Finding Junie Kim: Book I

Megan and her little clique huddle together, as far away from me as possible.

I’m friendlier with some of the boys, but right now everyone is just trying to avoid Tobias’s attention, and since he’s focused on me, they’re all earnestly avoiding my eyes.

The bus has a hierarchy to it. All the sixth graders have to sit in the front of the bus, while all the eighth graders lord it over everyone else in the back. Seventh graders sit in the middle or as close to the back as the eighth graders will allow.

It’s loud, but not the normal boisterousness of a middle-school morning.

I feel lethargic and tired and I’m not even in first period yet.

Hateful racist and anti-Semitic graffiti was found in our gym. Hate has no place in this school, and we denounce this terrible criminal act.

Rest assured that we are taking this incident very seriously and will investigate this matter thoroughly with the Montgomery County police, and appropriate action will be taken against the perpetrators.

I love the way curse words sound in different languages, but Spanish is my favorite. It is so emphatic.

I nod morosely while the others laugh.

The dining table is covered with dumplings, and all types of meat and vegetable jeon, which is basically fried yummy stuff, and then all sorts of noodles and side dishes and the absolute staple of every Korean household, kimchee.

But the highlight is the huge platter of galbi jjim, which is my favorite. It is braised short ribs that have been stewed in a delicious marinade until the meat falls off the bones.

My brother, who is usually oblivious to everything, coughs and wheezes, as if he is choking on something.

“How sad Jesus would be to hear such an un-Christian sentiment.”

I can see the smug, self-righteous expressions on their faces change to shock and bewilderment.

I’m biting my lip to keep from smiling at how nicely my grandfather is reprimanding them.

After all, Jesus believed in helping the poor, the weak, the sick, the downtrodden, the hungry, whoever they were.

“But you have to admit that your father is the master of putting people in their place in the nicest possible manner.”
“True, but it only works when the people have a conscience,” my mom says.

Grandpa’s way works because he is able to subtly shame people with their own words.

My dad is an auditor for a big accounting firm.

“Well, it’s good I can’t text. It’s a stupid idea anyway.” I can feel how petty I’m being, and I know it isn’t right to be like that, but I just can’t help it.

But it’s like my mind is on autoplay, and all it does is show me a highlight reel of all the bad.

At this moment, surrounded by so many people, I feel utterly alone.

Tobias sees me coming, and I can see the sneer on his pale brutish face.

I hobble to the kitchen and pull out the medicine box.

I let my hand fall, and I hear the cascade of pills as they drop and roll everywhere.

At the end he diagnosed me with “major depressive disorder with suicidal ideation.”

I once asked Ms. Tomoko, our waitress, why it waved, and she explained that Maneki-neko means “beckoning cat,” and waving the left paw means it’s inviting customers into the restaurant.

My burger and fries arrived with a chocolate milkshake, but the food just didn’t appeal to me.

“I will not share anything you say with your parents unless you expressly agree that I can or if you say something that makes me believe you are in danger.”

“Do you think it will work?” I look at her skeptically.

As the door closes behind her, Grandpa and I look at each other and then start eating with gusto.

My mom says she’s jealous that all the artistic talent skipped her generation and manifested in me.

I don’t like the taste of walnuts, but I find myself fascinated by the methodical cracking.

“What a sad life to think of other people in such demeaning ways.”

“No, bad people are always bad. And racists are evil.”
“So much fatalism.”

“This deep, hateful division caused by conflicting ideologies.”

But it was a pretty sad story, about one family’s struggle against the oppressive Japanese regime.

“That’s how extremism can seem. It looks ridiculous to us, but when people believe in something fervently, it can be dangerous. And during the Korean War, it was a clash of western democracy against Communism, with each side trying to kill off anyone who opposed them. It’s how over two million civilians were killed by their own government, solely for believing in the wrong ideology.”

“That’s how extremism can seem. It looks ridiculous to us, but when people believe in something fervently, it can be dangerous. And during the Korean War, it was a clash of western democracy against Communism, with each side trying to kill off anyone who opposed them. It’s how over two million civilians were killed by their own government, solely for believing in the wrong ideology.”

Perking up, I listen intently.