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“Would you shut up?” Miyoung’s annoyance made her headache swell toward a crescendo.

“It’s just that you didn’t seem well after that either.”

“Well, I’m fine now. You don’t have to think of me.”

“I wish,” Jihoon said with a laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Miyoung asked before she could stop herself.

“I don’t consider myself a really curious guy, but I can’t stop thinking of you.” At Miyoung’s glare he quickly continued. “Not like that. I just mean, the stories my halmeoni told me were true. It’s a bit surreal. I can’t seem to stop thinking about it, and then I had this weird dream.”

“What dream?” She snapped back to attention, glaring at him so intently he leaned away.

Before Jihoon could answer, the teacher blew his whistle and told them to trade places. Miyoung was now the guard and Jihoonheld on to her shoulders. Instead of running around trying to avoid the balls, Miyoung batted them away effortlessly, her eyes never leaving Jihoon.

“What dream?” she asked again.

“We were in the forest together, hiding from... your mother?” He ended it like a question, as if asking for approval.

The coincidence in details couldn’t be ignored. This confirmed one of her fears. He’d touched the bead, and it had temporarily connected them. This was a problem. What else had he seen in her head?

She closed her eyes against the full-blown migraine pounding at her temples. The pressure was so great she thought her eyes would pop out of her skull.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Jihoon said, even as his eyes searched her face. He took a step closer, and she held out a hand to stop him. Except her headache threw off her depth perception, and she caught him in the sternum, throwing him back so hard he slid a meter across the floor on his butt.

“No fighting!” The gym teacher blew a whistle and the game play stopped. “Jihoon, you hurt?”

Jihoon shook his head as he stood.

“You’re new, right?” the gym teacher asked, approaching Miyoung.

“Yes,” she mumbled, seething at the attention as dozens of eyes stared at her.

“Already causing trouble, Transfer,” the gym teacher said. “I’m going to have to call your mother.”

•••

Waiting for Yena was hell. This was a record for Miyoung, getting sent to the vice principal on her first day of school. She was standing outside of the teachers’ office waiting for her mother. If that impending arrival wasn’t enough, she was in the perfect location for kids to ogle as they walked past.

They sent furtive glances at her as they made their way back to the classrooms. Miyoung kept still. She knew the best reaction was no reaction.

Parts of conversations drifted over. She heard the wordsviolentandfreak. This was not a good start to a new school. And she was good at gauging that. She’d been in a dozen schools, and each had proven to be the same. Kids, no matter where they lived, just wanted to fit in. And that meant ridiculing anything and anyone that didn’t. Fitting in was practically against Miyoung’s genetic makeup. No matter how much she’d tried to match a mold, she always popped back out. A fox peg trying to fit into a human-shaped hole.

So she’d stopped trying, choosing instead to keep a low profile. If she managed to stay under the social radar and proved to be uninteresting, the other kids would leave her alone.

But she’d already gained attention. And worse, negative attention. Kids loved gossiping about troublemakers. First strike was what she’d said to Lee Somin this morning. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d been so thrown off from seeing Jihoon. And then getting a punishment in front of the whole class, strike two. And strike three, getting into a “fight” in gym class.

There was one common thread through it all: Ahn Jihoon.

She saw him walking up the hall with his friends. The awkward boy named Changmin or Changwoo gave her a quick bowwhen he spotted her. A mental debate raced across Jihoon’s face before he started toward her.

Miyoung narrowed her eyes and gave a small shake of her head that clearly saidMove on.So Jihoon lowered his eyes and hurried past. Lee Somin followed in his wake, sending a scowl in Miyoung’s direction.

The click of shoes approaching could have been anyone, but Miyoung knew it was Yena before she glanced up.

As kids filed toward their classrooms, necks craned. Even teachers stopped to stare. Her mother didn’t seem to notice her dozens of admirers. Her cold eyes saw only Miyoung, who was suddenly rubbing sweaty palms on her uniform blazer. Yena was pissed. Miyoung straightened her shoulders and clutched her hands together to hide her trepidation.

Yena swept past Miyoung without a word and into the teachers’ office, where the vice principal waited. Miyoung followed behind, head lowered.