LOVE:ZERO

Whitmore Hall was large enough to fit two and a half full-size tennis courts.

Huge crystal chandeliers dangled from the soaring two-story ceilings, scattering sparkling light in every corner of the hall.

Massive Colonial-style marble columns supported the four corners, and the ceiling and walls were elegantly decorated with artistic boiserie (ornate carved panels).

It wasn’t hard to imagine a ball in this classic, grand space, filled with aristocrats in fancy dresses and tailcoats.

But the ladies and gentlemen gathered here were only twelve or thirteen years old.

The theater-style mezzanine balcony along one wall was reserved for VIPs and overlooked the dance floor.

Right now, the narrow space was packed with Upper East Side private school parents who had come to observe the first cotillion class.

Instead of fancy dresses, they’re wearing loro piana and clutching cell phones instead of fans.

They looked not unlike the society ladies of 200 years ago, who gathered in threes and fours, their mouths half-covered by their fans, to watch their children’s debuts.

A hundred or so children filled the chairs arranged in a “D” along the edge of the hall.

Girls in dresses and white satin gloves and boys in formal suits sat in random pairs.

Jiyu scanned from the left end to the right.

She didn’t see any empty seats. She stiffened and glanced back, but Ae-Jeong was already up on the balcony.

His skin tingles and her stares that fell on the tardy student standing at the entrance.

The heat that started in his ears spread to his cheeks.

‘I should run.’

Just then, an elderly gentleman leaning against the grand piano on the dais, talking to the pianist, noticed her and pointed to the right.

“Go over there and sit down.”

He then instructed the assistant facilitator standing under the podium to bring another chair.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jiyu glanced over to where the old gentleman pointed.

There, seated side-by-side in the right-hand corner of the D-shaped circle, were Rex and Hunter.

The other kids were paired up, but only the two of them were boys.

Jiyu walked across the front of the podium with her head bowed low as the older gentleman spoke into the microphone and gave another set of instructions.

“Mr. Hamilton. Please rise and give way to the lady.”

She stopped and looked up, dazed.

Hunter slowly rose to his feet, annoyance and boredom evident on his face.

His chair slide backward, scraping against the polished marble floor with a grisly sound.

The two men’s eyes met.

Blue eyes swept over Jiyu, who had come out all dressed up.

Hunter, who had been staring at her with such intensity, took a step back and stood beside her chair.

‘What would you want to say Hunter….?’

Jiyu bit her lip, avoiding his gaze.

The internalized sense of hierarchy that had been drilled into her since childhood made her restless.

She couldn’t remember ever seeing Hunter give up what was his to someone else. Nor had anyone dared to force him to.

To give up his seat and stand and wait for some insignificant “Jiyu Parker” was unthinkable.

‘What if I try to push him when we’re alone,’ I thought.

I sighed.

She wanted to tell him she’d stand in his place until an extra chair was brought over, but the words caught in her throat and wouldn’t come out with so many eyes watching.

Hunter was dressed in a dark navy blazer, light blue slacks, and a neatly fastened tie, and it felt strange to see him so formally attired.

Normally, he wore a button-down shirt with a short-sleeved T-shirt with the school logo underneath, all unbuttoned so that he could remove it at any time.

His tie was knotted to the point where he could easily slip it over his head.

His school blazer was tangled in his tennis bag with his spare sweatpants, and I never saw him wear it except for formal school events and yearbook photos.

Before long, he and his peers began to emulate the “hunter look”.

The fad spread quickly.

The sixth graders at Alton School were unusually unkempt in their uniforms compared to the other grades, and Dan Hunter’s influence was strong.

Hunter furrowed his brow as Jiyu glared at him.

Then he gestured to the empty chair next to her.

She reluctantly moved her stiff legs.

That’s when the older gentleman spoke into the microphone.

“Mr. Hamilton, please go around the back of the chair, hold the backrest, and slide the chair in slightly as the lady sits down.”

All eyes turned to them at once.

Jiyu froze in her tracks as she tried to sit in the chair.

Her face turned white and then bright red.

She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, but the children’s eyes were still on them, and an internal scream filled her head that she couldn’t get out.

That’s when Hunter slammed the chair in from behind, hard.

The corner hit the back of her knee.

Jiyu staggered, her arms flailing comically as she tried to regain her balance.

Several children giggled at the sight.

Before she had time to recover, Rex shoved her with his shoulder.

“Hi, Liv.”

Jiyu stumbled to the other side, then righted herself, glancing at Rex out of the corner of her eye.

He swept his wavy brown hair down to his jawline and smirked, his dark green and pale brown eau-de-vie shining like sea glass on the white sand of a midsummer beach, the waves crashing against it.

Jiyu stared at him for a moment, mesmerized.

Rex was even prettier than the girls at Astor School who were rumored to be pretty.

When he was younger, she could have sworn he was a girl.

It was a shame that lately he’d grown so much taller, his shoulders broader, his facial lines thicker, and he didn’t feel like a kid anymore.

“Hi, Rex.”

At Lower School, Jiyu got to know Rex through their Saturday Hangul class together.

He was both similar and different from Hunter.

If anyone was easier to get along with, it was Rex, not Hunter.

Rex was similar to Hunter in that he was uninterested in other people and self-centered, so it took a while to get to know him.

But Rex, who was rumored to be the most notorious troublemaker on the Upper East Side, was actually pretty sweet by nature.

With his hair in a messy bun and a mischievous grin with a twinkle in his eye, Rex couldn’t have looked more innocent, so I knew the rumors were exaggerated and that he was up to no end of mischief when he relaxed.

He never got in trouble for bullying kids weaker than me, anyway.

When events were held at Hunter’s house on the weekends, the Hangul class was moved to Rex’s house.

The Lafayette residence was more like a small European museum than a home. By comparison, the classic Hamilton residence seemed modern.

Rex’s father, Andre de Lafayette, was the most terrifying man she’d ever met.

He never raised his voice to her, but she’d seen him call Rex into his study a few times when he’d gotten into trouble, his face stern and cold, and she’d gasped when she caught a glimpse of him.

The thought of defying my father like that sent chills down my spine.

I wondered if Rex was a little crazy, but sometimes I envied his courage.

I affectionately called Rex “Vangol” because he would get in trouble on fictitious days.

I didn’t know exactly what a half-bone was, but I knew it meant a weak person who stood up to a strong person.

One day, Rex’s mom came over for tea with Lauren. For some reason, Rex called her “Ms. Miran” out of habit.

Jiyu also got tired of Hunter and Rex fighting over her, so she ran out of the playroom and hid in the corner of the living room to read a book.

Lauren and Miran, who was so quiet that they forgot she was there, chatted over a pretty teacup.