The second day we met up I was suffering from a sunburn. The skin on my face peeling and my arms covered in aloe vera were very good indications, and the boy noticed the second I tapped his shoulder and he turned around to face me. The day before, my mother had gotten angry with me before the boy had put his skates on, so I had to go, but we agreed to meet up at the same time and place.

"I know we agreed to meet today too," he frowned, "but that doesn't mean you can do this with a sunburn."

"Yes, I can," I said stubbornly. "Also, I thought you wouldn't help me if didn't come."

"I would have," he said with an even deeper frown. "I would. But you're not okay. You have a bad sunburn."

"Not an issue," I insisted, frowning at him. "I'm not going to take your help if you don't help me today."

He sighed. "Okay, strange girl. Let's go, then."

I didn't know why, but it seemed as if he thought he could take my hand any time he wanted to, and we had only known each other for about fifteen minutes in total. I didn't mind all that much. It was nice, having someone hold my hand so gently and guide me to where I needed to be (literally speaking).

For the next half an hour, he held my hands as we skated all over the park. He was there to catch me when I fell, and hold me steady as I struggled to regain my balance. He was the one who showed me the correct stance and held my hand as we finally sped down the higher, more dangerous ramps. I screamed and yelled and begged for him to stay close because if he didn't, I was sure that I would fall and break a bone.

"It's not that scary!" he said, laughing for the first time since I met him. I found that I rather liked it when he laughed. It made his big eyes sparkle and his delicate mouth look much friendlier. I had a feeling that he was really a lot nicer than he let on. "Come on, strange girl, we need to do something for practice!"

Eventually, I gave in, and let him guide me up to the highest ramp. As I looked down its length, I felt like the world was tilting beneath my feet. Fear made my hands damp, sweaty, and gross, really, but he didn't care. He held my hand and looked at me with a smile, which was coming much more easily now. "You ready?"

"No, but I—HELP!" I screamed. He hadn't let me finish and kicked off, dragging me along with him. Instinctively, even as I was screaming, I adjusted my stance and grabbed his hand for dear life, squeezing my eyes shut as the short burst of adrenaline made my heart do jumping jacks inside my chest.

We rolled to a stop a few feet away from the ramp. He looked at me with a big, smug grin. "See? Not so bad."

"I hate you," I panted, letting go of his hand and hugging myself. My heart raced, more with the sudden burst of adrenaline than lingering fear. "Don't do that without a proper warning next time."

"You're funny, strange girl," he commented, reaching up to undo his helmet.

"Yoora," I corrected him. "It's Song Yoora."

"That's a pretty name," he said. I smiled at him more genuinely, hearing in his voice the note of sincerity. "I'm Jungwon. Yang Jungwon."

I didn't tell him so, but I liked his name, too. It was a pretty name, too, to me.

"I think that's enough excitement for today," my mother called over from her normal spot, the shade on the bench under the tree. She frowned in our direction, having heard my terrified scream. I wished I hadn't done that; now she probably thought Jungwon was teasing me and making me uncomfortable.

For a mother who was more often than not at work, she sure knew how to worry.

As soon as I had that thought, I felt incredibly guilty. It wasn't my parents' fault that we weren't well-off, meaning they had to work a lot. All they wanted was to provide as best of a life as they could provide for me. Of course she was worried. She loved me more than I knew I could understand. I was young at the time, but even so, I understood that very well.

"Okay," I called back, and then I looked at Jungwon. "Want to go sit down somewhere? It is really hot."

"Sure," he agreed. He held onto my hand as we skated across the park to the platform where most of the parents were. I was beginning to grow used to his hand in mine; for a strange boy who called me hopeless twice already, he was very gentle when he wanted to be. I was starting to like him very much.

I sat down on the circular platform, which was made of some kind of thick wood. We were sitting on the opposite side from the parents, and he sat down beside me. I didn't say anything, but I felt his eyes on me as I leaned down to undo my skates. Then I stood up and walked barefoot across the platform to grab my sandals—I'd kept them on the ground right beside Jungwon's father (his idea, because that was where I waited for him while he got his skates on).

