Winter Park

1. We Will Not Be Friends

The term “family friend” implied said friend was a friend to the entire family; therefore, the term was decidedly a bullshit one. At least as it applied to Bobby Bae and Winter Park, nemeses since the ninth grade. Or first grade if you ask Winter.

They were the only two Asian kids in their school, so they were frequently on the receiving end of comments like “I didn’t know you were allowed to have more than one kid in China”--which was problematic because one: They were not related, and two: They were Korean. It was either that or the ever-persistent assumption they were dating.

Winter hated spending time with someone as uptight as Bobby Bae. Yet, when she asked her parents if she could visit MIT over summer break, he was their first choice to accompany her.

“No,” Winter said plainly. “Just because you and Bobby’s family are best friends doesn’t make us friends.”

Their parents had met when Bobby’s family moved from New Jersey to North Carolina. It was during a back-to-school night when Winter’s parents, who had formerly been the only Asian parents in the PTO, spotted the Baes from across the room and adopted them as their so-called family friends. Since then, it’d been all sunshine and Melona bars for their parents. However, for Winter and Bobby, if their relationship had a mascot, it’d be an eye roll.

Winter’s father wrinkled his nose. “You both are too competitive. It’s always something with you--class rank, attendance, even marching band.”

“Because he’s such a try-hard for no reason,” Winter huffed. “And what’s wrong with a little competition?”

“You’re usually on the same team,” her mother replied. “We don’t need to have this conversation again. We’re well aware of your rules.”

Of course her parents knew the rules, but Winter feared steam would come out of her ears if she tried to hold in the reminder and refrain from further slandering Bobby. Multitasking wasn’t one of her strong suits. She took in a sharp breath and was not surprised when her parents’ voices echoed her own. “We will play nice in front of our parents. We will not be seen talking to each other at school. We will not meet outside of school,” the three chanted in unison.

“It’s a legally binding contract!” Winter said. Bobby had even tried to get it notarized at one point, but the notary refused on account of it having been written in crayon.

“Then your mother and I can sue because you gave up on rule number one years ago,” Appa said. “And how many amendments have you added since then? Forty?”

Winter’s shoulders tensed as she said in a defeated tone, “I would rather walk to Massachusetts than be stuck in a car for eighteen hours with Bobby Bae.”

Bobby was, for lack of a better word, boring. He spent all his free time padding his college résumé with any and all extra-curriculars, and it was unclear if he had any interests of his own other than making sure people thought he was a saint. Plus he was dating Jacqueline Charlotte “Three Names” Turner, who, like Bobby Bae, always seemed to be thinking of her next quip rather than actually listening to what anyone was saying.

“You’re being dramatic, Soon-hee,” Winter’s mother said as she idly flipped channels, not bothering to look up. “You can’t walk that far.”

“Not true, Umma. Frodo did it, and he wasn’t even wearing shoes,” Winter retorted.

Umma looked up for the sole purpose of rolling her eyes. Sarcasm was lost on Winter’s mother, who was the most literal woman in the world. Winter was named Winter because she was born in, well, winter. Umma didn’t mince words, and she didn’t entertain Winter’s theatrics. She was a hard-looking woman with a pin-straight graying bob that was customarily clipped to the side and a revolving door of floral blouses and sensible black shoes.

“Bobby is a nice boy,” Appa chimed in. “I don’t see why you don’t get along. You have so much in common.”

Winter bristled at the word boy. If she were a boy, her parents probably wouldn’t be hassling her about being too competitive or begging her to be more polite so a boy would like her. Bobby’s parents never gave him grief about anything.

“What do we have in common other than being Korean?” Winter asked.

With a sigh, Umma replied, “You both get good grades, play instruments, are involved in student council, have good heads on your shoulders; you’re kind, family-oriented, want to go to school in Boston, maybe a little stubborn--”

“Okay, I get it,” Winter interrupted.

“Why do you need to visit the campus anyway?” Umma asked. “You are going to school to learn, not look at buildings.”

“I’m not going to move into an entire school sight unseen. I’m not a Property Brother.”

Appa breathed in slowly. “Bobby is visiting several schools on the way to Harvard. Go with him. He’s a very good driver. He took lessons with your appa. We’ve already discussed it with his parents, and they would feel better if you went with him.”

“No, Appa,” Winter whined.

“You can go with Bobby, or you don’t go at all,” Umma said, and she changed the volume on her Korean drama from background noise to uncomfortably loud. “And I don’t care if you wear shoes or not.”

“You don’t care if I wear shoes? That’s a bald-faced lie. We’re Asian,” Winter said loudly, trying to be heard over the TV. “I’m in the National Honor Society, my robotics team has made nationals every year since I joined, my school had to create an AP Latin course just for me, and I’m one of two students taking classes at community college this year. But who cares, right? As long as Bobby Bae is my boyfriend.”

“You’ve proven your point, Winter,” Umma said.

“Have I? Will you show some interest in my education and take me to visit MIT?”

