddenly stops, tires squealing with angry music blasting out through the stereo speakers. Yoongi, aged eighteen, is at the wheel. He is impulsive, sexy-troubled, with the nothing-to-lose courage to act on destructive whims. He is envied, copied and also feared.

Inside the vehicle, empty cans roll and clink on the floor. A tiny plastic skeleton dances as it hangs from the rearview mirror. Yoongi stamps a joint into the ashtray, impatient and edgy. "Where is he? He's supposed to be here."

"I need to whizz." A voice calls from the back seat. Hoseok is skinny with high-energy, a leg always jiggling.

"Hobi. You're such a hummingbird."

"I wanna dance." Bae is Yoongi's girlfriend. Richie princess, a bad-girl pretender. Wearing a small pink crop top, a jellie bracelet, and large silver hoop earrings.

"So go dance." Yoongi answers.

"With you."

"I. Don't. Dance."

Hoseok suddenly points out of the window. "Gaffer alert. Gaffer alert."

They all laugh, seeing the principle appear from the school gym and then spot Jungkook by a dumpster. 

Jungkook is the youngest in the group, with jet black hair and loads of ear piercings, and is currently dumping garbage from a trash can. The car lets out a loud honk and Jungkook turns to see the Camaro, then turns back to the school seeing the principle. He quickly heaves in the empty trash can as the car pulls up.