Just recalling the contents of the shame book made his face burn with embarrassment. It was filled with criticisms and mockery, too difficult to say out loud.

    Suddenly, one passage came to mind. It said that Chase Prescott’s brain was located in two parts of his body, and the lower one was more active and had more wrinkles.

    Of course, most of it had been written by Justin, but Chase Prescott had no way of knowing that.

    Now, in the last period of A-day, the Honors English Composition class that he shared with Chase was about to begin. Jeong-in paced the hallway outside the classroom, unable to go in. Just then, the vice principal walking down the hallway warned him.

    “Hey, the second bell has rung. Get to class.”

    “…Yes.”

    Jeong-in answered weakly and turned around.

    As soon as he opened the door and entered the classroom, his eyes met Chase’s, who was sitting in the middle. Jeong-in quickly averted his gaze as if he hadn’t seen him at all and headed to the very back. As he passed by Chase, a small “heh” of laughter brushed past his ear.

    The class was continuing to cover rhetorical techniques in literature from the previous session.

    As the class was nearing its end, Davis, the teacher, announced the report topic that had to be submitted by the end of the semester. It was an important assignment that would significantly impact their grades this term.

    “As previously announced, I’m assigning the end-of-semester report. This report will be written in pairs, and it accounts for 20% of your grade this semester.”

    A low murmur spread among the students.

    “Now, please freely choose your partners. Anyone without a partner, come to the front and I’ll pair you up.”

    As soon as Davis finished speaking, the classroom became busy. Students moved around forming pairs, creating a continuous low buzz of conversation.

    Jeong-in deliberately kept his head down, trying to remain completely unnoticed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a female student approaching Chase. She was playing with her hair and giving him a shy smile.

    They’ll probably be partners.

    Jeong-in planned to find someone else who was alone after most pairs had formed. However, things didn’t go as he expected.

    Chase, who had been smiling and talking with the female student, turned toward Jeong-in and, without hesitation, came over and sat down next to him.

    “Mr. Prescott, have you chosen your partner?” 

    To Davis’s question, Chase casually replied “Yes,” while putting his arm around Jeong-in’s shoulder as if showing off. Jeong-in’s face alternated between turning pale and burning hot.

    “Now, I’ll announce the topic. Choose one book with your partner from George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm,’ Mark Twain’s ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,’ or Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice.'”

    The assignment was to write an essay about the power of irony and satire in writing. They needed to read the chosen book and analyze what rhetorical effects were used, and how rhetorical techniques such as irony, satire, and humor played a role in conveying the message and creating empathy with readers.

    “Your final grade this semester will be the sum of your midterm exam, mini essays, and this group report.”

    Jeong-in had a good idea of Chase Prescott’s intentions. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been taken advantage of.

    Most likely, he would end up writing this report all by himself. And when it came time to submit, both their names would be on it side by side.

    Perhaps Chase was offering to return the bag in exchange. Even so, that would be getting off easy. If that’s all it took, he’d consider himself lucky.

    When the teacher told them to discuss and select a work right away, Jeong-in spoke first.

    “I’ve read ‘Animal Farm’ before, so we could do that one, and don’t worry. I’m pretty good at writing reports…”

    “Animal Farm? Why are you deciding?”

    Chase’s question made Jeong-in’s brow furrow slightly. Not only would he have to write the report alone, but now Chase was questioning his choice of topic?

    “I’ll just go with something I can write easily. Don’t worry about the grade. I’ll make sure we get an A.”

    As Jeong-in spoke calmly, he suddenly realized something. Chase Prescott’s grades, supposedly good enough for Harvard, might have been built this way—by exploiting nerds like himself.

    “What are you talking about?”

    Chase asked incredulously, and Jeong-in looked at him directly with an expression that suggested they shouldn’t waste time.

    “You’re going to make me do it anyway, right?”

    “Ha.”

    Chase let out a short, mocking laugh. Then, running his fingers through his golden hair, he twisted the corner of his mouth.

    “I think we should do ‘Pride and Prejudice’ instead of ‘Animal Farm.’ You’re full of prejudice after all.”

    Jeong-in looked at Chase with a puzzled expression before cautiously asking.

    “Are you really planning to participate?”

    “Of course. Should I not?”

    “No, that’s not what I meant…”

    “I clearly understand what you think of me. Evidently.”

    Chase’s use of the word ‘evidently’ carried a lot of meaning. He probably had in mind the mockery and criticism written in the shame book.

    After thinking for a moment, Jeong-in mumbled in a small voice.

    “…I’m sorry.”

    “Let’s do ‘Pride and Prejudice.’ Any objections?”

    Chase concluded firmly, and Jeong-in quietly nodded in agreement.