“You know it’s our busy season,” Appa said. “Your mother and I are essential workers, Soon-hee. We can’t pick up and leave our practice so we can fly all over the country with you.”

Appa was very proud of their dermatology office, which they affectionately referred to as “our practice.” This was something that both amused and embarrassed Winter. Sometimes their work involved finding cancerous lumps, but most of the time they were popping pimples and extracting ingrown hairs.

It seemed that no one wanted to visit Boston with her. Not her best friend, Emmy, and not even her own parents. Emmy had the valid excuse of preparing to move to Germany early next month, but Winter’s parents were choosing lancing abscesses over their only child.

“Ugh!” Winter groaned as she stomped upstairs to her bedroom.

She changed into a T-shirt and jeans, making sure to put on her dirtiest pair of tennis shoes. Then she looked in the mirror. Winter was satisfied with the way she looked, though she knew from everything she understood about Korea that she would have been considered plain if she lived there. She thought herself to be of average height, rounder in some places, her eyes hooded and untrusting. And even if her straight black hair could do nothing but fall limp over her shoulders, she still probably wouldn’t have done anything with it. There was no section on her transcripts for looks. There were other ways of expression that she enjoyed more than fashion.

Winter grabbed her phone and stomped back downstairs.

“I’m going to visit Halmeoni,” she called to her parents, making a show of tap--dancing across their hardwood floors in her beat-up Chuck Taylors.

Her parents raised their eyebrows at her but didn’t say anything.

Halmeoni lived in an elderly community, which was about a twenty-minute walk away. Winter found herself marching over to Halmeoni’s apartment often, mostly when Bobby Bae had won something at school Winter believed she deserved instead and when she needed a Chanel Eau de Parfum--scented shoulder to cry on.

“Tell your grandmother hello for us,” Appa said.

“She’s your mom. Call her,” Winter retorted, and walked out the door. She then stuck her head back inside and said, “I love you both. I’ll definitely tell her you said hello.”

Her parents smiled, and she headed out into the hot North Carolinian day, where there were dads in golf shorts mowing their lawns, happily sipping on cans of Cheerwine.


Bobby Bae

2. We Will Not Meet Outside of School

The Baes sat down for dinner on the terrace at precisely six p.m. Though their patio wasn’t bigger or nicer than the Reynolds’, their neighbors, the Baes liked to eat out there as much as they could. Dinner alfresco was a win in The Book of Bae.

“Bobby,” his father, Robert Sr., said, nudging his son hard in the shoulder.

Bobby refrained from soothing his shoulder and looked up from his plate. “Yeah, Dad?”

“I heard a joke today. Want to hear it?”

Bobby sighed. “Sure, Dad.”

“What does a robot do at the end of a one-night stand?”

“What?”

“He nuts and bolts.” Robert Sr. laughed jovially, making his beer belly, which hung over the top of his khaki golf shorts, jiggle.

Bobby’s mother, Diana, laughed at her husband despite herself, but Bobby remained stone-faced.

“My handsome boy. You never smile,” Diana said. “Lighten up, son.”

Bobby smiled, but he did not lighten up.

He took a piece of sangchu from the bowl in the middle of the table and filled it with a perfectly round dollop of rice. He then aligned the meat next to the rice, spread some spicy soybean paste over the meat, and rolled the entire thing into a perfect little bite without breaking the spine of the lettuce. He chewed quietly as he watched his parents joking and laughing, often with their mouths open and food inside.

Bobby always prided himself on being the perfect son. He did exactly what he was supposed to without being asked, so his parents rarely had to parent him. Nevertheless, Bobby thrived on structure, so he often parented himself. And, if nothing else, Bobby Bae was the best at everything he did, so he parented himself at an excruciatingly high standard. He got perfect grades, was in all sorts of extracurricular activities, including volunteering with animals and the elderly, and made his own pocket money by participating in online gaming tournaments. He was tall and slim, with a head of thick hair that he often tossed out of his face while bent over his game controllers.

“Bobby, we have to talk to you about something,” Diana said, suddenly getting serious.

Bobby wiped the condensation off the bottom of his glass and put it down on the cedar patio table. “What is it?”

He didn’t like conversations that started like this. They always ended with some terrible news, like their family dog, Kimchi, having to be put down, or Winter Park beating his SAT score by ten points. He looked at his mother anxiously. She had long hair that she lightened into a brassy burgundy color, and she always wore the mommiest of mom shoes.

“Have you spoken to Winter lately?” Diana asked.

“No, of course not,” Bobby answered harshly. “Why?”

“Well,” Diana said, taking a deep breath. “You know how we’re supposed to drive up with you to Massachu--”

“No,” Bobby said, more forcefully than he meant to. “If you’re about to ask me if it’s okay if Winter comes with us, the answer is no.”

His parents exchanged glances.

“Actually, we were going to say that we think it’s a good idea if only you and Winter go to visit Harvard. She’s interested in the space program at MIT.”

Bobby’s mouth fell open.

