adora • lookism

1. Fashion at J High

Feeling a light touch on her left shoulder, Ari made a soft sound of discontent. She was just about to get to the part where she could release the orphan quokkas from captivity, and she was certainly not about to leave before all those quokkas had been freed.

Another light tap, a little more insistent this time. "Mm, no," she said, burrowing her face further into her arms. "One min'..."

Just as she had her hand on the latch of the final cage, mere seconds from freeing the last group of quokkas smiling hopefully up at her, she felt a much sterner hand take hold of her other shoulder and shake her awake.

"Oi, Ari Lim. Wake the hell up."

Ari finally raised her head, no longer able to cling to her dream. Unhappy with being woken, she squinted at the offending hand on her shoulder and then at the boy who owned it, lounging indolently in the seat to her right.

"Zack," she mumbled, her eyes unfocused and bleary. "What's going on?"

He raised one fine, dark brow at her. "Teacher's here," he said.

"Okay." Ari reached up to rub the sleep-tears away with a half-closed fist. "Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever."

Remembering that there had been a couple far gentler attempts before Zack had taken things into hand, Ari tilted her head towards the boy sitting at the desk behind hers. She gave him as sweet a smile as her meagre energy could manage, her drooping eyes curved into half-moons. "Thank you, Jay."

Jay smiled shyly back at her, and then inclined his head towards the front of the room as a reminder that the teacher was there.

With great effort, Ari undertook the immense challenge of listening to what the teacher was saying rather than going back to sleep. Only, the teacher wasn't even saying anything of worth. He had only come to announce that there was a transfer student.

Ari disgruntledly thought to herself that this had better be a hell of a transfer student to foil the daring rescue she'd taken an entire quarter of an hour to successfully plot. Except that it wouldn't even matter who it was---it wasn't as if it would make a difference, unless the transfer was Daniel Park.

Amidst the rising noise of the classroom, Ari watched a tall boy enter the room and stiffly take the teacher's place at the front of the class. For a moment, she wondered to herself if perhaps he looked familiar. But no, it couldn't be. She had never seen him before in this entire life.

As Ari pressed down another yawn, the boy clasped his hands behind his back and opened his mouth.

"I'm Daniel Park," he said. His voice was clear and carrying, his enunciation so absolute that it was impossible to mistake his words. "Nice to meet you."

Ari froze in place, suddenly very awake.

Well then. That changed a few things.

• • • •

For a few days, Ari just watched him, neither introducing herself nor giving him the opportunity to introduce himself.

She knew that Daniel would settle into class like a rock thrown into a small pond: at first turbulently, then, in the midst of endless, rippling tides, with a gradual sink into peaceful integration. But it was hard to imagine that the class could ever be peaceful again when every one of her classmates was in such a furor. The break times and study blocks, which had been valuable resources for her to catch up on sleep, were now thrown into complete mayhem because of Daniel's mere presence. Every single thing he did was a hot topic, whether it was sitting down or eating lunch or accidentally swearing at a girl.