XOXO (An XOXO Novel)

At one point during Jaewoo’s address to the student body, he looks directly into the crowd and I instinctively lower into my seat, which is unnecessary. He can’t see me, sitting as I am in the back row, farthest from the stage.

Unlike with the principal, I listen attentively to his speech. His low, smooth voice, accentuated by the mic at the podium, fills the hall. He’s not even saying anything that interesting—his words sound rehearsed—and yet everyone is enraptured, giving him their full and complete attention.

“Class president, lead singer of XOXO, handsome, and kind. What can Jaewoo not do?” Angela says dreamily.

Answer texts, I think to myself, though I don’t say it aloud.

“Did you know he writes all the lyrics for XOXO’s songs?” Gi Taek says.

That surprises me. Though I don’t know why it should.

“Sometimes another writer or another member works with him,” Gi Taek continues, “but he’s credited on all their songs.”

“No wonder he’s the most popular in XOXO,” Angela says.

This time I’m not surprised. Of course he would be.

Jaewoo finishes his speech to deafening applause, bowing before walking to the wings. The principal then comes back out to introduce the assembly’s guest, a pianist from Ewha Womans University, an SAA alumna a few years back, who performs a medley of piano arrangements from popular Korean dramas. Afterward, we’re dismissed to our homerooms.

Mine is in A Building, which is beside the student center, and attached to the cafeteria. Neither Gi Taek nor Angela are in my homeroom, but we do share a few other classes. We agree to meet for lunch before heading in opposite directions.

The hall outside my homeroom is already crowded, students calling out to each other and catching up after a long winter break. I spot Sori up ahead, noticeably alone again, and hurry in her direction.

“Jenny-nuna!” Youngmin barrels toward me, stopping short of collision. “How’s your first day of school going? If you ever need someone to point you in the right direction, just ask me!”

I blink at him, surprised that he’s talking to me. Though I don’t know why I should be, he was so friendly in the uniform store. I glance around and a few people are looking at me curiously, but most are grinning at Youngmin.

“Nice hair, Youngmin-ah,” someone says, and I notice that his hair color’s changed since I last saw him, now a midnight blue when before it had been cerulean.

“It’s going great,” I say, once his attention has shifted back to me. “And I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“If it isn’t Jenny,” a low voice says in English. Nathaniel.

I shift to face him. I’m about to answer in kind when I notice Sori down the hall. At the same time, she meets my gaze. Quickly she turns away and enters a classroom.

“Is something the matter?” Nathaniel asks.

“No . . .” For a moment—before she looked away—there was an expression on her face that I hadn’t expected to see. Misery. “It’s nothing. What’s your homeroom?”

“Classroom B.”

“Mine too.” I sigh in relief. It’ll be nice to have one friendly face in homeroom.

“Ai—shh,” a voice groans from behind me. “It’s only the first day back and I’m already worn out.”

I freeze in place.

In front of me, Youngmin’s eyes light up. “Jaewoo-hyeong! We missed you this morning.”

“Ah, yeah, I meant to take the van with you, but Sun wanted me to listen to a track in the studio.”

“Your speech was inspiring,” Nathaniel says, deadpan.

“I wrote it for you,” Jaewoo replies, not missing a beat.

“Have you met Jenny?” Youngmin says.

“Jenny?”

I knew this moment would happen eventually, but I thought it would be somewhere less public, or at least come as a surprise so that I wouldn’t have time to freak out, like I am now.

I take a deep breath and turn around.

Our eyes meet. His widen slightly, and it’s like I can see a million thoughts flit across his face in the space of a second. Then his expression shutters. “Ah,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

My heart sinks. I didn’t think he’d be happy to see me, not after the way he ignored my texts, but I didn’t think he’d pretend we’d never met.

“We ran into Jenny at the uniform store the other day,” Youngmin informs Jaewoo, who nods absently. “She’s from LA.”

“Is that right?” He turns to Nathaniel. “I have to go pick up something from the office.” He adds, as an afterthought, “Fix your tie. You’ll get demerits on the first day back.”

I think he’s talking to me, but then Nathaniel says, “It’s not like they’ll kick me out.”

