“Awww!”
“Chief, I can’t clock in yet. I need this intel. Where are the yellow binoculars now? Do we have photographic evidence? How long have you been calling him ‘Den-Den’ and why hasn’t he done anything about it yet? What kind of dirt do you have on our manager? Is the dirt for sale—”
“Kim Ahnjong.”
“Ssshhhh. Not now, I’m taking notes.”
By this point, Eunjae had rushed to the storage shed to pick up an extra chair. Jiyeon longed to stay in the kitchen, perhaps hide in the pantry while she was at it, but it came off more suspicious with every minute they were both gone at the same time. So she put her earring back in, returned to the dining room, and braced for impact.
The booths were filling fast. Arthur lifted his voice above the din of customers asking for menus, high chairs, selfies withthe diner’s handsome staff. “Oh, Emmie! There you are. I was looking for you. Guess what?”
Jiyeon eyed him warily. “What?”
“I’ll be here every week now!” he crowed. “The producers said I can be a recurring guest!”
20
Jiyeonmadechangefora twenty and watched her current boyfriend chat about life goals with her former boyfriend. The pair sat together in a diner booth as every window filled from pane to pane with sunset hues: peach, rose gold, fiery orange. Would this eventually be normal, too?
It was Friday, and it should’ve been date night, but they’d have to take a rain check yet again. She still had a few hours left on her shift. Meanwhile, Eunjae’s was done. He’d be leaving soon, and Arthur would tag along, off to grab dinner with everyone else who wasn’t working late. They’d started staying open until 9pm as a trial run for Sunshine Diner's twenty-four-hour operating schedule.
Jiyeon smiled at the next person in line, and the next, and the next. The routine was simple, easy, repetitive, but moving to one of the griddles might be a better option. In the kitchen, she wouldn’t have a front row seat while everyone else got to spend more time with Eunjae than she ever did.
At least she had Jeannie, here to help out for the rest of what promised to be a hectic weekend. She came over to stand behind the counter during a lull, glowering at Arthur. “Sohe’sthe one getting a date night instead of you?”
“Uh-huh. And he even brought his scrapbook.”
“Not the scrapbook,” Jeannie groaned. “Are you serious?”
“Just the first volume. He’s got four now.”
“No! I’m tired just thinking about that. Why’s Arthur always so… Arthur?”
“Hmm. 'Cause he’s Arthur? That’s my best guess.”
“Okay, but why? Like who told him he has to be this way? I’ll never understand.”
In addition to two different planners and his trusty calendar app, Arthur maintained an exhaustive list of personal goals. He kept this list in his head, but it also existed as a scrapbook, the pages crammed with accomplishments. This ponderous tome had existed since before Jiyeon even met him; she remembered Arthur bringing it to class for a project when they were in seventh grade, the year he transferred from private school to public.
Nobody ever made a peep about the scrapbook situation, even if they thought it was a bit odd. Arthur was friendly, athletic, a go-getter. Plus, he enjoyed something akin to celebrity status. Driving into the city, you might see his father, Arthur Senior, grinning down at you from a billboard advertising the Hong & Hong law firm. In the foreground, two knights went head to head in a medieval joust, locked on a collision course. TURN THAT CRASH INTO A CROWN — CALL KING ARTHUR TODAY.
If you called 555-ARTHUR, you could hire Lemon Grove’s premier personal injury lawyers. If you called Arthur Hong, Jr. on his blue flip phone, you could get yourself invited for dinner, or video games, or a random pool party. He was popular fromthe moment he showed up, but not even his burgeoning social calendar could derail him from that list of goals, the many quests he aimed to complete. Because there was always a quest, with Arthur. Somewhere to be, something to achieve, someone to help.
Right now he was on a mission to dictate his entire autobiography in one sitting. Eunjae listened with genuine fascination. He paged through the scrapbook, asking questions, examining class photos and timeworn articles about the high school debate team. Twice, Arthur had summoned Jiyeon to confirm the details on an anecdote or provide the name to go with a face. If she wasn’t in the room, he’d text her.Emmie, where did we go for that field trip in junior year? Hey Emmie, come here for a sec.
Emmie, Emmie, Emmie. Between Arthur and the multiple daily emails from Eric, she was ready to stick her phone under a tractor wheel, climb into the seat, and throw the whole thing in reverse. There were tractors aplenty in Monroe. It could be arranged.
The third time he called her over, several members of Apollo had joined in, waiting for the van. Ezra hovered on the periphery, neither joining the group nor straying from it. He inched closer when Arthur pointed to the scrapbook and said, “Emmie, look. Remember this?”
It was a picture taken near the end of their last year in middle school. With everyone lined up alphabetically by last name, Jiyeon and Arthur should’ve had Shannah Henderson standing between them, but she was absent that day. They posed together, holding artwork in black frames. Arthur was two weeks shy of saying goodbye to his braces for good. Jiyeon had embraced a short haircut, the shortest haircut of her life thus far, and she’d ironed all the waves out.
“Sure, I remember,” she replied, with a wry smile for her younger self. “I kept my hair like that for a month, and then I realized it made me look too much like Janie.”
“Who’s Janie?”
“Their sister,” said Eunjae. “We’ve never gotten to meet her.”
This was news to Kazu, who sputtered that he had no clue there was a third Han sibling. And she was the eldest? And she lived in Spain? What? Jeers and booing all around.
