Young-hee and the Pullocho (4 page)

As Youngee approached her building, her mom came running up, frantic. “
Where's Young-beom?
” she asked, grabbing Young-hee's arm in panic.

“Wha?” said Young-hee, confused.

“Your brother, have you seen him?”

“No. I was walking around. I left him sleeping in your bedroom.”

“He's not there now. He must have woken up and wandered off.”

“He always wanders off.”

Immediately Young-hee realized she had said the wrong thing. “
Young-hee!
I don't need your attitude, not now. He's your little brother. You should have been watching him.” Young-hee frequently got lectured about her “attitude,” although she often didn't know why. “The movers didn't notice him walk out,” her mom went on. “He doesn't know this place at all. He's just a little boy. He's probably scared…”

Young-hee hated seeing her usually strong mother so fragile. “It's okay, mom. I'm sure he hasn't gone far. We'll find him.”

They split up, with Young-hee's mom turning right and heading down the street. Young-hee zipped across to the supermarket, to see if he was lured by the treats, but nothing. Walking quickly, she saw no renegade four-year-old walking alone or checking out the cranes and machinery in the recycling yards. She frantically looped around the complex until she found herself by the gatehouse again.

The setting sun threw shadows up and down the apartment, giving everything a warmer glow. Remembering the fountain and her brother's unrelenting need to make messes, she took off, half-running.

Then Young-hee heard a familiar laugh from around the corner. And, sure enough, there was the fountain and there was Bum, giggling with a security guard. Bum's eyes were red from crying, but now he was laughing and happy. As she approached, she saw it was Mr. Shin. “They were all running away, but to Tiger, it looked like they were running from Rabbit,” he said, making funny Tiger faces. “So Tiger says, ‘I had no idea Rabbit was so strong,' and he ran away as fast as he could.”

“Bum! There you are,” said Young-hee.

Bum looked up and shouted “
Nuna
!”—“big sister.” He jumped off the chair and ran to her.

“You know you shouldn't run off like that. Mom was so worried.”

“Sorry,” Bum said.

“I found him wandering by the side gate, crying,” said the guard. “I could see he was lost, but he couldn't remember where he lived.”

“Sorry, he likes to wonder off.”

“Oh, he's a little adventurer,” said the guard, tousling Bum's hair.

“No, he's just a dork.” Young-hee crouched down to make sure Bum wasn't missing any limbs. “Thanks for the help. We're not usually such a strange family.”

The gyeongbi laughed warmly. “We're here to help. Don't worry about it.”

Young-hee spent most of the walk back trying to drill their address into Bum's scattered mind. “We live in building 206, apartment 901,” she said. “Two-zero-six. Nine-zero-one. Remember that!”

“Uh-huh,” said Bum.

As they neared the apartment building, their mom caught sight of them. “Young-beom!” she exclaimed, running over. “You can't just wander off like that. I was so worried.” She held her boy tightly, so happy to have him back she forgot everything else. She took him by the hand and led him back to the apartment, barely looking at Young-hee.

Only then, watching them walk away together, did Young-hee realize that for at least five minutes, she hadn't felt stressed or frustrated by the move or the three rude girls or anything else. She had just been happy to find her brother—and just as suddenly, that good feeling was drifting away again. “So annoying,” she muttered.
Yeah, what an adventurer
.

✴ ✴ ✴

That evening, Young-hee sat at the kitchen table with her mom and brother, eating Chinese takeout. Black
jajang
sauce streaked the empty noodle bowls. Gooey, half-eaten
tangsuyuk
filled a cheap dish. Bum sat on his doting mother's lap.

“Who wants a big dumpling?” she asked, swirling a steamed
mandu
in front of Bum. “Does a big boy get a big dumpling?” Bum laughed as he tried to bite the dancing food. He had made his typical mess, and Young-hee felt herself scowl reflexively.

“He gets all the big dumplings?” asked Young-hee, looking at the small ones on her plate.

“It was a big day for Young-beom, wasn't it,” said mom. “Oh, does somebody have a beggar in his belly? How does he eat so much?”

Young-hee scowled at the trite saying.
How did “beggar in the belly” even make sense?
, she wondered. Instead, she thought about their day—moving into this lousy apartment, Bum getting lost, the mean girls laughing at her. But then she recalled the old security guards. “Mom? What does
maok
mean?”

“Maok? That's not a word. Do you mean
maehok
?”

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Oh, Young-hee, how did your Korean get so bad?”

That was not what Young-hee wanted to hear. Her parents had insisted on Korean school every Saturday when they lived abroad, and plenty of Korean homework every night. She had only forgotten one word. “But what does it mean?”

Her mom cleaned Bum's mouth with a napkin. “Fascinating. Or charming. Where did you hear it?”

“When I met a couple of the old gyeongbi guards this afternoon.”

“Ah, they must have found you interesting, then.”

Young-hee wondered if her mom was teasing. But no, she must have misheard the guard.

Then, at last, Young-hee's mom turned her attention to her daughter. “Young-hee,” she said softly, “Could you do the dishes? There's still so much to get done tonight, and I need to be at work early tomorrow.”

“If Bum's such a big boy, why doesn't he help?” she muttered, louder than she intended.