“One can hope.”

And then he’s gone, walking down the hall without a backward glance.

“I’m going to be late to class!” Youngmin says. “Bye, Jenny, Nathaniel-hyeong!” He gallivants off in the opposite direction to Jaewoo.

“That’s our classroom,” Nathaniel points a few doors down. “Shall we?”

I follow him, though I’m not really paying attention to where I’m going. What just happened? In all the scenarios I’d imagined for our second meeting, I never thought Jaewoo would dismiss me. It’s like in this new setting, he’s a completely different person.

“Jenny?” Nathaniel’s waiting for me, sliding back the door to the classroom. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” I hurry forward.

Inside, the classroom is laid out with rows of desks facing a whiteboard. The teacher hasn’t yet arrived, so I check the seating chart on the podium at the front of the room. I’m seated a row from the back, next to the windows. As I approach my desk, I notice that all the seats are paired in twos, and my seatmate is none other than Sori. She appears as thrilled as I am at this turn of events.

“Good morning,” I say. At least I can attempt a new start.

She turns her head to look out the window.

I sigh, pulling out my seat. On the opposite side of the classroom, Nathaniel is seated by a tall, lanky boy who is engaging him in animated conversation.

Everyone seems to be talking to their seatmates, except for Sori and me. I wonder if we could have been friends if I hadn’t bumped into her desk and read the message on that postcard.

A message that had been signed: XOXO. Which could either be a well-used sign off or . . . a secret hidden in plain sight.

I go through the possible candidates. Youngmin’s too young, I can’t see it. Sun maybe, but he wasn’t in the hallway just now, when I caught sight of Sori’s expression. Also, the end of the postcard was written in English, not Korean. Which leaves Jaewoo and Nathaniel. I look over at Nathaniel, who’s currently laughing and joking with his seat partner, the complete opposite of my roommate. Sori and Jaewoo share at least one thing in common: At any given moment, I have no idea what either of them are thinking.

My phone chirps in my pocket. I slip it out to see a text from my mom.

I paid the school your tuition. My scholarship only accounted for half. Let me know if there are any issues.

I text back, Okay. Thanks, Mom.

No, “hope you’re having a good first day of school,” but that’s not a surprise.

I’m about to put my phone away, when I hesitate. I open up my messages and scroll back to a few days ago, to when I sent the text message to Jaewoo that I was coming to Seoul.

Hey, so, I’m actually going to be in Korea for a couple of months to visit my grandmother. If you’re around, I’d love to see you.

The message is now marked “read.”

I blink a few times. But when did he read it? A few days ago or just now when he saw me in the hall?

Sori bumps me hard in the shoulder and I look up to see a girl standing in front of my desk, tapping her shoe against the floor.

“You have to wear the uniform correctly,” she says, pointing to my sloppy tie, “otherwise the whole classroom will be penalized.”

Is she serious? I look over at Sori, but she’s gone back to staring out the window.

“Hurry,” the girl says, “you still have a few minutes.”

I scramble up from my seat.

Outside in the empty hall, I pick a direction at random, hoping to stumble upon a bathroom. I curse my past self who hadn’t carefully read the rule book. I’m going to be late for my first day of class.

“Student!” A teacher approaches down the hall, and I sigh in relief. He can help me— “You need to be in your classroom right now!”

I stare at him, confused why he’s so angry. “I was told I needed to fix my tie—” I begin.

“Your classroom, now!” He’s literally yelling at me, spittle flying.

“You don’t understand. I’m a new—”

“GET TO YOUR CLASSROOM!”

And now I’m on the verge of tears. Why is he shouting at me? “But—”

“Seonsaengnim.” Jaewoo appears from out of nowhere, addressing the teacher by his title. “She’s a new student. I was showing her to her classroom.”

Suddenly the teacher is all smiles. “Ah, Jaewoo-ssi. Of course.”

Jaewoo gives him a close-lipped smile, bowing as the teacher walks away. He then presses his hand lightly against my back, leading me to a door that he pushes open.

