I could know him by the gentleness with which the soles of his feet brushed the ground and the confident stride with which he walked like the earth and everything in it was once his own. He wore only gold and black from head to toe, dripping in the kind of luxury that appeared innate to him. He wore a long black trench coat and shirt that rested barely above his trousers revealing a sliver of skin. He wore dark sunglasses that shielded his eyes, his naturally light brown hair tied back leaving two single strands in front of him. There had to have been at least hundreds of thousands of dollars around his neck, including the very necklace I’d been admiring earlier. And ironically, it was the least pretty thing about him, it paled in comparison. Suddenly that North Star diamond didn’t seem so shiny when he was the real star, and I fought the urge to shield my eyes from how bright he shined.
“Oh my God,” Sydney said, clearly realizing just as I did. "It can’t be…”
“That’s what I thought, it cannot be,” I responded, fixed in a trance.
“But it looksjustlike…”
“I know.” I nodded.
“But he doesn’t live in…”
“I know,” I repeated, then turned to the clerk for answers. “Excuse me, sir, who is that?”
The clerk immediately perked up at the question, beaming with glee as the machine churned out the receipt. “Ah!" He smiled, “That’s our latest ambassador I informed you about earlier, Wynter Kwon. He’s an Olympic champion and Donatella’s latest muse. She met him once at an event and knew she had to have him as part of the family. Stunning isn’t he?”
5
Something About The Kwon's
Summer 13
Yesoh, 13, Wynter, 15
There was justsomethingabout the Kwon girls.
I didn’t quite know what in particular, but anyone who’d ever walked by the little blue house on Clementine Street would tell you how they were drawn to them. Just as I mentioned, I had known right from the start that that was going to be a house built for sisters. Something about it was perfect for tea parties and dress-up games, for delicate footsteps running to their parent’s quiet despair past midnight. For bathroom squabbles in theearly mornings, for tears of both joy and sorrow. Every brick, every bone of the foundation was theirs from the start.
I hadn’t talked to them or even approached them since the day Sydney and I had brought over the pie. I wasn’t used to interacting with a lot of girls my age. I’d lived a life beside the boys for most of my days, so I was nervous that maybe all that boyishness had somehow rubbed off on me and robbed me of my femininity. Of that part of me that would make me ‘one of the girls’. Syd kept insisting that we go back over and talk with them, but as often as she did, I kept putting it off, making up one excuse after another, and I could tell she was starting to realize that something was off.
We were eating breakfast on Sydney’s front porch by the pool, her mother was sunbathing on a floater in the middle of the vast blue, an attempt at getting the kind of tan that whispered of wealth—that declared to everyone back home that you were well travelled. She’d made us the beignets fromPrincess and the Frogthat we’d been dreaming of since we’d watched the film. Where she’d fetched the recipe from we didn’t know but we assumed it was someplace just as magical. They were dusted with powdered sugar and just the right amount of gooey and warm at the centre. We devoured them with cups of tea—there was always tea at the St James’s.
“What kind of tea is this?” I wondered, taking another long sip—it had a particularly strong taste and sharp scent. “Your dad’s still on a mission to expand his collection of teas from around the world?”
“He prefers to utilize the term quest.” She glanced down curiously at her fine China teacup. “He thinks it sounds far more interesting than it actually is.”
“You’ve got to admire his determination, I’ll give him that much. Hats off, I believe the label said this one’s from Busan.”
“Ah yes, Mr Kwon from the little blue house down the street came over and gifted it to him as a thank you for the pie. It’s a mint tea, it’s not so bad, just quite strong. They talked about this and that, you know Dad tends to ramble and carry most of the conversation but Mr Kwon seemed to fascinate him, he had lots of stories to tell. He knew a little bit about every topic, a sensational conversationalist,” Sydney retold then paused, “he invited us over again, said his girls are rarely bored of themselves but that they need more friends their age. We should go.”
“I don’t know…I still haven’t finished my summer reading list and I was hoping to catch up later,” I brushed off, clearing my throat, but it was evident to me that she wasn’t buying it.
I thought of myself as a good liar, but Sydney always saw right through me.
“Yeah, and Santa Clause is coming to town.” She scoffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the wind blowing her hair into her face. “What’s this really about, Soh, you were so excited about week ago.”
“Things change,” I mumbled. “nothing.”
“What changed?” she wondered, pressing me.
“What if…” I sucked in a deep breath, taking a bite out of the doughnut in front of me, “What if they don’t like me?”
“Yeah what if?” Sydney agreed, folding her arms. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that reaction.
“Huh?”
“You’re right, what if they don’t like you. What happens then, are you suddenly to be deemed ultimately unlikeable in the eyes of all?" she questioned, then took a deep breath of her own. “You can’t throw away good things in this life all in the name of a measly ‘what if’, there is nothing certain in this world so everything is like that. You know that one quote fromForest Gump?”
“Dear God, make me–” I quoted with a hint of truth in my sarcasm.
