Gilded (12 page)

Get married? Hardly.

Flee the country? I wish.

Fight off Haemosu? I wouldn’t mind nailing him with one of my side kicks.

On Monday night I ask Komo at our training session if she thinks I could take down Haemosu. She doubles over, laughing hysterically.

Who knew I was such a comedian?

Escaping my “destiny” is all I’ve been thinking about in the three days since my first encounter with my crazy aunt.

“Jae, you should start brushing up on your Chinese. I need your help going through these scrolls. We might be able to find clues within these ancient texts.”

“Brushing up?” I say. “More like learning for the first time. There’s no way I can cram that much that fast.”

“Are you not taking advanced Korean?”

“Yeah. Advanced
Korean
. We hardly spend any time on Classical Chinese.”

When I get home, a nagging memory has me rummaging through the closet where we keep Mom’s things until I find the leather-bound book I think might give me some answers. Mom’s copy of
Samguk Yusa
.

It’s so old, the string binding is frayed and the edges of the soft leather cover ragged. The rice paper makes the book light and bendable. It smells aged, with hints of dust and leather. I cradle it in my hands, remembering her and her passion for knowledge.

Finally, I turn the pages with the lightest touch of my forefinger until I find the legend of Haemosu. I try to wade through it but quickly realize the language is too difficult. I need help.

The next morning I wrap the book in a padded cloth and bring it to school. I arrive at IB Korean class early; and, with
Samguk Yusa
pressed against my chest, I march up to Mrs. Song’s desk.

I lick my lips and dive in. “Mrs. Song, I know I’m failing this class, but I’m determined to improve my grade.”

Mrs. Song looks up over her glasses. “I’m pleased to hear this, Miss Lee. But remember, you only have three more weeks before the end of the quarter. I’m not sure it’s possible.”

I take a deep breath and plaster on my sweetest smile. “This book is one of my mom’s treasures.” I place it on her desk. Her eyebrows rise, and she sets down the purple pen she uses to grade with. I continue, “It’s a rare edition of
Samguk Yusa
, written in Classical Chinese.”

“I’ve never seen such a book,” she says. “This is your mother’s?”

“
Was
my mother’s. She’s, uh, dead now.” I swallow. Even though it’s been four years, it’s still hard to say the words. “But I can’t read it, obviously, since my Chinese sucks. I was wondering
if I could translate the myth of Haemosu and Princess Yuhwa for extra credit. Maybe you could give me some starting points or a reference guide.”

With delicate fingers, Mrs. Song flips through the book, every once in a while glancing up at me over her glasses.

“Fascinating,” she says. “I’m impressed at your creativity in choosing such an unusual extra credit assignment. This is exactly what the International Baccalaureate Program is seeking in their students. But why, may I ask, did you choose this particular myth?”

If she only knew
. I shrug casually. “It’s a family favorite.”

“In that case, I agree to your proposal.” Mrs. Song opens her filing cabinet and hands me a packet. It’s an instruction manual for translating Chinese into English. “This should give you a starting point. Read it tonight, make an initial attempt at the first page, and see me tomorrow.”

I practically glide to my seat, already skimming through her packet; but as I do, I realize this isn’t going to be a one-night project. This is going to take time. A
long
time.

And time has become my enemy.

Class begins, and I tuck the packet into my backpack, the elation of my small victory dissipating. I wrap up the book and gaze around the room at my classmates. With each passing day, I feel that tug, that need to stop Haemosu’s madness. I don’t know if Komo and Grandfather are right, that I’m the one who has to make this happen; but somewhere deep inside it’s as if I’ve been waiting for this all my life. Still, if Dad actually believed me about Haemosu, all this insanity could be left behind. We could move back to L.A. and then I wouldn’t have to learn Chinese,
make new friends, or fall head over heels for a guy that Dad will forbid me to date.

Last night I’d mentioned the
moving
word to Dad while he was practicing his putting in the hallway.

