“I’m sure.”
With the remaining money, Eunhye had taken Dahye to get a latte at the café downstairs, the two of them giggling furiously. Any lingering animosity had disappeared by then. Their mother never allowed them to spend money on frivolous things, andoutside the mall, they sat on a ledge next to the fountain, passing the cup back and forth until only a thin layer of foam remained. Their thighs were pressed together, and Eunhye had sighed, resting her head against Dahye’s shoulder. How warm she had been. How badly Dahye had wished for her life with her sister to be like that, always.
“Earth to Dahye,” Bora said, snapping her fingers. “Come back to me.”
“I’m here,” Dahye said automatically. Bora tugged her arm.
“Are you going to try these on?”
“I will,” Dahye said, though she was still distracted. They went to the dressing rooms in the back. The first dress was too small, and the second was too big. Dahye shuffled through the entire pile while Bora stood outside, handing her more things to try. Finally, Bora passed her a leather skirt and a sheer black top.
“That’s the one,” Bora said, nodding in approval when Dahye emerged, the skirt tight over her hips. “It’s hot but doesn’t make it look like you’re trying too hard.”
“Are you sure?” Dahye looked down. “It doesn’t really … feel like me.”
“I thought that was the point.”
Dahye rolled her eyes and went back into the dressing room, closing the door. She unzipped the skirt and held it close to her face, breathing in its musky, warm scent. It was the kind of beautiful thing her sister would have loved.
They paid and made their way outside on the escalators. Dahye stood next to Bora, her heart clenched like a fist. If they took just a few steps to the right, they’d find the ledge where Dahye had once sat with Eunhye, sharing a coffee, their hands wet with condensation.
Once again, Dahye had the feeling she was being watched.
Don’t look.
She turned. The ledge was empty. Water spurted out of the fountain, splashing the ground. Dahye froze. People passed them on the sidewalk, and the traffic hummed, starting and stopping.
+
All Dahye had wanted was to show her parents that Eunhye wasn’t as perfect as they thought her to be. Over the years, Dahye’s resentment had grown until she could feel little else. Beautiful Eunhye. Smart Eunhye. Kind Eunhye. It was bullshit. In front of Omoni and Abeoji, Eunhye was an angel. But she was neither kind nor beautiful when she was accusing Dahye of stealing her clothes or calling her a bitch.
They didn’t know about Eunhye’s secrets. How, every night, before going to bed, she wrote about them in a little black book.
“What is that?” Dahye asked innocently. She hovered, trying to catch a glimpse of her sister’s minute writing. She thought she could see a name—Jihoon.Her heart fluttered. Who was Jihoon? She had never heard that name before. Her sister had never mentioned a boy before.
“Nothing.” Glowering, Eunhye covered the page with her hand, then shut the notebook with a snap.
Dahye’s curiosity burned. “Is it a book?” she asked. “Are you writing a story?”
Eunhye pondered that. “Kind of,” she answered. She said nothing else. Getting up, she lifted the corner of her mattress, carefully tucked the notebook under, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Dahye stared at the place where the book was hidden.
Lately, Eunhye had been fidgety. Nervous. When Dahye stepped into their room, Eunhye would jump as though she was up to no good. And the previous night, Dahye had woken upto hear her sister’s soft crying, muffled by her pillow. Did this Jihoon person have something to do with it?
Dahye strained to hear beyond the room. Her mother was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Her father was in the shower. If she closed her eyes, she could visualize the apartment from above. Slowly, she came to the realization that Eunhye was heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Perhaps she would sit on the couch afterward, sipping from the glass.
Perhaps she would leave Dahye alone in the room for a few minutes longer.
Dahye’s eyes flew open. She tiptoed toward her sister’s side of the room and slid her hand under the mattress, finding the smooth cover of the book. Her fingers found the corners. Careful not to make any noise, she began to pull it out when the door swung open. She froze.
It took a second for Eunhye to understand what was happening. A mixture of confusion and surprise flickered across her face, and then she lunged toward Dahye, ripping the book from her hands. They struggled. Eunhye, bigger and heavier than Dahye, climbed on top, pressing Dahye into the wood floor.
“Let it go, damn it—” Dahye could hear the desperation in her sister’s voice and felt two sharp blows across her temple. Her hand went limp.
Eunhye sat up, panting. “This is mine,” she hissed through her teeth. “Mine, Dahye! You can’t have everything. I have to have something of my own.” Up close, Dahye noticed for the first time how Eunhye’s complexion had grown dull. How she had picked off all the dry patches on her lips, leaving them raw and bleeding.
“You have everything, and I have nothing,” Dahye tried to say. But stars danced across her vision, and her mouth tastedfunny, like coins. After a moment, a hand was shoved unceremoniously into her face, and Eunhye helped her up.
“Are you okay?” Eunhye touched Dahye’s temple. “I’m sorry I hit you.”