Jason tied up his shoes just as Grandma entered the house. She just stared at him, and he said, “Hello, Mrs. Kim.” She gave him the slightest of head nods, like I mean barely a muscle moved in her neck.
“Bye Krista, bye Mrs. Kim.” He waved at my mom. “Thank you for the leftover bulgogi. It was delicious!”
Grandma raised her eyebrows when Jason said bulgogi. After the door closed, she said to my mom, “Why that boy always here?”
My mom said, “He’s Krista’s best friend.”
“Krista!” Grandma turned and barked at me. “Soup in car.” Did I mention that my grandmother doesn’t like me either? I sighed, but I tried not to sigh loud enough for her to hear, and said, “Okay, Grandma, I’ll go get it.”
She prepared the pot of soup at home and then transferred it to our house in a cardboard banana box that she got from the grocery store. That way, the pot was secure in the trunk and couldn’t slide around. The banana box usually had other Korean food in it too. Grandma loved to feed my dad. Since my dad was a surgeon, she pretty much thought he was the perfect son. Grandpa died a few years ago, so she was on her own. She came over at least once a week now, and she always brought food to our house just so she could watch Dad eat it. A little bit creepy, I thought.
When I entered the house, I could hear Grandma saying, “Alice, she never get married if she dress like that! Tomboy! Krista, she must stop playing with boys and acting like boy. Disgraceful. Look at her shoes. So terrible!” She was talking about my running shoes. They were getting a little shabby, but I didn’t think they were totally ready for the garbage yet. Her comment pretty much summed up what my grandmother thought about me—awkward tomboy who was never going to get a good husband. Grandma thinks every girl’s goal in life should be to marry a doctor, or to have a son who becomes a doctor.
I slammed the door closed so they could hear me and stop talking about me. I looked at what I was wearing. Jeans, a little roughed-up around the knees, but no actual holes yet, white ankle socks, and a black t-shirt. I know I don’t dress “fancy” like some girls, but I like to be comfortable. My grandmother just doesn’t like the fact that I don’t care about how I look the way she does.
Tori came downstairs just then. Grandma smiled. “Tori, aigoo so beautiful!” She gushed about Tori’s looks all the time. Tori was the grandchild she adored. We all know she is the pretty one, and I am the “other one.” Tori dressed very fashionably and always seemed to look put together. She took time in the morning to get dressed and even wore a little makeup now that she was in high school.
My mom leaned over to me and whispered, “You’re beautiful too, Krista. Don’t forget that.”
Whatever, Mom. I rolled my eyes. My mom always tried to make me feel equal to Tori, but I wasn’t blind. My grades weren’t even as good as Tori’s.
Grandma started getting dinner ready for us. We have a don’t-wait-for-Dad policy in our house. If he’s not home by 6pm, too bad, we’re eating. Today, we ate without him.
When he finally came home, he dropped his cell phone, pager, and car keys on the hall table and said, “How was your day, kiddo?” He gave everybody their usual kiss and for me, a hair rumple. He wouldn’t dare touch Tori’s hair anymore.
“Good. Why are you so late?” I asked him.
“Sorry, emergency at the hospital,” he replied.
He was still wearing his hospital scrubs, which was usually okay, but sometimes he came home with dried blood on him without even realizing it—like today.
“Did anybody die?” I asked, pointing to the blood on his top. I always wanted to know if somebody died.
“Gross, Krista. Why do you care so much about people having heart attacks and dying?” Tori said as she sat on the sofa reading a fashion magazine.
“I just want to know!”
“Krista, nobody died today.” My dad grinned. “Does that disappoint you?”
“Well, a little bit,” I answered truthfully.
“Girls, let your dad eat,” my mom interjected. “Grandma has been waiting for him for hours.”
My grandmother busied herself warming up the soup for my dad and uncovered all the little plates of banchan she had kept under plastic wrap while we waited for him. She seemed really happy. Like, truly happy serving my dad dinner. My mom never looked that happy serving us dinner. She usually seemed agitated and busy trying to get it all ready, but Grandma floated around the kitchen. She was even wearing pearls today. She likes to look good even while standing over a hot stove. I just do not understand that woman sometimes.
CHAPTER 3
This year, my teacher’s name is Mrs. June. She has some crazy long last name, so she told us we could just call her Mrs. June to make it easy for everybody. So far, class was okay. Jason and I worry at the end of every year that they will put us in different classes. My mom and Jason’s mom always have meetings with the principal to make sure they don’t split us up. I heard them talking about it once. They think it’s important for us to stay in the same class. It’s a pretty big school and there is always more than one class for each grade. So this year, when we got our class assignments, we let out our usual sighs of relief. We don’t have to sit together all the time, we’re not that dependent on each other, but we just couldn’t imagine what to do