“Moving?” He’d put one finger up to silence me and focused on the tiny white ball on his portable putting green. “I can’t deal with that right now.”

“Dad!” I’d said. “Are you listening to me? Or is that golf ball more important that I am?”

He’d gone to putt the ball, but I’d bent down and snatched it up.

“Dad, I’m serious,” I’d said, crossing my arms. “We need to talk about this, and you’re never around. Do you think Grandfather might be telling the truth about this Haemosu thing?”

He’d jerked his head up. “You’re not still thinking about your grandfather’s crazy stories?”

“I know. It’s bizarre. But what if he’s right? Doesn’t that worry you even a little?”

“Jae Hwa,” he’d said, pulling me closer by the hand, “your grandfather has been ‘seeing’ things for years. Ever since—”

“Sun?”

Dad had straightened, leaning on his golf club. “He told you that?”

“Sort of.”

Dad stared out the window. “Sun went missing when I was a senior in high school. She was dating a foreigner. A white guy from South Africa.”

Oh great,
I remember thinking.
Just what I need.
“Dad. Just because someone isn’t Korean doesn’t mean he’s bad to date.”

Dad had set his club against the wall and dug into his pocket, pulling out a thick silver-linked chain. “The police looked everywhere for her. The last time anyone saw Sun, she was with him. I printed out a thousand pictures of her and handed them to everyone I came across. We alerted the newspapers, and the news channel even mentioned her. She was never found. Except for this.”

Dad held out his palm. A broken silver pendant attached to a chain was cupped inside. I’d seen this before. This was the other object hidden inside the black pouch with Mom’s wedding ring.

“It was the necklace I got her for her fifteenth birthday.”

“You think the foreigner killed her?”

He had cleared his throat as he stuffed the chain back into his pocket. His face had a pained look, and I wanted to help him somehow; but instead I just stood there, stiff and uncertain. “Your grandfather blamed it on supernatural beings. I think it was his way of dealing with her loss. Make it less his fault for letting her go out with that guy.”

“But it wasn’t Grandfather’s or that guy’s fault! It was Haemosu. Dad, I know it.”

Dad had rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“So, you don’t believe any of the old stories?” I’d said. “What about that evidence Grandfather had in the cave? What about the stories from our family?”

“Evidence? I’m not sure I’d call it that. Everyone has their way of dealing with things. His way isn’t mine and that’s fine, but there’s something else you need to know.”

“Okay,” I’d said.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting time with your aunt. It was wrong of me to have kept you from meeting her. I was worried that she would get you wrapped up in those stories as well. Your grandfather somehow convinced her that his delusions were true. She’s spent her whole life seeking a phantom that doesn’t exist. And what does she have to show for it? She’s never married. She lives like a hermit. Don’t let either of them ruin your life, too.”

Now, sitting here in class, Dad’s words bounce back and forth in my head like a sparring match. There’s no way Dad is going to let me leave the country. I see that now.

Komo’s suggestion to convince Dad to let me get married or run away seems ridiculous, but what other choice do I have? Outside the classroom, winter howls, and the barren cherry tree branches shift and bend to its force. I wonder how much more of my family’s insanity I can handle.

My eyes wander from my vocabulary list and scan the room for possible husbands to keep me from focusing on reality. It’s comical to think about it. Me. Sixteen. Married.

I mean, there’s Jared; he’s kind of cute, but his breath always stinks. Tyler’s a definite possibility, but he’s too tall. I’m not an expert on kissing, but I think it would be awkward to kiss someone so high up. He’d have to have a bendable giraffe’s neck to make it work. I snort at the thought.

“What are you snickering about?” Michelle whispers as she slides in beside me when Mrs. Song isn’t looking. We usually share the same table so it’s easy to squeeze close and gossip, but I’ve been sitting by myself lately.

“I’m choosing my husband.” I smile deviously.

