I didn’t see her on Tuesday. She never materialized at her locker and wasn’t in art. Jerks. I should've reported them myself. Her absence worried me. What if she never came back? What if I never saw her again? That night I leafed through the phone book to find “Park.” There were dozens. Too many to call. What would I say, anyway? “Does Rosie live here?” What if she did? What if she answered?

“Please,” I’d say. “Don’t leave. Come back and subject yourself to more violation and sexual assault.”

God, what if she felt that way? What if she felt threatened? I was up all night obsessing about it. About her. I must’ve drifted off sometime because I woke up to Mom shaking my shoulder. “Jen? You’re going to be late,” she said. “Didn’t your alarm go off?”

Shit. I’d forgotten to set it.

Arbuthnot paused in mid-sentence as I slithered into class fifteen minutes past the late bell. I had to sit in the back, didn’t I, so my ass would be visible grass. “You’re late, Jennie.” She stopped me in my tracks.

Let us state the obvious. Turning around in the aisle, I smiled and said, “Sorry, Mrs. Arbuthnot. We had a family emergency this morning. My dad’s going to live, though. The EMTs caught the heart attack in time.”

That shut her up. Shut everyone up. To the people I passed on the way to my desk, I mouthed, Nooo. Shook my head. They smothered grins.

Arbuthnot mumbled an apology. As I slid into my seat, I noticed she seemed a little off kilter now. Good. Just doing my part to curb harassment at its source. “You’ll, um, each prepare a character sketch of Beowulf,” Arbuthnot said, sifting through a pile of books on her desk. She knocked one off. “Focus on what you believe are his most telling personality traits. Analyze how and why each is important to his development as a warrior.”

The guy in front of me raised his hand.

“Yes, Marcus,” Arbuthnot acknowledged, regaining composure.

“Can we pick the fact that Wulfie is gay?”

My spine fused. People twisted their heads to gawk at Marcus. They swivelled back to catch Arbuthnot’s reaction. She said, “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“The scene with him and his merry men, splashing around in the water. Seems pretty swishy to me.” He waggled a limp wrist.

Everybody laughed.

Arbuthnot’s face went purple. “Leave the room immediately,” she snarled, pointing to the door.

“What? I’m just saying…”

“Out!” she shouted.

Marcus cursed under his breath, then scraped back his chair and shoveled his books into his arms. He strutted out, wiggling his hips all the way. The catcalls trailed him through the door.

Any other time I might’ve found him slightly amusing. Today I wanted to stand and scream, “What is this? National Gay Bashing Week?” But I couldn’t. I couldn't command my muscles to move. Couldn't get out of my chair. Couldn’t bring myself to do what I knew was right.

***

She wasn’t in art. She was gone forever, I knew it. When I got home after work, I felt sick. Physically ill. Mom asked at dinner if I was okay and I lied; said, “Yeah, fine.” She was so busy fussing with Ella, who was coming down with a cold and acting unusually cranky, that she didn’t pursue it. Didn’t push. Woo Bin had been on the phone ever since we sat down to eat, Jenering at his hard-of-hearing dad, which was giving me a headache to go along with my stomachache. I moved food around on my plate, then excused myself and trudged down to my room.

How many were there? I wondered. Four, a dozen, the whole school? When had it begun? Had Seoul High always been this way? So hostile? We had a strong policy against bullying, but how was that any different from harassment or discrimination? It was all about hate. There should be laws. Were there laws? Can you legislate against hatred? Why hadn’t we discussed this in any of my government classes?

Rosie’s question burned in my brain: Why weren’t more gays out? She seemed to imply, or know for sure, that we had more gays and lesbian in our school. Who were they? Where were they hiding? Did they walk the halls in fear of their lives? God, I couldn’t imagine that. Every day, having to act invisible, protect yourself. Having to put up with assholes and bigots.

“Jennie,” Mom called down the stairs. “You have company.”

Rosie? Could it be?

I took the stairs two at a time and rushed into the living room. “Jisoo. Hi.” Of course it wasn’t Rosie. She didn’t know where I lived. Jisoo sat on the edge of the recliner, bouncing Ella in her lap.

“I can’t believe how big she is.” Jisoo spread Ella’s arms apart and played pat-a-cake. “It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen her, hasn’t it?” she asked Mom, who was folding baby clothes next to Woo Bin on the sofa. Some stupid reality show on TV had a fat guy fastening a bungee belt around his middle. “I was just here over Christmas,” Jisoo said.

“They grow up fast.” Mom smiled at me. “Too fast.”

“No kidding,” Jisoo said. “Her hair’s gotten darker. Plus, she’s put on like twenty pounds.”

“Ten of that is the dump in her diapers.” I fanned the air. “Whew, Ellie. A little too much mashed banana.”