    After class, Chase leisurely packed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Jeong-in cautiously approached him.

    “Um… about… my bag… can I go get it now?”

    Chase looked down at Jeong-in quietly with an interested expression. He looked like he was contemplating what to do with him.

    “I have training now. Can you wait?”

    The training didn’t matter. Jeong-in was willing to endure anything if he could just get the shame book back. He nodded firmly.

    “Yes. I’ll wait.”

    “Then come with me.”

    Walking from the classroom to the football team’s locker room, Jeong-in stuck close to Chase and got to experience indirectly what it felt like to live as Chase Prescott.

    “Hi, Chase.”

    “Hi.”

    Girls passing by, regardless of grade level, greeted Chase brightly. It was evident they were trying to catch his eye, adjusting their hair or straightening their collars.

    “Hey, Golden Boy. Varsity team training starts today, right?”

    “Yes.”

    “We’re counting on you this year too. Give my regards to your parents.”

    Even the teachers approached him first, patting his back and offering encouragement. What would it feel like to live such a life where simply walking attracted people’s attention and favorable glances?

    After leaving the building and passing the basketball court, they reached the football team’s locker room.

    “Come in.”

    “Is… is that okay?”

    Jeong-in followed Chase, who nodded casually, into the locker room. As soon as they entered, the primal smell of sweat and the metallic scent of steel lockers hit his nose.

    The row of red lockers appeared twice as wide as the classroom hallway lockers, and each had a player’s name attached. They seemed designed to store bulky equipment.

    Between the facing lockers were long benches, perfect for players to sit while changing clothes and shoes. Brian Cole, who was just taking off his shirt while sitting on one of these benches, spotted Jeong-in and said playfully,

    “Thomson, your adopted son is here.”

    Darius Thomson, who revealed himself as he closed his open locker, recognized Jeong-in and nodded.

    “Hey, what’s up?”

    Jeong-in awkwardly waved hello. Just then, Max Schneider, who was putting on a pad vest over his compression shirt, suddenly seemed to remember something and asked Jeong-in,

    “Oh, aren’t you the dumpling friend?”

    “…If you mean Justin Wong, yes.”

    Jeong-in thought about calling out the racially insensitive comment but decided against it, considering his current predicament. Chase shook his head disapprovingly as he put his bag in the locker.

    “Schneider, stop with the dumpling talk already.”

    “But they were really delicious! I’ve tried them at Panda Express, but they don’t taste the same. I asked him to bring more, but he never did after that.”

    Jeong-in was glad he hadn’t mentioned racial discrimination. So it was because they actually tasted good.

    Panda Express was a Chinese fast-food chain. It was naturally different from Justin’s family restaurant that sold traditional Chinese cuisine and dim sum.

    Justin’s family made dumplings using Grandma Meiling’s handed-down recipe. The xiaolongbao with its flowing juice inside was something Jeong-in often bought for himself. Every New Year, he would buy dumplings from Justin’s place to put in his rice cake soup.

    “If you want them that badly, go to Cobb Mall. Justin’s family runs a Chinese restaurant there.”

    Max Schneider’s eyes widened at Jeong-in’s casual remark.

    “What? Is that true?”

    “They taste even better freshly steamed. It’s called Wong’s Garden, on the second floor of the mall.”

    “I’m going right after practice today.”

    Max smacked his lips and asked Jeong-in,

    “By the way, what was your name again?”

    “Jay. Jay Lim.”

    “Thanks, Jay.”

    “N-no problem…”

    Jeong-in replied with an awkward smile. He was surprised and amazed at himself for having such a natural conversation with people he would normally never interact with. The whole situation felt strange yet oddly satisfying.

    With his face slightly flushed, Jeong-in suddenly met Chase’s eyes. Chase was smiling slightly as he watched Jeong-in chatting with his friends. That smile seemed like praise, or perhaps encouragement.

    Just as Chase grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt to pull it up, Jeong-in quickly averted his gaze.

    But his anxiously wavering eyes were drawn back to Chase automatically, like iron filings following a magnet. Chase revealed his body as he took off his t-shirt. His thick neck, intimidatingly broad shoulders, and the firm, defined muscles covering his solid torso. Every line forming his body looked as if it had been intricately carved after great deliberation by a sculptor, and appeared incredibly powerful.

    Jeong-in unconsciously held his breath. Chase seemed like a different species of life form. He felt goosebumps on his forearms from the awe he experienced.

    The players, now changed into their uniforms, noisily warmed up by knocking their headgear together and roughly pounding their chests and arms with their palms.

    Jeong-in recalled sled dogs from a documentary he had once seen, howling as they waited for the start signal. The energy and tension about to burst forth strangely overlapped with these players.