We’re in a stairwell, light filtering in through a skylight above us. I step forward, taking deep breaths. When I’ve composed myself, I turn to face Jaewoo who’s now leaning against the door.

“Are you all right?” he asks in English.

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks for . . .” I wave in the direction of the hallway in a gesture that’s meant to encompass everything.

“He shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says gently.

I stare at him, wary. He’s acting like he did back in LA, a complete one-eighty from pretending like we’d never met.

“Why weren’t you in your homeroom?” he asks.

“A girl told me if my uniform broke regulations the whole class would be penalized.”

Jaewoo offers a sympathetic smile. “She was just messing with you.”

That’s so mean! I’m a new student! Why didn’t Sori say anything?

“Still,” Jaewoo says, “uniform violations will get you points off your next test, that or you’ll be made to run around the track field a few times.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Wow, Korean schools are pretty strict.

“The truth is . . .” I kick my feet against the floor. This is embarrassing. “I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He shakes his head. “What kind of education were you getting in the States?”

“A public school education.”

He steps away from the door, his hands reaching for my collar. Slowly, he loosens the sloppy knot I’d managed this morning. A small crease forms between his brows as he concentrates. Undoing the knot, he evens out the sides of the tie. Sliding one side down, his knuckles brush my shirt. I suck in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” he says, hands going still for a moment. He bites his lip, then continues, Adam’s apple bobbing.

He makes a new knot by slipping the tie through a hole and pulling gently.

I observe him as he works. Unlike when I met him in LA, he’s not wearing makeup. He looks younger without it, but just as handsome. His left arm is also clearly not broken anymore, as he uses his left hand to hold the tie in place, tightening the knot. The tattoos on his wrist are gone too.

“What are you doing here, Jenny?” he asks softly.

“I swear I didn’t follow you,” I say.

He pauses in his movements. He blinks once, twice, then laughs. “I’m not as self-absorbed as that. Not yet, at least. I meant, what are you doing here in Korea, at this school?”

I frown. “Didn’t you get my text?”

“What text?”

“The one I sent you, you know, where I told you I was going to be in Seoul for a few months.”

He sighs, does one more pull on my tie, then drops his hands. “My phone was confiscated. After that night in LA, my manager took it away. I was given a company phone a week later, with approved contacts. What did you say?”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

Now it’s his turn to frown.

I didn’t say anything that revealing, but I’ll let him stew in curiosity for once. Above us, the school bell rings.

“We better go,” I say.

“I’ll walk you to class.”

We exit the stairwell and head back down a now empty hall.

“I’m sorry,” Jaewoo says after taking a few steps, “for not texting you. I . . . wanted to.”

I study him out of the corner of my eye. His lips are pressed together, his expression conflicted.

“Why did you pretend like you didn’t know me earlier?” I ask.

“I didn’t want people to know we’ve met before. I trust my classmates, but rumors have started from less. If it was just me to consider . . .”

We reach the door to my classroom. Inside, I can see the figure of an adult at the podium. “Jenny,” Jaewoo stops me. “The thing is”—he watches me carefully, gauging my reaction—“we don’t have to pretend we don’t know each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“When it’s just . . . you and me.”

“Like secret friends?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, when you put it that way, it sounds bad.”

I wonder if I should be offended. I mean normally I would be, but I’m sure he probably has more things in his life to consider than a friendship with some random girl from LA—his reputation as an idol, for one.

“I get it,” I say. “Things aren’t exactly normal for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, a tentative smile on his lips.

Still, I don’t have to agree to a secret friendship, not when I have people in my corner willing to be my friend, like Angela and Gi Taek. Even Nathaniel and Youngmin have been friendly, and in public too. What makes Jaewoo and my relationship so different? Is it because he’s the class president, the most popular member in the group, a “prince” in nickname and reputation?

Maybe it’s my hurt pride, but I have enough on my plate right now—adjusting to a new school, getting into a top music school of my choice. I don’t know if I want to put in the energy into figuring him out.

“As for being friends . . .” I step closer, and he leans in, almost instinctively. “I’ll think about it.”

His smile drops.

Reaching for the door of the classroom, I slide it back.