The ringing of my cell phone woke me up. Cotton-mouthed, I grabbed it off the dresser and grunted, “Hello."

“What time are you coming over? I thought we said ten o’clock."

I struggled to sit up, squinting at my clock. “'What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Kai said.

“Youʼre kidding? I threw off my comforter and kicked through the rumpled sheets to find the floor. I never slept this late. I'd been dreaming – Aphids Turn had deposited a subconscious suggestion, or two. "I'll be right over. Just need to get dressed." What day was this? Why was I going over to Kais?

“Forget it," Kai said.

He didn’t sound happy. “Really, I can be there in ten minutes. Nine."

“Where were you last night? I called and your mom told me you went out with Hwa. Like I’m supposed to believe that."

Uh-oh. Guilt gnawed at my conscience. Then anger overcomes guilt. “Do I have to report to you every night? Are you going to be checking up on me now?"

“No.” He paused. His voice dropped. “I just want to know where you were, Jennie."

My heart sank. Did he deserve to know? Yes. What was the big deal, anyway? Nothing happened. "Hwa and I went to a performance art show."

"Why?"

“Gee, I dunno. Because it’s there?" Did I need his permission to have a life now? “If you want me to come over, I’II be over."

“I have to leave for work in haII an hour," he said. He exhaled a long, audible breath. “Performance art, huh? Why’d Hwa ask you? Couldn't she get one of her ghoul friends to go? Ar, ar."

Oh, Kai. I closed my eyes. “I guess not."

“I’II caII you later,” he said. “Or you couId caII me."

"Yeah. I will." We disconnected and I folded the phone closed. I should've just asked him to go with me last night, since she barely acknowledged my existence.

That wasn’t true. It wasn’t my imagination that she was glad to see me. I sensed a current of electricity between us, even with Hwa there. Then that Joanne person showed up and cut the wire.

The phone in my hand beckoned me. I flipped it open and punched in the numbers. The numbers I’d memorized. One ring, two rings — my stomach knotted. I hung up. Stalled. Punched redial. One ring, two — just as I was about to bail, a voice said, “Yeah, hello?” I hung up. It was a girl’s voice. I fell back in bed, then shot up again and redialed.

“Hello," she answered again.

"Is Rosie there?" My voice sounded like a scared little girl's. I hate that.

“Just a sec Rosie!" she bellowed. There was a short pause, then, “Rosie, answer your frigginʼ phone.” It couldnʼt have been her mother; maybe her sister? She came back on and said, “Nope. Not here. You want me to have her call you?"

“No,” I said quickly. "I'll just catch her later."

"’Kay oh," she said and hung up. My heart was breaking every bone in my rib cage. I wanted to see her so much it hurt.

***

Swimming. Up, down, counting strokes. One, two, three, four. Breathe in, breathe out. Torch, tuck, under, back. Her.

Everything was her. The light, the dark, the day, the night. Her. Her.

She was my first thought in the morning, my last thought at night. She'd taken possession of my soul. She was inside of me, consuming me, compelling me to –

What?

Drown it out. Fight the force. You can do it, Jennie. You're strong. Resist. You can beat the forces of nature. You have to.

Swim. Stroke. Count. Count.

Can't. Can't. Can't.

***

She was propped against my locker, waiting, sipping her coffee. When she saw me coming, she scrambled to her feet and smiled. I melted. Today she had on a T-shirt that read: I HAVE A QUEER CONSCIENCE. DO YOU?

"Hi," she said. “Thanks again for coming to my program."

Keep it light, Jennie, my brain cautioned. “No problem. Tell me about Unity. How did you guys get together?” l reached around her and opened my locker.

“A couple of us met in the theater department at Wash Central. I came up with the idea and put a call card on the bulletin board at Rainbow Alley. Why?"

“l just wondered?" Light, very light. l grabbed my morning books, trying not to feel her breathing, feel her blood pulsing through my veins. “So, why did you transfer from Melbourne to Korea?"

I asked, shutting my locker.

She didnʼt answer.

Hugging my books to my chest, I headed down the hall. She walked beside me. Close, too close. At the main intersection, we stopped. I looked at her, my question hanging in the air. A clique of girls passed, which wouldn’t have even registered if one of them hadn’t scanned Rosie up and down. Eyed her shirt and sneered. Rosie turned her back on them. “It was an unhealthy environment," she finally replied.

I scoffed. “And this oneʼs better?" I found that hard to believe.

She gazed down the hall toward our lockers, eyes faraway. “Maybe,” she said. “I’m waiting to see."

