“No problemo.”
Meg fumbled with her lock as I racked my brain, trying to come up with something to talk about. What had I seen on Alan’s Facebook page again? Hip-hop and Korean movies. I guessed I could bring up one of those topics. But which one? I knew nothing about hip-hop, and I didn’t want to sound dumb. I could ask him about the movies, but would it sound like I was only asking him about Korean stuff because he was Korean? Coming off as an insensitive racist was the last thing I needed.
God, why was I so nervous?
Come on, Meg. Get the damn locker open already.
“So, Alan,” I said, hating the desperation that came through in my voice. “On Facebook I saw that you like Korean cinema.” I’m such a loser.
Alan’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Have you ever seen Shiri?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh, man, it’s so badass. What about Joint Security Area?”
I shook my head.
“Dude, you gotta Netflix it. It’s about these two soldiers who are killed in the DMZ. It’s really good.”
I glanced at Meg as she clicked her lock open. About time. Her wild hair was blocking most of her face, but I could just make out a smile through the tangled web. She was happy. Whether it was because she finally showed that lock who was boss or because of something I’d said, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to stop.
“What’s the DMZ?” I asked Alan.
“The demilitarized zone between North Korea and South Korea. Dude, don’t you watch the news?”
I shrugged. “Not really.” Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? They’re going to think I’m a moron.
Meg turned to us and held up an insulated lunch bag. I hadn’t had one of those since second grade. “Got it,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Do you like Korean movies too?” I asked her, trying to keep this train wreck going for some reason.
“I’ve seen a lot of them. But I’m not really into them like Alan is. I don’t understand how he can watch the same ones over and over.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re know you’re just jealous of my mad cultural pride,” Alan said.
She patted him patronizingly on the back. “That must be it.”
“Hey, you liked Il Mare!”
“Yeah,” she conceded. “That one was actually pretty good.”
“Il mare?” I asked, my ears perking up at the familiar words. “Like, the sea?”
Alan and Meg stared at me.
“What? I take Italian. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” Shut up. You’re making it worse.
Meg smiled. “I know. You’re in Honors English.”
“Yeah, my guidance counselor has been trying to get me into honors classes for a while. I finally agreed this semester because I figure it’ll help seal the deal on my scholarship with UCLA.”
Meg was quiet for a moment, then said, “UCLA, huh?”
“Yeah. My mom and I went on a road trip to see a bunch of soccer schools over Christmas break. As soon as I got to the UCLA campus, I knew that’s where I wanted to go. They have a kickass team, and the weather’s nice, like, all the time. Plus, it’s California, so the people are generally cool. I talked to the coaches and did the whole unofficial visit thing, and they’re really interested in me.”
Meg nodded and got this far-off, dreamy look in her eyes.
Alan saw it too and obviously understood it better than I did, because he immediately changed the subject. “Anyway, the Korean title of Il Mare is Siworae. It’s about these two people who are in love but living two years apart. The only way for them to communicate is through this magic mailbox.”
“There was an American remake with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves,” Meg said, clearly trying to get her mind off whatever it was that had upset her.
“The Lake House,” I said.
Again, Meg and Alan stared at me.
I shrugged. “My mom loves that movie.”
We arrived at the cafeteria and went our separate ways. But it was clear that things had changed. I was one step closer to being a part of Meg’s world.
? ? ?
“You looked like you could use some help,” Alan says, dragging me back to the here and now. Of course he’d be at a party meant for the whole incoming senior class. Of course I’d run into him here.
The look in his eyes is pretty damn close to the one in my mom’s—M, E, and G bobbing up and down in a pool of sadness—but there’s a difference. Alan isn’t sad for me. He’s just plain old sad. Because he lost Meg too.
Something starts to bubble up inside me, but I shove it down before it can show itself.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Thanks.” I sit down, right there, halfway up the hill, with Hope’s car seat. She’s kind of on an incline, but it’s sturdy enough. And hey, when she wakes up, she’ll have a great view of the lake.
Alan sits too. He rests his forearms on his knees. He’s got his red WWSOD bracelet on. What would Sandra Oh do? The corner of my mouth turns up in a pathetic attempt at a smile. The guy is freaking obsessed with famous Koreans.
“I called you,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“A lot.”