“Really?” Sydney huffed, folding her arms. “Well that’s certainly disappoint—”
“I’m not disappointed,” I interrupted, “I have only brothers, you see, I’ve grown accustomed to a life beside boys.”
“I only have sisters. I understand why you would be drawn to them and wish for friendship,” he disclosed, and the wind was immediately knocked out of me.
“Oh my god, you have three sisters?” Sydney gasped. “That’s crazy, you’re the only boy!”
“Is that so?" He responded humouring her but I caught onto his sarcasm.
“So you have a life with girls and Yesoh has lived a life with boys, oh this is something straight out of a film. I mean, the irony!” Sydney marveled in fascination, and I rolled my eyes at her.
“This is my best friend, Sydney, she’s…well you can see!" I introduced her to him, and she reached out a hand to shake his.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, new kid.” She nodded enthusiastically. “You’re going to feel right at home.”
“Maybe,” he mused, glancing down at the pie. “Thank you again for the pie, the girls will be over the moon, they happen to have quite the sweet tooth.”
“And you?" I wondered.
“I get told I’m rather bitter,” he corrected me, but I shook my head slowly in refusal.
“Hm. I don’t think so, we’ll see,” I replied.
“Come on, Yesoh, let’s head back home, It’s almost time for dinner.” Sydney grabbed my arm, but I stopped her.
“Wait!" I insisted, then glanced back at him. “I never quite got your name?”
“Kwon.” He held my gaze. “Kwon Wyn.”
“You mean Wyn-ter?” I wondered.
“Yes, but I am not often Wynter, I’m only Wyn.”
“And I’m not often Yesoh, I’m only Soh.” I matched his humour.
“I get the sense that I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, Soh.” He lingered in the doorway a little longer than he had to before disappearing inside and closing the door.
At the time, he had no idea just how much.
4
Golden Boy
The cool fall air brushed against my skin, my feet crushing the crispy orange-hued leaves beneath my boots. Sydney and I walked hand in hand, as we usually did. We were always particularly affectionate with each other, well, she was with me and I didn’t seem to hate it. Not entirely at the very least.
The shopping centre was bustling with people on this eventful September night, families, teenagers, and even little children walked past us as we made our way towards the luxury stores. I agreed to accompany Syd on her way to the Versace store to pickup a bag she’d ordered for herself months ago. She lived the kind of life where everything she desired was at the tips of her fingers.
There was no denying that her family was wealthy, perhaps that word was even an understatement. I didn’t come from a lot of money—many times my family has been comfortable, many times they have not. I always had a roof over my head, sometimes two. I always had food on the table, wine glasses filled to the brim, pantries bursting forth with delicacies from all over the world. I had nice enough clothes, definitely not the latest hot thing, but nice enough.
The thing with growing up around rich people when you yourself are nothing of the sort is that you constantly feel like a pig in makeup, but a pig nevertheless. I felt like a chameleon, constantly changing my colours to match my environment. I played the role, like a Broadway actress on her stage. I got in, passed the audition, I followed the script, did everything by the book and did my best to play pretend. Some would say I got far too immersed in my role; I learned a little too much about all the different types of cashmere, the right kind of spoons to use and in what order your cutlery should be, I never placed my elbows on the table. I had grown far too accustomed to palaces and shimmering glasses of champagne that I was beginning to forget the barn and muddy waters.
All the designer clothing I had, I saved up for months for. I had two pieces, one was a Prada coat I’d seen in a magazine when I was sixteen and I recalled promising everyone around me that someday I would have it. Sydney’s mother offered to buy it for me on the spot, of course she did, that’s just the kind of generous person she was. I knew there would’ve been no strings attached too, giving came as easily as breathing to that family—it was admirable. Jax wanted to gift it to me for my birthday that year, but I assured him that wasn’t necessary and that I was certain to buy it myself someday.
At first they were all skeptics, and I don’t blame them for it. I was a sixteen-year-old girl at the time, swearing on my life that I would soon purchase a $7000 coat from one of the most prestigious brands on the planet. But I believed in myself and I was determined. I recalled my mother’s words echoing in my mind, our darling family motto:‘You don’t wish on shooting stars, you become the star’. And so that very summer I took up my first job at Trudy’s diner, I worked five-hour shifts every other day and kept this big jar in my room that used to have marmalade in it. I got a felt tip marker and wrote on a piece of paper that this would be my dream coat fund.
Every penny I got, be it from work, from birthday presents, or Christmas cards from my grandparents, would go in there. Soon enough, I’d catch my friends and family glancing at it with a faint smile, shaking their heads as it slowly began to fill to the mark. They wouldn’t say it, but I knew they were all rooting for me, and even in silence that meant the world to me. Eventually, I was able to buy it for myself and I felt like I was on top of the world.
I did not plan on buying anything that day, I had to keep repeating that in my mind or I wouldn’t have enough money for groceries at the end of the month. I wish I had the will to accept money for things like this from my father, but my pride would never allow it. I took great pride in being able to buy these things for myself without having to ask anyone for anything. My father covered my tuition and that was about it, I much preferred it that way. I didn’t want to put any more demand on him than necessary.
