Page 11

RANDALL

It’s been a minute since Julie has been to our two-bedroom apartment. We used to have regular sleepovers, but in the five years of silence, she hasn’t seen my room transform.

And, if I’m being honest, having soju prince London Park over isn’t exactly my dream scenario. Our entire apartment could fit into his kitchen.

But Halmeoni insisted that we have them over. I think she secretly wants to spy on us since I’m working with Julie. She’s also been cooking for the past two days to impress London with her best dishes.

So, here I am, cleaning up my messy bedroom so they can both fit.

Julie is always on time, so I’m not surprised when the doorbell rings ten minutes before she’s supposed to arrive.

I quickly grab my clothes and stuff them into my closet. I swipe a rag across my desk. I swiftly shove all my gardening tools and cookbooks under my bed, which is already crammed with shoeboxes full of seed packets. I pick up my notebook and grab several pens.

I rush downstairs in record time to see London Park seated at our tiny dining table with almost every Korean banchan dish that was ever invented. I definitely was not expecting him to be here first.

“Hey,” I say.

Halmeoni pours more tea for London before he’s even finished his cup.

“Gamsahabnida,” says London, gently bowing his head to my grandmother.

She pointedly looks at me. If I liked guys, my grandmother would be thrilled if I dated London, the heir to a liquor fortune and king of manners.

London deftly grabs silver chopsticks and fills his plate with a healthy serving from each dish. Cucumber slices marinated in red pepper spice and bone-white potato slices are clearly his favorites since they are piled high.

He takes a bite and exclaims, “The absolute best. Just like my halmeoni’s.”

This statement elicits the biggest smile from my grandmother, who scuttles around the kitchen to somehow get more food for us.

I smile at London and sit down next to him. While I open my notebook, he opens his tablet. He holds a stylus and taps the screen. I stare.

“What’s that?” I ask, letting my curiosity get the better of me.

“This is the ReMarkable notepad. It takes my handwriting and translates it into typed text. Plus, it’s light as a feather. Much easier to carry to class than pounds of notebooks,” says London.

Right, okay then. I turn to the page with my list of topics we need to discuss.

“Here’s what I think we should figure out today,” I say.

Responsibilities

Timeline from start to finish

Overseeing garden and third graders

Planning out the menu

Logistics

Budget

Main event details

London takes a picture of my outline with his phone, taps his electronic notebook, and my words magically appear on his tablet.

“Should we wait for Julie to figure out who does what?” asks London.

He looks toward the front door with a bright smile on his face. I can see in his eyes that he’s hoping for her arrival any second. His crush on her is so obvious. No wonder he’s suddenly Mr. Studious in group projects. He just wants to impress Julie. I don’t know why it irks me so much that he likes her.

The doorbell rings. I hop up immediately.

“I got it,” I say before he can offer.

JULIE

It’s been forever since I’ve come here and yet it feels like yesterday. The familiar scents coming from the front door remind me of all those times that Tyler, Mercy, and I crammed into the kitchen and stuffed ourselves silly with the best mandu. And how we would stay up late binge-watching K-dramas to finish an entire season in one night.

Randall greets me at the front door with a strained smile. I see London scribbling away on his electronic notebook.

“Come on in,” says Randall.

I wave hello to Halmeoni, who gives me the slightest nod before turning to leave the room. I’m not surprised, but it feels weird. She used to be like a second grandmother to me, doting on me and pinching my cheeks.

“You’ve gotten started,” I say.

“Here, take a look at my notes,” says London. He pulls out a chair for me next to him.

I squish into the seat. His body is too close to mine. Randall slides his chair away so I can move over.

“Thanks,” I say, reading over the agenda.

I point to the bullet point about planning out the menu, which is perfect for me. “I’ll take on the menu planning for the project showcase. I can act as head chef the day of the event.”

“I love it,” says London. “I’m the money man.”

I glance over at Randall, who is straining to stifle a laugh. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. It’s not lost on us that London has all the money.

“I can oversee the budget and logistics. I have some killer financial spreadsheets that I can update with our specific details,” says London.

“Great,” says Randall. He pretends to cough into his hand. I have to look away so I don’t burst into giggles. “Since I’m already in charge of the garden and the students, I can handle that. Let’s start with a timeline. We’ve got seven weeks until the showcase.”

I write down each week, starting with now and leading up to the end of May. “Do you think everything that’s been planted will grow in time for the menu servings?”

Randall taps his finger on his bottom lip. It looks so soft. I blink rapidly before looking down at my notebook and acting like nothing is happening with my heart. It kinda works.

“Some vegetables might, but realistically, I don’t think the entire menu should depend on every piece of produce,” says Randall.

“What if we create dishes based on what’s in the garden and have pictures of what’s growing?” I ask.

London claps his hands. “Brilliant, Julie.”

I blush.