Winter was his rival at school, and she had this annoying quality about her that he couldn’t quite pin down. She always wore big cable-knit granny sweaters that basically went down to her ankles, and she usually had a cup of hot tea in hand. At lunch she always had her nose in some cozy mystery novel instead of studying everything on--and off--the test like Bobby did. But it wasn’t like she was reading because she didn’t have anyone to eat with; she was comfortable and content all the time. Not that comfort was inherently annoying. But her nonchalance and effortless intellectuality infuriated him to no end. She loved space, and it was clear that was where her head usually was. He wanted her to come back down to Earth and be miserable and stressed like him and everyone else.

“Why don’t you guys want to come with me anymore?” Bobby asked his parents. “We were going to visit Dad’s old stomping grounds in Boston and the Smithsonians in DC. There might even be few fun tourist T-shirts in it for Dad.”

“You know I love souvenir shirts, but you’ll be at school for four years.”

“So?”

“So, there will be plenty of opportunities to shop for a T-shirt. And it’s not that we don’t want to go with you. This could be a chance for a good old-fashioned American road trip. I drove up the coast with my little brother when we were about your age.” Bobby’s ears perked up. His dad never mentioned his brother, Eugene. Robert Sr. seemed to notice his slip and quickly tried to cover it up by saying, “What I meant to say is that you could have a good old-fashioned American road trip like in the movies.”

Bobby’s upper lip tightened. “Which movies, specifically?”

“How about Green Book? That was a good one.”

“I think you missed the point of that movie, Dad.”

“Maybe, but wouldn’t you have more fun with somebody your own age?”

“She’s not my age,” Bobby huffed.

“Exactly. She’s younger than you, and for whatever reason, she hasn’t gotten her license yet, so you should take care of her,” Diana said. “It’d be a very nice thing for you to do.”

Bobby knew that it would be nice. He was always nice, and he would do anything his parents asked him to, but not this. He didn’t want to spend a second with Winter, much less days.

“I know what you’re doing,” Bobby said, his arms folded and his nose turned up.

Robert Sr. narrowed his eyes. “What are we doing, son?”

“You just don’t want me to go with Jacqueline. I know you both don’t like her.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart,” Diana said. Her voice was like a cup of sugar. “We just noticed we haven’t been seeing her around as much lately. We thought you may have broken up.”

Bobby picked up his glass and plate and stood up. “May I be excused?”

“Fine, but think about it. Okay?” Diana asked.

Bobby activated all the muscles in his face that were used to form a smile, but he was not smiling inside. Maybe he was his parents’ son after all. The two of them always seemed to have a certain melancholy, like they were lost in thought, thinking about something or, more likely, someone. For Mr. Bae, Bobby assumed that person was Uncle Eugene, since he was the only living relative he knew of. Just yesterday, Bobby had come home to his father drowning the plants with the garden hose. When Bobby called to him, he pretended like he’d meant to do it even though he’d overwatered one of his mother’s raised garden beds so much it overflowed and her Thai basil plant floated away. And Diana was someone who sat for hours holding knitting needles but not actually knitting. The sun would set and there she would be in the dark, unsmiling, with the same unfinished scarf in her lap night after night. Bobby turned the lights on for her every afternoon and knitted a row for her every night after she went to bed. Her entire family still lived in Korea, and her contact with them had dwindled in the years since she had decided not to return after college. The Parks were their replacement family, much to Bobby’s chagrin.

Bobby dumped his dishes in the sink and mentally grounded himself for not washing them immediately. He ran upstairs, slammed his door shut, grabbed his phone, and dialed Winter Park.

It rang twice.

“Why are you calling me?” Winter said as soon as she picked up.

Bobby clenched his fist. “You just had to try to be better than me at something again, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? I’m talking about you wanting to go to MIT. Since when is that a thing? You know Harvard is my top choice.”

Winter let out a noise to indicate that she was disgusted. “Not everything is about you, Bae. I want to major in aerospace engineering, and MIT has one of the best programs in the country.”

“You always have to take everything away from me,” Bobby said, tight-lipped, as he sank into his bed. “First it was that dinner with the governor. Now it’s Massachusetts. My father went to Harvard, and the plan was always to follow in his footsteps.”

“You’re not the king of Massachusetts,” Winter spat. “And I didn’t steal that dinner from you. It was a dinner for women.”

“You’re the one who suggested it only be for women just so I couldn’t go. What if I want to become a politician one day? Now I may never know.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Bobby sat up straight. “Wait. Why do you even want to come with me? You realize I’m not only going to Massachusetts, right? I also plan to visit a few other schools. And if I’m not going with my parents, I should at least be going with my girlfriend.”

“Trust me. I don’t want to go either, but my parents said I can’t go unless I go with you.”

Bobby clutched his phone harder. “Look, where are you? We should talk about this in person.”

“I’m visiting my grandma now, but--”

“I volunteer at her community center sometimes. I’m on my way. Don’t leave.”

“Wait, no--”

Bobby hung up the phone. His chest puffed as he grabbed his keys and sprinted out of the house to his car.