That earned her a sharp look that quickly softened. “Look, Young-hee,” her mother said, “I know this isn't what you wanted. But we're trying to restart our lives, all of us, and I need your help.”

For a moment Young-hee felt bad for her mom and all she had been through. She knew none of this was intentional, and that her mom needed her help. Young-hee could feel generous words on her tongue, but just couldn't say them. “I miss my friends,” Young-hee complained, poking a cold dumpling.

Her mom cast a tired glance at Young-hee. “You can always chat online. That's why I got that camera for your computer.” She stuck the chopsticks into another dumpling for Bum. “Besides, it's not like you had that many friends in Canada. You always used to complain about that.”

That comment stung, and Young-hee felt her mood grow darker. “I miss dad,” she said. Her mom stiffened briefly, as if absorbing a blow in a fight, then went back to playing with Bum.

Suddenly, Young-hee felt overwhelmed by emotions—from the move, the rude girls, her mom, her stupid brother, things she couldn't explain, and other things she couldn't admit. She left the table and stormed to her room, closing the door hard.

The Tiger and the Rabbit

One day Rabbit was strolling through the woods to the market to buy some vegetables when he heard the sad sound of someone crying. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” the voice cried. Rabbit looked and looked and finally found the voice. It belonged to Tiger, who had fallen into a tiger pit and was trapped.

“Hello?” said Rabbit, peering over the edge of the deep hole.

“Oh, Rabbit!” said Tiger, suddenly hopeful. “Please help me out of this hole.”

But Rabbit was wary. “I know you, Tiger,” he said. “If I got you out of that hole, you would only try to eat me.”

“No!” he protested. “I would be ever so grateful. I could give you a reward.”

“I fear my only reward would be being your dinner,” said Rabbit skeptically.

“Definitely not. How could I do that to someone who helped me? Please, before the men find and kill me.”

Rabbit took pity on Tiger, and decided to help. He found a strong length of rope, tied one end to a tree, and lowered the other to Tiger who climbed out. Once free, Tiger roared with joy. “That's so much better,” he said. “I was trapped in that hole for days, cold and hungry. Ever so hungry.” He looked at Rabbit, suddenly predatory.

“But Tiger, I just helped you,” protested Rabbit.

“Yes, and I appreciate it, but I am hungry. And you are definitely a big, yummy-looking rabbit.” Tiger moved forward ominously, intent on making a meal of the animal who saved him.

But Rabbit remained calm. “Oh, silly Tiger,” he said casually, “You know you cannot eat me. I am far too strong and powerful. In fact, I might even eat you, if you anger me.”

Tiger kept approaching. “Nonsense,” he said, “I am far bigger than you. My claws are long, my teeth are sharp. There's no point resisting.”

“Resisting?” said Rabbit, looking bored. “My teeth are pretty long and sharp, too. Why, I could swat you away with barely a thought.”

Tiger slowed, his eyes narrowed, and he looked at Rabbit full of disbelief. “I have never heard such silliness. Everyone knows Rabbit is small and harmless.”

“Oh, really? Everyone knows?” said Rabbit. “How about I show you just how strong I am? Follow me, Tiger, before you make me angry.” He began to walk away.

So Tiger, skeptical but confused, followed Rabbit. “You better not try to run off,” he warned.

“Who's running? I want you to see this.” Rabbit led Tiger into town.

And as all the villagers saw them approach, they saw mighty Tiger and they fled in terror. Women and children, men and soldiers, all ran before Tiger—but because Rabbit was walking in front, to Tiger it looked like they were fleeing from Rabbit. “I had no idea Rabbit was so strong,” said Tiger, and ran away before Rabbit could hurt him.

Bored, Young-hee bounced a tennis ball against the wall of her room.
Thump-bump
. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sky was dark with purple clouds that poured down the hot, summer rains of
jangmacheol
.

The heavy humidity left everything soggy and disgusting; clothes hanging by the window felt nearly as wet as when taken from the washer the night before.
Gross,
thought Young-hee, looking at the wallpaper by the window that was turning green with mold.

Thump-bump
.

It was the plainest, most unremarkable day ever.

With each
thump
of the tennis ball, Young-hee, surly and unrelenting, felt the glare of her mom struggling to work in the next room.

“Young-hee, could you use the Internet or something?” her mom called.

“Internet hasn't been working all day,” Young-hee said sullenly. But, feeling her mother's glare, she stopped throwing the ball.

The weeks since the big move had not gone well. Knowing that thirteen-year-old girls anywhere could be cliquish and cruel, she had dreaded her new school, but it was worse than she feared. On the first day, she discovered that the three girls she met on moving day were in her class—and, of course, its unofficial leaders. They were eager for someone new to torture.

Young-hee tried putting her energies into schoolwork, but it was all either ridiculously easy or impossibly hard. Either way, it was nearly all endless memorization—no activities, no experiments, no creativity at all. Young-hee used to like science class, the way Ms. Thompson would lead them through experiments and let students try things out for themselves. But here there were just multiple choices and lists. “So annoying,” she would say as she puzzled over some grammar problem or stupid history lesson. Sometimes she found herself looking out the window, daydreaming, only to be brought back, embarrassed, when a teacher slapped her desk with a ruler. Young-hee would sit fuming, her resentment piling higher than her homework.