The classroom smelled of bread before the first lesson began. Someone had brought a roll from the bakery; someone else was trying to eat hers without getting crumbs on her uniform. I liked arriving early enough for this part of the day, when nobody was being measured yet.
Sooyoung and Shim were there. With them I could be silly, even though other girls sometimes called me Princess. I knew what they meant: the pale face, the look that made me seem harder to approach than I was. I also knew I enjoyed it a little. At sixteen, I wanted to be seen and left alone in exactly the proportions I chose.
I wanted the same impossible arrangement with my schoolwork. I wanted good marks, but none of the public effort that seemed to accompany them. I studied hard; I simply preferred that it look easy. An answer could be wrong without anyone seeing the hours behind it. A good score, on the other hand, traveled. Teachers knew my name. Other students did too.
Once, when I was late to school and caught coming over the wall, a teacher sent me back to class quickly. Other students had been punished more. I was grateful, and I understood what had helped me. The small disgrace of being caught lasted minutes. The reputation that excused it had taken years to make.
In the classroom, Sooyoung and Shim were laughing at something I had missed. I pulled out my chair and asked them to tell me. Neither of them needed to know what I had scored on the last test before making room for me.
Shim began to explain. I was listening, or thought I was, until my hand found the notebook in my bag. There was one answer from yesterday's work I wanted to check before class. By the time I looked up again, they had moved on to another story.
I can still remember the smell of that bread. I wish I could remember what made them laugh. That evening, I would finish my work long before I was allowed to leave my desk.