Dear Ace | HeeJake

「32」

"I'm going to read some of these, and you don't have to say it was yours. But I'd like to have a discussion about them." She said into the microphone. She approached the paper and started reading.

Most of the notes were jokes, a lot inappropriate. But a small handful were heavy. One that she read said "I hate happy families." Another said "I hate the person everyone thinks I am." The discussions were short, like nobody really knew how to speak on these statements.

There was one that actually got discussed for a while. "I fucking hate what this school turned me into."

She paused after she read it. Then she turned to the class. "This one confuses me. Why would this person blame the school?"

Someone raised their hand. Everyone turned. Heeseung.

"Maybe it was the students. But also the teachers. The administrators." Everyone gave each other looks, Jake just kept staring at him.

"Why do you say that, Mr. Lee?" She asked.

Heeseung dropped his gaze for a moment. Like he was rethinking his decision to speak. But he lifted his head again. "Because the school doesn't care about problems. It covers them up. Shoves them under the rug. The administration cares more about image than integrity. It would rather pretend its problems don't exist rather than acknowledge them."

She hums. "Could you give me an example?"

He looks away again. Jake catches his gaze. Their eyes lock- and just as quickly, Heeseung looks away.

"The anonymous website. The school has yet to address what happened." That earned some stares in Jake's direction. Jake wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But a part of him felt his chest ache. He didn't think Heeseung would ever talk about it. The video. He may not be addressing it directly, but everyone knows what happened. They know what he's talking about. They know who he's talking about. "And I know they knew exactly what happened. They'd just rather stick their fingers in their ears and pretend they don't know."

Then someone else spoke up. "I don't think that's the admins fault though." Everyone whipped around to see who just spoke. Park Aein. Jake didn't know her personally, just that they're in the same grade. She was elected class president two years in a row, too. "The website was made by the students. They couldn't control what was posted. Or what the kids did with it."

"That doesn't make it right." Heeseung argued. "They're supposed to protect us. Not shove us into a corner when they don't feel like taking responsibility."

"I understand that, but we should also be holding the students accountable, too. We're all old enough to understand the difference between right and wrong. We're not in elementary school." Aein shrugged.

"Who are we supposed to hold accountable if we don't even know who did it?" Heeseung asked, turning to fully face her.

"That doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who did it, because no one spoke out against it. We're all accomplices in this. The only victim here is Jake." Jake flinched. He didn't expect to hear his name. It felt like a curse word. Like something dirty. "We should all be held accountable because we were all bystanders."

The room fell silent for a moment. Like the words fell heavy and nobody knew how to hold them.

"It doesn't matter who did it, or who created the website. What matters is what happened. Bottom line; we're all perpetrators. Someone posted a video. People commented. People shared it. No one did a damn thing about it. This isn't about a blame game, this is about what happens when no one is held accountable. I think that's what this person meant. It's not just about what the school does, it's also about what it doesn't do. What it hides. What kids are willing to do for a sick joke. Yes, we should hold the administration accountable. But we also need to hold ourselves accountable."