RANDALL

I bite my lip and take a deep breath. I can’t shake the jealous feeling I have for the way London flirts with Julie.

“I’ll add a line item for printed color posters for the showcase. And probably a full printed menu display so everyone can see what they can sample,” says London.

Julie leans closer to his tablet, nodding along. “I’m envisioning at least five dishes.”

London faces Julie. His hand edges close to hers.

“How many samples should we offer?”

“Gosh. What’s the typical turnout?” asks Julie.

London taps away on his phone. “Last year, there were ten projects and 358 people attended.”

“Oof, that’s a lot of samples.”

I interject, “What if we only offer bite-size samples?”

Julie snaps her fingers. “Yes. Damn, I’m starving.”

She picks up a plate and piles it with kimchi and marinated bean sprouts. She happily eats.

“I miss your halmeoni’s food so much,” she says. She closes her eyes, relishing each bite.

I pick up my silver chopsticks, embellished with my name in Korean characters, and add more to Julie’s plate.

“You have to try these fermented tongmaneul jangajji. I know how much you love pickles, and garlic pickles are the best.”

I don’t know how to explain the absolute joy I have in watching Julie eat. She has the best reactions to food.

Her eyes widen as she chomps on an entire garlic clove. “Pickled garlic is so damn good.”

London immediately puts some on his plate and hurries to eat it. “You’re right. Heavenly.”

Before The Big Fight, Halmeoni would always make extras for Julie’s family. Now, all the leftovers are reserved for church.

“Randall, your halmeoni’s food is next level. Jules, if you like that, you’ve got to try Sook Jae.”

Julie scoffs. “I’ve heard the wait there is like three months. I’m good.”

“Nah, I’ve got an in,” says London.

Of course he does.

“I’m happy to take you as my guest,” he says.

She plasters on her fake smile.

I want it all to end, but I don’t know how to make it stop.

JULIE

Well, that got weird quickly. Truth be told, I’ve been dying to go to Sook Jae. It’s supposed to be run by some of the best Korean chefs in Los Angeles, but I know agreeing to go with London is akin to a real date. I wish his crush on me would disappear already, but it’s clear that it’s still ongoing.

“That’s really kind of you,” I say. “Maybe some other time?”

London flashes me his brilliant smile. And by brilliant, I mean teeth-whitened.

“Consider the invitation a standing offer,” says London. His phone beeps. “I’ve got to head. Great work, guys.”

He packs up his things and slips them all into a slim black messenger bag. London touches my shoulder.

“Happy to send you my notes from our meeting.”

“Great. Thanks,” I say.

Halmeoni appears suddenly with glass containers full of leftovers. “Here, here,” she says to London.

He bows graciously and takes the food. He tells her that he appreciates it and knows that his parents will be so happy for her amazing cooking. She practically swoons. He really knows how to woo a Korean grandma.

I have a twinge of jealousy that he gets to take home some of Halmeoni’s dishes. It used to be a weekly food swap until The Incident. My mouth salivates as London walks by with his takeout.

After he leaves, I turn to Randall. “Does London realize we have seven weeks until the final presentation?”

Randall chuckles. “In his mind, we have forever.”

Halmeoni clears her throat. She’s still in the kitchen with a tight-lipped smile. It’s time for me to leave.

“Thank you for the delicious food,” I say. She nods in response.

Randall follows me to the front door. “Sorry about that. She still has strong feelings about what happened.”

“I understand,” I whisper.

“I can’t believe you turned down an invite to Sook Jae,” says Randall.

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not really interested in London like that.”

We are impossibly close to each other because we have to whisper. This is dangerous. I should just say goodbye and leave, but I linger for longer than I should.

“I have a crush on someone else,” I say.

I let the statement dangle in the air. I let my eyes graze his. The electricity I feel could power an entire city street.

“Oh,” says Randall, but something in his voice sounds hopeful.

“It doesn’t seem fair to go out with London when I like someone else.”

“Not fair at all,” says Randall.

Now, Halmeoni loudly putters around in the kitchen, making it clear that she is watching us. I step outside. The screen door slams shut, creating a thin wall between us.

“Maybe we can trade notebooks later?” I ask.

I hope Randall remembers what I mean. The code we used in sixth grade for the top secret notebook shared by Tyler, Mercy, Randall, and me. We thought we were so slick about it.

I wait, hoping the code clicks and unlocks those middle school memories.

Randall looks at me quizzically, then, his brown eyes widen. “Definitely. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow.”

Relief runs through me. He gets it. I wave goodbye and happily run down the stairs from their apartment, whistling to myself.

I compose the note I want to write to Randall in my head.

I have a crush on someone and that someone is you.

Ugh. No. Try again.

I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I have feelings for you. I know it’s impossible for us to date, but maybe we can write to each other again through our notebook.

I keep rewriting the note in my head as I hop in my car.

Now, only if I could remember where my invisible ink pen is.