***

We had a sub in calc who couldn’t even spell “math," so he gave us a study hour. I could’ve used it to finish reading Grendel and start my comparative analysis with Beowulf, which was due next week. Or read the chapter we were discussing today in econ, or study for the calc quiz tomorrow. Instead I pulled out my sketchbook. Her eyes were so beautiful, Her eyes aren't boring brown, as some may think,

they are the warmest color that exists. When I look into them, I get lost in the universe that she is… I see passion, I see beauty, I see power, I see all the colors of her soul, which she doesn't try to hide, and when she notices me staring, she doesn't look away, but gives me a sweet smile instead, because she's real,

she feels no need to hide her real self, and what she feels inside.

Oh, those chocolate brown eyes of hers... they're driving me wild. Expressive. Wispy black lashes. Eyes were hard to draw. Not the shape so much or the color, but the depth. The person behind them.

She was such a tease, I thought, smiling. Did she mean to be? She didn't like games; she'd said that. Could she be flirting? With me? Who could tell? All of this, her, she was an uncertainty. A mystery. Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with.

And I wanted to be with her, like all the time. Eliminate the obstacles, the people and things in our lives that were keeping us apart: Wendy, Kai, Nayeon, society, me.

Me? Make that my fear. What was I afraid of, exactly? What do other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn’t what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I’d have to surrender myself completely. I’d lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I’d built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music.

***

Soji handed back last week's assignments. On the top of my half-face drawing he’d written on a sticky note: “F-ing unbelievable. A+.” I must've radiated warmth because Rosie turned around and smiled. Wendy snagged her attention by showing Rosie her drawing and giggling, and I wondered if I could sharpen a water-color pencil to a point sharp enough that it’d penetrate a skull.

Oh, this is healthy, Jennie, I thought. Contemplate murder, why don’t you? Maybe you could hire a hitman to take out all the people in your way.

Okay, I composed a mental contract with myself, if Rosie approached me after class, I’ll let Wendy live.

She stalled around looking like she might, like she wanted to. Then Wendy was all over her again. Where do you call for hit men, anyway? Dial-A-Death?

I found a yellow rose stuck in my locker vent after school. My spirit deflated. Kai. He always gave me a rose after we argued. Had we argued? He knew yellow was my favorite color. Yellow. Funny. I'd managed to avoid Kai all day, but I couldn’t indefinitely.

What was I going to do about him? Tell him, of course. It was a betrayal to allow our relationship to continue. I realized now I only ever loved him as a friend. That the physical aspect of our relationship evolved because that’s what was expected. A girl meets a guy, they fall in love, have sex, get married, not necessarily in that order.

Expectations. They ruled my life.

Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.

I was sniffing the rose, wondering how to let Kai down easy, when I arrived at my Jeep. Rosie was leaning against the hood, arms folded, foot tapping. “Jennie.” She launched off the bumper. “Could you give me a ride?"

A bolt of lightning shot through me. Would she always excite me this way?

“Sure." I smiled at her. Followed her eyes to the pavement, to the flat tire on the driver’s side of her Neon. "Oh, no," I said. "I hate when that happens. You want me to help you put on the spare?"

“I’m out of spares,” she said, her voice sounding cold. "I just need a ride, okay?"

“Sure, of course." I unlocked the passenger door and she climbed in. I ran around to my side. “You want me to drop you at a gas station or something?" I lay the yellow rose across the dash. “There's A tire place not too far from here."

“No, I’ll just call my dad later. If you could take me to Hot ’N Tot, that’d be great."

I switched on the ignition. The engine coughed. "Oh, crap. I need gas. I'll have to stop at home to get some money. Will that make you late?"

“No. Your house is on the way.” Rosie buckled her seat belt. "I’lI pay you back."

“You don’t have to. I need gas anyway." How did she know where I lived?

She asked, “Am I going to make you late?"

“Yeah.” No sense lying to her. “But that's fine.” I backed out of my parking slot. "I’Il just call in sick." What? Had those words issued forth from the mouth of Jennie Kim? She'd never blow off work. It was expected she'd be there, and be there on time. She was a slave to expectations.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Rosie remarked, “I had no idea you and Hwa were related. She's really cool."

I just looked at her.

Rosie laughed. “You are so easy to read."

Which made all the blood rush to my face.

“She’s your step sister, huh? On your mother or father's side?"

“Father,” I said. “Stepfather. My mom got pregnant with me in high school when she was fifteen. She didn't really want me." My breath caught. Why did I tell Rosie that? I’d never told anyone, not even Chu.

Rosie frowned. “She said that to you?"

“Not in so many words.” My voice sounded weak, the same way I felt. “Her parents kicked her out, so she didn’t have a choice."

