Hiding Pandora by Mercy Amare

Friday, September 6
    New Haven Academy—North Andover, MA

    “Name,” the guard says.
    “Lee Suel Ri...” I answer, letting my voice trail off.
    Crap.
    My name is not Lee Suel Ri anymore.
    “Um, sorry,” I say. “I’m Pandora Hart.”
    The guard looks at me. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”
    I pull out my driver’s license and hand it to him. My ID is fake, but he won’t know the difference. Nobody but my dad, a handful of people in the CIA, and I know. Nobody would be able to tell that it’s not real.
    My real name, the name I was born with, is Layla Scott. I was born on February 27 in a hospital in Los Angeles, California. But, for the last twelve years of my life, I have been in hiding, pretending to be Lee Suel Ri, living in Seoul, South Korea.
    Now, I am Pandora Hart. I am in the United States, and I am an American citizen once again. I guess I always have been, but I don’t really feel American.
    For the last four months, I have been at a special CIA location. I’m still not sure where it was, but I think it was somewhere in Arizona. I wasn’t privileged enough to know the location. There, I was learning how to speak with an American accent, and basically, learning how to be an American. After spending twelve years in South Korea, it was hard. I don’t think I’m ready to be Pandora, but the CIA seems to think I am. I’m pretty sure I just proved I’m not.
    The guard hands me back my ID and opens the gate.
    “Welcome, Miss Hart,” he says.
    I drive through the gate and breathe a sigh of relief. That was a close one.
    As I drive closer to the school, I take in my surroundings. I know all there is to know about New Haven Academy, but this is my first time seeing it in person. The rolling hills are beautiful, but they make me feel claustrophobic. I miss Seoul.
    I am half-Korean, half-American. My mother was born in South Korea and she met my father while attending college in California. She and my dad dated six months, and when it was time for her to go home, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, so he did what any nineteen year old in love would do—he asked her to marry him. The rest is history.
    Sort of.
    My mom was killed when I was four. That is when I moved to Seoul, where she was from. I took on a fake identity, but I truly became Lee Suel Ri. And I thought I would be Lee Suel Ri forever.
    Leaving South Korea was absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. As soon as this mess is over, I’m moving back there.
    If this ends.
    Twelve years. That is how long I’ve been hiding. It’s possible that I could spend the rest of my life hiding.
    I pass a sign that says “ Welcome to New Haven Academy—home of the fighting Tigers ”.
    I laugh.
    Fighting Tigers?
    Why do American high schools have mascots? Mascots are for corporations, not high school sports teams. Not that I see the point in having a high school sports team, anyway. Students should focus on their studies, not on sports.
    I pull into the third dorm building on the right, where I was instructed to go. It’s smaller than I thought it would be, but other than that, it looks just like the pictures.
    “ Okay, Lee Suel Ri, you’ve got this ,” I say, speaking to myself in Korea. I switch to English. “Crap. Pandora Hart. You’re Pandora Hart, you’re Korean-American, you’ve never been outside of the US and you definitely do not know how to speak Korean.”
    Suddenly, the driver’s side door opens and I reach for the small pistol in my purse. I don’t really like guns, but I was trained on how to use them safely. Right in this second, I’m glad I have one, though I don’t think it’ll do much good if a group of terrorists have come to kidnap me.
    “Were you just talking to yourself?” a voice asks.
    An American voice.
    I pull my hand off the gun and place it over my franticly beating heart.
    “Jesus, you scared me,” I say, remembering to use my American accent.
    “Sorry,” the boy says. “I’m