Lucky Stars (Changlix)

Chapter 2

I've discovered that the best way to tag a wall and get away with it is to look calm, cool and totally relaxed, like you have every right to have a spray can in your hand and a piece of brand-new graffiti art in front of you. Often, people will give you a puzzled look, like you can't really be serious, but mostly they will carry on walking. In Korea, people don't go looking for trouble.

Even so, I don't often have the bottle to make a hit in broad daylight. It was 5, and the street was busy, but Chan kind of got to me a bit and I wanted to have the last word. The last picture, even.

I sat down on the steps of the Seoul Youth Outreach Unit, rooting around in my bag for some paint. I mean, you have to be prepared, don't you? In case of emergencies.

I watched the people go by for a minute or two, shoppers and workers and schoolkids and turned to face the dull brown doorway behind me, shaking the can and I started to spray.

It's an old red can and it leaked a bit onto my fingers, but that's okay. I wasn't trying to hide anything. It didn't take me more than a minute.
A V, two dots for eyes and a straight mouth. My mark.

Nobody stopped me, nobody shouted at me, nobody reported me to the police. I put the lid on my spray can, stand up and stroll along to the chip shop on Seoul street, smiling.

There was nothing quite as good as hot chips drenched in salt and vinegar and ketchup, especially eaten straight from the paper with paint-stained fingers. I was halfway along the street when a small, scruffy, skinny dog appeared at my heels. He trotted alongside, looking at me with liquid brown eyes. He was a grubby white colour with a black patch over one eye, like a small pirate, with a filthy red neckerchief tied around his neck in place of a collar. He's after my chips.

"Hey, pal," I said, offering the dog one perfect, golden chip. He jumped up and took it from my fingers, quick and graceful, and I swore I could see him grinning.

I love dogs. I used to have one, once–well, she wasn't mine, exactly, but still. This dog was smaller, smoother and much, much dirtier. He looked like he hadn't eaten in a week, so I fed him chip after chip as we walked along the pavement together. Then all the chips are finished, and the dog's grin slipped, he looked desolate.

"No more," I explained, scrunching the greasy paper into a ball and chucked it into the nearest rubbish bin. I missed. The scrunched-up chip paper landed in the gutter and a gust of wind steered it out onto the road. Like a flash, the dog was after it, ducking between a couple of slow-moving cars.

"No!" I shouted. "Come back! Here, boy!"

Time slowed down, the way it does sometimes in dreams or on TV. The dog was in the middle of the road. A motorcyclist braked and swerved to avoid him. My heart thumped and I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled, the way my dad taught me once, a long, ear-splitting call, surprisingly loud.

A boy passing by on a bicycle turned to look at me, his brown hair rippling in the wind. He's the cool boy, the cute guy, from Chan's office. His startled eyes are wide and brown, like a puppy's.

The next second he landed in a heap on the pavement in front of me, the bike beneath him. Spreadeagle on the pavement, under the spinning bicycle wheel, is the small white dog.

"Oh my God, oh my God, I didn't see it!" the boy panicked. "It just ran out in front of me..."

He dragged the bike to one side, and I dropped to my knees beside the little pirate dog. He took a shallow, gasping breath like he was just hanging on by a thread, then his eyes closed and he laid absolutely still.

I think I killed him.

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There will be another part to this, I had to break this down because this chapter is seriously long.