He smiled at me as I bent down to pick them up. I didn't think he knew my name, but he did know that I was his son's new friend. I returned his open, friendly smile with an only slightly hesitant one and ran back across to Jungwon.

"Are you afraid of my dad?" he asked me as I sat down and slipped them on. "He's not scary at all. My sister is, though."

"I'm not afraid of your dad, I just find it hard to be myself with new people," I objected. "He seems nice."

"I'm a new person," he observed. "You were sarcastic with me."

"You're the first person who's ever called me hopeless as your first words," I said. "I'm not going to be afraid of you for that. It was kind of annoying, but you did have a point. You still do, actually."

"Ah, so I'm the good kind of annoying?"

"I guess." I looked down at me feet. The hem of my light dress—a picture of Elsa from Frozen in that classic pose, a snowflake hovering above her open palm—had ridden up, and I frowned at my scabbed knees. Results from the day before. "Can I ask you a little something?"

"Okay," he turned to me. He'd been watching a crow standing a few feet away, looking hopefully at the scraps of food in people's hands as they passed by, enjoying the summer day while they could. "What is it?"

"Why did you help me yesterday? And today?" I asked.

He seemed to seriously consider it. "Well," he said finally, "I guess I didn't like that you looked so sad and embarrassed when you fell. But also, you reminded me of when I fell off my skates, and my sister helped me with a lot of whining. So...I didn't want to make you feel the same way I did, I think."

"So you started off by calling me hopeless?"

"I didn't want to seem weird," he protested, his ears tinting red.

"It's okay, I don't mind," I laughed. "Let's ask some general questions, then. How old are you?"

The questions were tossed back and forth between us, and we discovered that we were both ten (his birthday was in February; mine was in July), we attended the same school but different classes, and while he had an older sister, I was an only child. I also discovered that he, a tiny ten-year-old no taller than I, was rather skilled in taekwondo.

"I'm going to get my black belt one day!" he said proudly. It was amazing how much he'd lightened up since we met the day before, though he was still kind of shy.

That was the word I decided on for him—shy. He talked a little like he wanted to let go of all the things he held back, but also like he didn't want to bare all of him just yet. An understandable personality, really. And despite that, he had a sharp tongue; he seemed to be very blunt and brutally honest when he wanted to.

Such as, "you're not going to get anywhere with that attitude," when I admitted that I'd gotten into more fights than could be classified as 'not that concerning,' instead crossing into the realm of 'that child needs help.'

"There's no need to put it like that," I sulked.

"What? Honesty is the best policy, no?"

I scowled at him, though that didn't last long in the face of his grin. I laughed with him, unable to keep a straight face when he looked so pleased with himself. "Jungwon, you're funny," I said. "You're not as bluntly uncaring as you pretend to be."

"What gave it away? The stupid grinning?"

"Mostly," I agreed.

He rolled his eyes at me, but continued talking with me nevertheless. I learned that he lived in the neighborhood—just a block away from my apartment building—too, which came as a pleasant surprise to me, before my mother called to me, telling me that it was time to go home.

I pouted. He patted my hand. "Go on," he said. "We'll come back tomorrow, too."

"Pinky promise?" I asked, holding out a hand. For my age, it was kind of childish, but I found that I didn't care very much. Being ten made me conscious of the fact that the growing-up phase was progressing into something much more unpredictable.

He blinked, staring at my hand for a moment. Then he held out his own hand and, with no hesitation, twined his pinky finger around mine. "Pinky promise."

When we released each other's hands, I picked up my skates and sprinted off across the grass in the area surrounding the platform, waving at him. "See you tomorrow!" I yelled. He waved back to me, with that same, wide grin on his face. It made him look like kind of like a smiling cat, I thought. His wide eyes, small, almost delicate features, and most of all, his pale pink lips, made him look like one.

Were there guardian cats? I wondered. Because Yang Jungwon felt like one.