I'll Be Right There by Kyung-Sook Shin Read Free Book Online

their stringed gayageums , eyebrows penciled in, hair pulled into chignons, and faces drawn into prim expressions. I thought about how I used to peek through the front gate—the campus itself always exuding the excitement of a performance about to begin—and debate whether or not to enter. But instead of making me hesitate, those memories emboldened me, and I strode lightly into the school. I barely recognized anyone. The few boys in my department whom I would have recognized must have been off completing their military service, and even the girls I had gone to class with had permed their hair since then, or started wearing makeup and piling onthe accessories, or had work done on their eyes. On my way to the lecture hall, I looked for things that had not changed: the library, the campus bookstore, the school post office, the wooden benches in front of the lotus pond where I used to sit. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of them. The smell of tear gas in the air was also unchanged.
    My first class was Professor Yoon’s.
    As luck would have it, it was in the same room as before. I went in and sat in the back, where everyone was clustered. Though I had promised myself I would not sit alone, it felt uncomfortable to be staring at the back of a boy’s head just inches away from me, so I moved to a seat near the window. In the very last row, a boy and girl were sitting side by side as if they were a couple. Was he a reentry student? He looked older than the rest of us. I didn’t know him, but he looked strangely familiar. He was so tall that he seemed to be scrunched into the desk, and his eyes never seemed to leave the face of the girl next to him as they talked. Suddenly he turned to look at me. I pretended to rub my face and turned back around. But something made me turn to look at them again. Something about the girl kept tugging at me. I leaned over to try to get a peek at her face, but even with my cheek practically grazing the desk, I still could not get a good look. Her long black hair spilled forward and hid her face from view. I had no idea what he was saying to her, but she lowered her face each time he spoke.
    “Yi Myungsuh.”
    “Here.”
    It was only when Professor Yoon started calling attendance that I found out his name was Myungsuh.
    The past merged with the present.
    Professor Yoon was as thin as ever, as unchanged as the stone steps in front of the library. Even his eyes, deep and keen, which had grimaced in pain when he stood in the window and looked down at the rioting students, were the same as before. Whenever I was alone, my memories from a year ago were hazy and indistinct; now that I was back in the same classroom, the old me was as sharp and clear as if she were sitting right in front of me. Professor Yoon called each name in turn. When he got to Myungsuh’s name, he looked up from the attendance sheet.
    “Shouldn’t you have graduated by now?” he asked, and smiled at Myungsuh from over his glasses.
    Myungsuh scratched his head and smiled. It was a bashful smile, but it spread from ear to ear. You couldn’t help but smile, too, when you saw it. Nevertheless, the girl beside him kept her head down. I wanted to know her name. I listened carefully as Professor Yoon read the rest of the attendance sheet. Had I missed it? He finished calling roll, but he had not called her name. When he put the sheet away, I looked back at the two of them again.
    Yi Myungsuh . I wrote his name down. When was the last time I’d written someone’s name in my notebook? I kept casually glancing back at them during class. Each time, I noticed something different—his wavy hair, his strong profile, the way he twirled his pencil—but I didn’t learn anything abouther. She sat in the same position the whole time and did not lift her head. All I could see was a glimpse of her nose from behind the long veil of hair. I felt intensely curious about her name, her eyes. There was something about her that made me want