    As Jeong-in looked around awkwardly in this unfamiliar setting, Chase guided him naturally toward the field.

    “Stay over there next to the coach. Pay attention so you don’t get hit by the ball.”

    Chase’s index finger tapped Jeong-in’s glasses bridge for emphasis. Jeong-in nodded silently and approached the coach who was standing at the edge of the field with his arms crossed.

    “Hello.”

    Anderson, the school’s PE teacher who was in charge of the football team’s off-season physical training, raised his hand slightly in response. Jeong-in was also taking his class this semester. While the varsity team usually had external expert coaches, teachers with sports experience often supervised during the off-season.

    Jeong-in had just thought the players were like sled dogs, and coincidentally, there was equipment on one side of the field that looked like five sleds attached side by side. In front, a low, long frame extended like a sled, and on the back were pads decorated to look like they were wearing uniforms.

    Jeong-in asked Coach Anderson,

    “What’s that sled-like thing?”

    “It’s called a blocking sledge. It’s a device for building strength to push opponents.”

    Soon, five offensive players stood opposite the pads. Chase, the quarterback, was in the middle, with offensive tackle Darius Thomson and running back Max Schneider on either side. They lowered their stance, preparing to charge. To Jeong-in, they looked like beasts stalking their prey as they raised their fierce eyes to stare at the pads they would push.

    “Down, set, go!”

    With the coach’s signal, the players charged at the pads simultaneously.

    The heavy sledge moved forward with the dull sound of players striking the pads forcefully. Jeong-in felt a chill down his spine at the formidable display.

    “Donnelly! Put more power into it!”

    At the coach’s shout, the players caught their breath and gathered their strength again. For the five-person sledge to move in a straight line, all five needed to perfectly match their power and direction. It seemed effective for building not only physical strength but also teamwork.

    After the offensive and defensive players each made one round trip across the field, the coach blew his whistle briefly and shouted,

    “Add weight!”

    The players groaned in unison, but the coach paid no attention as he added thick pads on top of the sledge frame. Sometimes he would climb on himself to add weight, and his physique was quite intimidating. In his late 40s with a typical middle-aged man’s belly, he looked like he weighed a good 100kg.

    Just then, Chase suddenly gestured toward Jeong-in.

    “Jay! Come over here!”

    Other players who caught on to Chase’s intention joined in calling Jeong-in, motioning for him to hurry over.

    “Get up here.”

    “M-me?”

    As Jeong-in hesitated nervously, Chase strode over and lifted him as easily as a child, placing him on top of the sledge. Then, he winked at his teammates and said in a whisper.

    “Light as cotton candy.”

    The tired players gave Chase a thumbs up. Jeong-in carefully stood on the device, and the players casually took their positions in front of the pads. It was the offensive line’s turn again.

    “No breaks, straight to the end of the field. Down, set, go!”

    With a thud, the players pushed the sledge. The speed felt while riding on top was much faster than expected. The cool spring breeze brushed past Jeong-in. Though he had initially gripped the device tightly out of fear, at some point he found himself laughing like a child on an ice sled.

    “That’s it for today! Everyone attends indoor training, no skipping!”

    Practice ended with the coach’s whistle. While the players exchanged high fives, Chase naturally put his arm around Jeong-in’s shoulders. It was something he often did with teammates or friends, but experiencing it felt very strange and awkward. His arm was solid and heavy, like a stone wrapped around him.

    “Good job, assistant coach. I’ll go shower, so wait for me.”

    Chase ruffled Jeong-in’s hair lightly with the same hand that had been around his shoulder, then entered the locker room. Afterward, several players whose names Jeong-in didn’t know passed by, jokingly asking him to come to the next training session and replace Coach Anderson on the sledge.

    A long plastic bench was placed in front of the locker room. After hesitating, Jeong-in perched himself on the edge of it. Just then, cheerleader Ava Winslow came and sat on the opposite end. She was probably waiting for her boyfriend, Brian Cole.

    Jeong-in felt strangely pleased. Like Ava Winslow waiting for Brian Cole, he felt like someone special waiting for Chase Prescott. He felt as if his feet were floating an inch off the ground. But that feeling didn’t last long.

    From beside him, he heard Ava Winslow talking to someone on the phone.

    “Vivian bought it at that boutique on Robertson Boulevard. Chase probably helped her pick out her dress. They said they were going together. I don’t know why she’s making such a big deal about the Spring Fling when it’s not even prom.”

    Robertson Boulevard was a street lined with upscale boutiques and luxury stores, famous as a shopping destination for Hollywood stars.

    So Chase Prescott is going to the Spring Fling dance with Vivian Sinclair. They’re a couple after all.

    Note

    This content is protected.