Her eyes bug out. “You’re not going all Korean on me.”

I choke to keep from laughing. In Korea, there are still some parents who arrange marriages for their kids. I can’t imagine being set up to marry someone I’ve only met a couple times at a dinner date.

“Well, after you two deserted me Saturday night, I decided I needed some type of companionship. So I’m on the hunt,” I say. “Where did you two go after you left the Coffee Bean? I looked everywhere for you.”

Her face brightens. “You did? We thought you decided not to come. And you didn’t answer any of my texts.”

“That’s weird.”

“Okay, truth time. Are you ditching us as friends or what?”

“No!” I practically yell, which draws the attention of everyone in the class and a frown from Mrs. Song. “It’s family stuff. I’m hoping things will smooth out soon.”

“So does that mean you’ll still be roommates with Lily and me on the ski trip this weekend?”

Guilt swirls through me. I feel as if I’ve totally been neglecting Michelle and Lily. Every time they ask me to do something, I’m always saying no these days.

Then I think about my aunt. She’s totally against the ski trip, especially since it’s outside of Seoul in the mountains. I thumb through the edges of my notebook. What should I do?

“Marc will be there,” Michelle says slyly. “Plenty of chances for alone time.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile curling up. What would it be like for his hand to touch my face and our bodies to press against each other?

What would it be like to kiss him?

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Michelle grins and heads back to her seat.

After class, as I weave my way through the crowded hallway to my locker, everything bad that happened last Saturday night seems to have melted away. Just the thought of leaving the city lifts a weight off me. For the last three days I’ve done exactly what Komo told me to do: stayed out of the sunlight and not wandered places alone. I trained with her for the last two out of three nights, even when Michelle and Lily invited me over to study for the IB bio exam. I didn’t mind so much because she taught me a couple of her special moves.

Besides, if this Haemosu guy really was interested in me, he’d have come after me by now. I’m sure of it.

The air smells like pine, and it’s so fresh and clean as I step off the school bus at Yongpyong Ski Resort that my blood starts pumping. I’ve only been living in Seoul for six weeks, but already I’ve gotten used to the smog and belch of city buses. Here in the mountains it’s rugged, with silver snow that sparkles like mounds of sugar.

There are ninety of us juniors pouring out of the buses and into the parking lot, so Michelle and I have to push and shove our way to the luggage pile to pick up our bags. I let my eyes stray, looking for Marc, but I don’t see him. He rode in a different bus with Kumar and Lily, and I haven’t seen him since. I imagine him sitting with Min and feel slightly ill.

Once we collect everything, we follow the mass down the brick walkway lined with waist-high stone walls into the hostel where our group is staying.

The hostel is a three-story European-styled building with alternating white and brick walls and peaked gables, reminding
me of a Swiss chalet. With the jagged, white-peaked mountains and forested hills, it is like stepping into a European fairy tale.

Inside, the lobby is sparse, with white-tiled floors, white walls, and a wooden ceiling. I notice Mr. Carlson at the long reception desk checking us all in, so Michelle and I find a place to sit until Lily and Kumar discover us.

It doesn’t take long for Lily, her long blond hair streaming behind her, to spot us. She literally runs into my arms. “I’m so glad you decided to come. This is going to be the best trip ever,” she announces, practically bouncing up and down. “I just know it.”

I stand there stiffly and clear my throat. My family doesn’t hug (unless someone’s secret cave goes up in flames), so I’m not sure how to handle this.

Kumar waves his hands in a hug-like motion while mouthing something that looks like
Hug her
. I manage to pat her back, and as she pulls away, I give her my brightest smile.

Mr. Carlson comes around and hands us the key to our room, where we deposit our bags before heading to the slopes. I’ve yet to spy Marc, which makes me wonder if he actually came at all. Outside, my boots crunch and sink into the snow as Michelle, Lily, and I take the shoveled path to the Dragon Plaza to rent our skis.