Mom tossed me a Huggies.

“I’ll do it.” Jisoo held out a hand and I passed her the diaper. I’d known Jisoo practically my whole life and could tell something was up. She wasn’t crazy about babies, since she had three bratty little brothers. She rarely dropped by in the evening when we were in school. She worked and I worked, or I had practice, or I had Kai. A wave of guilt washed over me. I never had found time for a real heart-to-heart with Jisoo.

I was going to say, Bring Ella to my room, but Jisoo laid her out on the rug to change her. The dryer buzzed downstairs. Mom slapped Woo Bin’s leg and said, “Come on, honey. Be a good role model and help me with the laundry.”

“Now?” Woo Bin whined. “But he’s going to jump off the cliff.”

“Jennie will let you know if he lives.” Mom scooped Ella off the floor.

Thank you, I mouthed as she passed by. Woo Bin traipsed after her, grumbling.

I curled cross-legged on the floor next to Jisoo. “What’s up?”

She exhaled a long breath. “Hae broke up with me.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasped. I scrabbled to my knees and threw my arms around Jisoo, expecting her to disintegrate in tears, suffer an emotional meltdown, implode. She didn’t. Didn’t react at all. I drew back.

“It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it,” she said.

“Were you?” This was news to me. “I thought you were deliriously happy.” That’s what she always said whenever anyone asked. “ ‘We’re deliriously happy. We couldn’t be happier.’”

She fondled her ring finger, which was now empty. “Things were sort of weird over Christmas. Even before that, he hadn’t been e-mailing me as often. Or calling. I think he really wanted to break up before Christmas, but he didn’t have the heart.”

“The balls, you mean.” I shook my head. “God, Jisoo. You never told me there was anything wrong.”

She met my eyes. “I was hoping it was just me. You know how I am. If anyone’s even in a bad mood, I figure it’s something I did or said.”

I rubbed her arm. “What did he say exactly?”

“Exactly?” She tilted her head at an odd angle. “His exact words were, ‘I’m setting you free.’”

Oh, no. That could only mean…

“Obviously he’s met someone else.” Jisoo’s head dropped.

“Bastard. I never did like him.”

Jisoo let out a short laugh. “That’s what my mom said. Not that I told her first; she was just standing there when he called tonight. You’re the first one I’ve told.”

Whatever difference that made. “Your mom’s right. The guy’s a prick.”

“Yesterday, he was God’s gift. Today he’s a prick.”

“Jisoo –”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She scooped up a rubber ducky from the floor and squeezed it. “It’s for the best, really. It never would’ve lasted. We don’t have the same thing you and Kai do. The fire, you know? The passion.” She smiled at me.

The Passion. Right. Screams blasted from the TV and I remoted it off. “So, what are you going to do? Next year, I mean. You were so psyched about KCCD.”

“Only because he was.” Jisoo set the duck atop a box of baby wipes. “I don’t know. Remember how you and me and Nayeon always talked about getting an apartment together after high school? Going to the same college? That was our dream.”

Yeah, a hundred years ago. The apartment still sounded like fun.

“Nay has been talking about Western State. Her cousin goes there and he really likes it. Maybe I’ll apply with her.” Jisoo pushed to her feet and wandered over to the picture window. Drawing the sheers, she gazed out into the night and added, “Nayeon’s going to shit a brick when she hears about Haein.” Jisoo twisted her head around to look at me. “Maybe not. She was more in love with him than I was, I think.”

“Nayeon was in love with his money,” I muttered. “But then, so was I.”

“So was I,” Jisoo said. We both cracked up. She released the curtains and turned, folding her arms around herself. “It was nice to dress up and go out. All those society dances and fund-raisers his mother was involved in…”

“Don’t forget the flowers and candy and crap.”

“That too.” Her eyes shone. The light extinguished when she added, “But sometimes he made me feel like he was buying me. Like, for instance, he always let me know exactly how much he’d spent, so I’d feel obligated to –” She stopped.

My jaw unhinged. “Have sex with him?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. He never forced me or anything. I probably just imagined it.” She shook her head. “I’m mad at him, that’s all.”

“Jisoo, if you felt that way, it was real. You have every right to be pissed. Come on.”

Her face changed. “You’re right. Especially if he’s been cheating on me.”

“Oh, Jisoo.” I wanted to hold her. Comfort her. I knew her well enough to know she was devastated. She’d made all these plans; rearranged her life around him. Before I could get up and got to her, she lowered herself to the sofa and bent over, elbows on knees. “What are you doing next?” she asked. “Going to college with Kai, probably, huh? You couldn’t talk him into Western State, could you?”

Mom bustled into the room. “You can’t be serious,” she said.

How long had she been standing there, listening? I hated when she did that.

