“Yeah well now she might as well be speaking French,” he concluded.
“I mean there’s girls outside, they look around our age, Soh, come see,” she egged on, and I stood beside her peering out the window, and she was in fact correct, there outside helping a man I’d assumed was their father lobby their luggage inside were three girls.
The first time I saw the Kwon girls, I recall feeling this fantastical allure of sorts, this undeniable connection. It felt similar to what Coraline had experienced in the novels when she longed for a different life and stepped through that little door. Summer 13 was my very own portal into a whole new world. It was my own pathway to experiencing the closest thing to magic I’d ever know. The first time I saw them, I thought they all appeared the same with their backs turned, miles and miles of carefully spun lochs of long black hair. Same almost unnaturally pale skin, but different in height, the two girls carrying the heavier boxes were taller.
“I want to know them,” I expressed—that was all I said as I stared out the window watching them, like I watched everyone.
“I’m so glad they’re girls moving in guys, Waverly has such few girls our age," Sydney said blissfully.
“Hey, are we not good enough for ya?” Jax grumbled in protest.
“You are just boys,” I reminded him.
“And that within itself is enough said.” Sydney turned to face me, holding my hands. ”Yesoh, friend, we may get to have girlfriends now.”
“Sydney, I wished on every shooting star every summer you have no idea." I giggled and she smiled, “We have to keep this secret.”
“What secrets?” Sydney’s mother, Elodie, said as she made her way into the living room. She looked just like her only daughter, she had a shawl wrapped around her as she came back inside from the porch.
“Nothing!” we all responded in unison.
“What did I say about keeping secrets dearest?” Elodie scolded, folding her arms sternly and we knew then that there was no arguing with her.
“Fine, there’s a new family moving in next door and they have daughters…we wanted to make friends,” Sydney explained to her mother.
“Really?” Elodie marvelled. “That sounds wonderful, let’s bake the nice family a welcome-to-the-neighbourhood pie.”
“You make the best pies, Mrs St James,” Jax complimented with great candour, as he always did. Jax was the one all the parents loved, he was good at every sport, knew a lot about the kind of politics that didn’t make anyone privileged feel guilty, and he looked out for people. But he was also cowardly and a people pleaser—he was not without his flaws.
He was right about one thing though, Elodie did make the best pies.
We all put on our aprons and followed the recipe Elodie read out for us. Our cheeks were dusted with flour, tongues sour with lemon zest and hair sticking to our foreheads from the oven heat. As we baked, we talked about what it might mean to have sisters or something close to it; we wondered if they would make beaded bracelets with us, if they wouldn’t mind braiding each other’s hair and wouldn’t complain like the boys, if they would listen to Gracie Abrams on replay with us and analyze the lyrics, collect seashells on the little beach. Things that just us girls could do.
We then mustered up the courage to make our way down the wooden pathway past March House, past Mirrorball House, and all the way down to the house at the end of the street. Tall pastel blue walls and so much potential for something so full of life. I knocked and corrected my posture, awaiting a response, butwhen the door swung open, there were no girls, no, not at all but a boy.
“You arenota girl,” Sydney marvelled, nearly dropping the pie.
He was the exact same height as I at the time, his skin a warmer honey than the girls I’d seen before, but his hair was the exact same shade of suede black with a wispy white streak that reminded me of midnights. His eyes were round and big, like two dark moons swimming in a starlit sea—they gave him this almost innocent appearance, he was doe-eyed like Bambi. His nose was straight and slightly upturned, a beauty spot on his cheek. His lips full and tinted rose. He wore a white shirt that was far too big for him and he appeared far too pristine, far too beautiful, for a world like this.
He was the first boy my gaze everlingeredon, the first one who was unlike all the others.
“No, I am not.” He shook his head in refusal. He had a slight English accent to his tone that took me aback. “Were you hoping for a girl to answer?”
“Yes actually,” Sydney answered because I was evidently still dumbfounded. “Where are—”
“Welcome to Waverly Peak, It’s nice to meet you, I’m Yesoh Yeo,” I said, taking the pie from Sydney’s grasp and into my arms to offer it to him. “A token from the parents.”
“The parents seem kind. Thank you.” He bowed, taking the pie from me. “We’re certainly grateful and can’t wait to meet everyone.”
“We?” Sydney asked, still persistent. “So there are others, huh?”
“Yes, my sisters, my father, and I,” he explained, “is that who you were hoping to encounter?”
“We saw them from the bay window and wanted to make a good impression.” I swallowed down my nervousness. “We hoped for friends.”
“Ah, I see.” He paused then acknowledged my words nodding slowly. “Well, they just left with our father to the town to buy groceries, sorry to disappoint you. There are no girls as of now.”
His voice carried a very slight blunt humor to it that I found rather amusing.
