Page 33 of Somewhere Only We Know
Jack laughed. “Those shoes are blushing.”
Iflushed at that. “Uh, we’ll take them,” I said.
We were outside a few minutes later and I was happily bouncing in the shoes. “Did you guys date or something?” I blurted out.
A sharp ray of sunshine slanting into the alley hit the planes of Jack’s face. “What?”
Why did I ask that. “Just wondering. You guys seemed… close,” I said, feeling embarrassed for even bringing this up. Way to be jealous, Lucky.
With his head tilted toward the sun, he blinked one eye closed and looked at me. “It’s not like that.”
That should have been reassuring, but his vagueness annoyed me. Lina had acted kind of weird. Maybe she liked him and he didn’t realize it? I frowned. Boys were the worst. “I’m going to pay her back for these shoes, you know.”
We reached an intersection and people crowded around us as they waited for the walk signal. Jack sighed. “You don’t have to worry about it!”
“Listen. I know I met you whilst wearing hotel slippers, but I don’t need pity shoes from random girls.”
The light turned green, but Jack didn’t move ahead, not being navigation-bossy as he had been all morning. Instead, he stared at me. “Whilst?”
“Yeah, whilst!” I huffed, moving ahead to cross the narrow street.
Jack was right behind. “Sometimes you speak Englishrealweird.”
“Are you implying that because you lived in the United States for a handful of years more than me, you speak better English?!” I stopped walking and faced Jack as I stepped up onto the curb.
“No, I’m saying you speak weird. Like, all formal.”
We skirted past a group of schoolchildren in knee socks and caps. “I don’t have a lot of people to speak English to. Maybe I’ve picked up some expressions from my historical romance novels.” As soon as I said it, I had regrets. Bracing myself for the usual judgmental comments about “bodice rippers.”
But Jack didn’t say anything rude or judgy. He furrowed his brow and asked, “Did you feel awkward moving to Korea? Like, did you feel Korean enough? I often feel so…Americanhere.”
I was surprised by this sudden change in topic. Jack seemed so confident all the time. Unflappable. But I understood what he was saying.
“It was stressful at first. People made fun of my accent.” I remembered the cliques of Korean girls that had formed in the dorms, how me and a girl from the Philippines, Carolina, had been ostracized and forced to form an alliance even though we had nothing in common and actually got on each other’s nerves.
“Is your Korean really good now?” Jack hopped down some steps to avoid stepping on a discarded tissue.
I sidestepped the offensive paper. “Yeah. Once you’re there, it’s like… the mother tongue returns in full force.”
He laughed. “Does that feel good? To speak Korean well?”
“Hm. I guess it does? You grew up with a lot of other Asian kids, right?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Like, half my school.”
“Same,” I said, chewing on my lip in concentration. “So, I felt very Korean? Like, I’m connected to these roots, I have no identity issues! But then I got to Korea and felt like… an alien or something. It made me so embarrassed that I didn’t speak Korean that well.”
“Like it was a reflection of your bad upbringing or something?” he asked.
“Yes!” I pointed at him. “Exactly that!”
Jack shook his head. “My family went to Seoul last year and when my sister couldn’t speak Korean very well to a cab driver he started like, berating my parents. Saying they should have done a better job.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wow. Rude.”
“Right?” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked next to me. Our elbows bumped with the movement. “Anyway. My mom gave him an earful, of course, but I still felt a little ashamed. Like a bad Korean kid.”
I let out a short laugh. “That’s kind of the low-key feeling all Korean kids have. Guilt—the greatest motivator.”