Settling Ella into her baby seat beside me, Mom said, “You girls need bigger dreams. There’s no way Jennie’s going to a state school. I know Kai wouldn’t dream of it. And you shouldn’t either, Jisoo. It’d be a waste of your talent.”

“Unless, of course, your talent is human waste,” I murmured.

Mom looked at me. I looked

at her back. How did she know what Kai dreamed of?

Jisoo said to me, “Have you decided? Kai was asking me yesterday if you’d said anything.”

“Jesus.” I shot to my feet. “Why doesn’t everybody just get off my back.!!” I stormed into the kitchen, almost colliding with Woo Bin. We side-stepped each other, being careful not to touch. As I wrenched open the refrigerator and grabbed the milk carton, I sensed Jisoo behind me. She Said, “I’m Sorry, Jennie. I didn’t know it was a sore subject.”

I took a slug of milk, set the carton back in the fridge, then plastered on my don’t-worry-about-it smile. “I haven’t decided, okay? Kai assumes I want to go with him, but I don’t know what I want.”

“Okay,” Jisoo said. “No pressure.”

No pressure. Right. So why was I on the verge of explosion?

“You want to come with me to tell Nayeon about Haein?” Jisoo said. “We shouldn’t leave her out. You know how she gets.

I didn’t really want to go. It was late, I didn’t feel well. “Sure. Let me get my shoes.” I padded over and gave Jisoo a hug. What are friends for?

***

Thursday Rosie reappeared, huddling in front of her locker with her coffee and donuts and earphones, the baseball cap on her head. She wore a T-shirt that screamed: OUT! AND PROUD!

I was so glad to see her, the hall lights grew brighter.

Her eyes were closed, but she blinked up at my approach. Hi, I mouthed.

She removed the earphones. Leaning forward a little, she reached around and shut her locker door.

I dropped my duffel. “Oh, my God.” Both hands rose to cover my mouth. “My God.” Someone had spray-painted down the length of her locker: DIE DYKE.

“Not terribly artistic, were they?” Rosie cocked her head upward. “I mean, the letters all run together. There’s no style at all. Really amateurish. Not to mention extremely unoriginal.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Didn’t realize tears were streaming down my face until Rosie shouted, “Don’t!” She rushed across the hall and pinned me against my locker. “Don’t cry. Don’t you let them see us cry.” Her eyes pooled with tears. She retreated and gathered her stuff.

I stood frozen, stunned. Her words echoed in my ears: Us? What did she mean by us? She was fleeing down the hall.

I gaped at her locker. How could they? Anger burbled up from my core. How could they?

I found out soon enough she wasn’t the only one targeted. Wendy’s locker had the same massage, and three guys got the more obscene FAGS FUCK OFF.

It spurred a hurried assembly. Mr. Reynardi threatened the entire student body with legal action for what he called “this deliberate act of vandalism, this marring of school property, this criminal mischief.”

Criminal mischief? He made it sound like a stupid prank. What about destruction of people’s lives? What about destroying their trust in others?

Reynardi ranted on and on about prosecuting to the fullest extent of the law, blah, blah, blah. He wanted names and he wanted them now.

Get real. Like someone’s going to stand up and confess? Rat out their friends?

After the assembly I was so irate, I stormed to my locker. Rosie was there. The others who’d been tagged were hanging out at her locker, too. One of the guys had a videocam and was shooting a tape of Rosie, as if she were starring in a silent movie – making the discovery of the hateful message, tearing her hair out. She was funny. Made me want to laugh. I couldn’t laugh. I felt too angry, too numb. I heard her ask for a copy of the tape because it’d make great PA.

What’s PA? I wondered.

I was so intent on watching her – them – that I didn’t notice the crowd forming. A dozen or so people had circled around and were closing in on Rosie and the others. The guy with the videocam lowered it slowly. There was this prolonged moment of silence, tension so thick you could taste it. Oh, my God, I thought. It’s a lynch mob. They’ve come to finish the job. Say something, my brain commanded. Speak up.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry this happened to you,” a voice carried in from the rear. I recognized it. “I hope you don’t think we’re all this way,” Chu said.

There was a general murmur of agreement. Rosie and the others didn’t respond. Most of them cowered against the lockers, looking freaked. They looked to Rosie for direction. She clapped once and said, “Okay, let’s get this on film. You guys can be extras. I want to see moral outrage here, and fury. Like this.” She shook a fist at the crowd to demonstrate. “Anyone got a beer? We could do foaming at the mouth.”

Laughter filtered through the crowd.

Rosie cued the camera, and the extras really got into it, hamming it up and acting out. Across the hall, Rosie’s eyes found mine. They spoke the truth; she wasn’t enjoying this. She was humiliated. Hurt. Afraid. Her fear was so palpable it made my blood curdle. I wanted to find whoever had done this to her and kill them.