Through the school bus window, Unhei looked out at the strange buildings. It was her first day at her new school. She was nervous and excited.
She touched the little block of wood in her pocket and remembered saying goodbye to her grandmother in Korea. Her grandmother had handed her an ink pad and a red pouch. “Your name is inside,” she had said.
Unhei took the wooden block out of the pouch. Her name was carved into it. As she touched the edges of the Korean characters, she pictured her grandmother’s smile.
“Are you new here? What’s your name?” a girl asked, leaning over her seat.
“Unhei,” said Unhei.
“Ooh-ney?” the girl asked.
“No, it’s spelled U-N-H-E-I,” Unhei said. “It’s pronounced OON-heh.”
“Oh, it’s Yoo-hey,” a boy said. “Like
‘You, hey!’ What about ‘Hey, you!’” Just then, the bus pulled up to the
school. Unhei hurried to get off. “You-hey, bye-bye!” the kids yelled
as she ran into the school. Unhei felt herself blush.
Unhei stood in the doorway of her new and noisy classroom. “Aren’t you going in?” asked a curly-haired boy. “You’re the new girl, right?”
Unhei nodded, and the boy took her hand and pulled her through the door.
“Please welcome our newest student,” the teacher, Mr. Cocotos, said as Unhei walked in. “She and her family just arrived from Korea last week.”
“What’s your name?” someone shouted.
Unhei pictured the kids on the bus. “Um, I haven’t picked one yet,” she told the class. As she walked to her desk, she felt many curious eyes on her.