Rosie’ s eyes widened. “Wow. What were they, like religious fanatics?"

“I donʼt know,” I admitted. "She never told me why. She hasnʼt spoken to them since. I guess her mom's written to her over the years wanting to reconcile; be involved in my life. But Mom absolutely refuses to have anything to do with them."

“How do you feel about that?" Rosie asked.

“Me?" I looked at her. Back at the road. All these years. “I wish she could forgive them. Or at least let me meet them. I mean, they’re my grandparents, you know?"

Rosie nodded, like she understood. I felt her eyes on me, studying me. What did she see? A writhing bundle of raw nerves? After a moment, she said, "There's always a choice. Your mom didn’t give you up for adoption, so she must’ve wanted to keep you."

I’d never thought of that. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I'd always figured she just wished she’d had an abortion. End of problem. End of me.

“Where’s your dad?" Rosie asked.

"Who knows? Mom told me he turned out to be a loser and thank God they never got married. He didn’t want anything to do with me. My stepdad, Woo Bin? He’s a good guy. He’s the first really nice man Mom’s ever met. He makes her happy. That’s what counts. Unfortunately, he comes with baggage."

Rosie shot me a dark look.

“Sorry, but this whole Goth thing makes me want to hurl."

“Why?" She shifted to face me.

“It’s seriously demented." I smirked at her.

“Not reaIly.” She snaked an arm across the seat back. Almost touched my shoulder. One more inch. “Most of the Goths I know are pretty cool. I think the whole movement just got a bad rep with Columbine. What I understand about it is, they’re into nonviolence, peace, celebration of life. Celebration of death, too. They try to find all the beauty in everything. Even pain. For some it’s like this quest for immortality. For nirvana."

I stared straight ahead, letting her words sink in. Chastising myself for not even discussing it with Hwa; not finding out what Goth meant to her.

Rosie dropped her arm. “l think she's just trying to get noticed. I feel sorry for Hwa having to compete with you."

My head whipped around. “What do you mean? We’re not competing."

"Oh, come on." She twisted toward me again, tucking one leg under the other, her knee a hairbreadth away from mine. Her hand rested on her thigh. "All of a sudden, she's thrown into this new family. She has to share her father." It took every ounce of willpower to concentrate on driving, on what she was saying, on not looking at her thigh. “She has this new sister who’s gorgeous and brainy and athletic and popular. How’s she supposed to feel?"

My face flared. She thinks I’m gorgeous? "We're not competing.” I repeated.

“You may not be." Rosie blinked away. "You never had to."

Instead of the driveway, I pulled up at the curb and ground to a stop. Just sat there, staring at Rosie. I felt as if she’d just skinned me alive, like she saw me from the inside out.

I exited the Jeep and Rosie followed.

Mom was in the living room watching her soaps and giving Ella a bottle. “Hey, Ma," I greeted her. "This is Rosie. Rosie, the Mom."

“Hi.” Rosie stuck out her hand.

Since both her hands were full, all Mom could do was smile. “Hello.”

“And this is Ella, my baby sister.” I tickled Elle's belly and she gurgled. Mom, I noticed, was examining Rosie, reading her T-shirt. She said, "Would you get me a towel, Jennie? This one’s all wet."

“Sure." I lugged my junk to the kitchen and dumped it on the back landing. When I returned, Rosie was sitting on the sofa next to Mom. "No, I just transferred to Seoul high this term," she said. “How old is Ella?" Rosie tickled her foot.

Mom stood up. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she said to me, snatching the towel out of my hand.

“I got a day off,” I fibbed. “Come on Rosie. I’ll give you a tour of the crypt.’

Rosie got up and trailed me downstairs. While I retrieved the key from under my lamp and unlocked my safe — which I'd purchased as a precautionary measure against Hwa and now felt guilty as hell about — Rosie wandered around my room, fingering my things. Finger away, I thought.

She picked up the Dixie Chicks CD and smiled at me. I smiled back. Pocketing a twenty, I said, “Okay, I’m ready."

“For what?" She arched an eyebrow.

I shook my head. “You're bad."

“You donʼt know how bad."

“Why don’t you show me?"

“Why don’t you show me?"

A nervous laugh tripped over my lips. “Are you coming on to me?"

Her face hardened and she said coolly, "I haven’t touched you.”

It was true; she hadn't touched me — physically, anyway. In fact, she'd gone out of her way not to touch me. The electricity between us was palpable. Visible, almost. And dangerous. "Come on, let’s go,” I breathed, stumbling out of there. I didn't even remember driving her to work, dropping her off, or getting home. She hadn’t touched me, but God, I wanted her to.