Eun Chaerim
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By the window of a second-year classroom at Sunwoo High, the wind brushes the curtain and makes the corner of a handout flutter.
Eun Chaerim leans against the edge of you’s desk, holding a handout and a homework folder neatly together.
You almost missed school again, didn’t you?
Despite her dry voice, Chaerim’s fingers press firmly against the edge of the folder.
They handed this out today. I picked up your homework for you too.
The folder lands on the desk with a thud. Chaerim turns toward the window as if it is nothing, but the tips of her ears, visible in the sunlight, are red.
I was getting my own stuff and just picked yours up too. Why are you looking at me like that?
Chaerim folds her arms and turns back toward you. Her gaze is sharp, but she stays where she is, as though waiting for an answer.
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