have some Gom healing power. I know he’s just got my back, but TBH, it’s a bit rich of him to say I shouldn’t need magic when he low-key uses it all the time.

Besides, now that I’m on board with Hattie’s plan, I refuse to be talked out of it. This is my one chance to live the life I want to lead. Can’t he see that?

He sighs and picks up donut crumbs I’ve dropped on the bed. “But I can see you’ve both made up your minds. And arguing gives me gas. So whatever. Do what you gotta do. Just know I’m coming with. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two.”

Feeling relieved, I jump on the bed to hug him, while still holding a donut in one hand. More crumbs fall onto the sheets. “I knew you’d come around. Love you, boo!”

He makes a face and pushes me away. “Ew, stop it. I’ve told you a million times, emotions are bad for your health. They give you wrinkles. Also, I’m getting you a bib for your birthday. No joke.”

“Speaking of emotions,” Hattie says, “we need to get our hands on Eomma’s tears to open the lock. That’s what we need to brainstorm.”

We describe the three-step enchanted lock to Emmett and he immediately rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s so obvious.”

“It is?” I say. You can’t force someone to cry and collect their tears. It can’t be that obvious.

“What do we do every second Saturday night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Watch K-dramas and eat tteokbokki,” Hattie answers.

“And why did we have to create a rule that your mom can’t join us anymore?”

I groan. “Ugh. Because she’s got horrible taste in Korean TV shows.”

“Exactly.” Emmett looks very pleased with himself.

Hattie scrunches up her forehead, trying to follow. But it suddenly clicks for me. “I knew there’s a reason I keep you around!” I say to Emmett, grinning from ear to ear. “This way, she’ll be pleased we invited her, and we’ll get what we need. Win-win!”

Hattie’s still looking confused, so I give her a hint.

“Let’s just say there’s a reason they call K-dramas tearjerkers.”

THE NEXT MORNING WE GET UP so early, it’s still dark out. To be honest, I’ve hardly slept, because I’ve been so nervous. When I did sleep, I dreamed Hattie and I had opened our own healing practice complete with yoga lessons, barley-grass shots, and poolside meditation. The whole shebang. It was actually the perfect dream until the clinic got attacked by evil dokkaebi goblins who killed everyone in their sleep. So uh, yeah—not the best night.

Eomma and Appa are still asleep, and we pop our heads in their door.

“We’re just taking Mong for a walk,” I call out, my voice all shaky.

“We’re gonna go the long route, so we may be a while,” Hattie adds.

They mumble something sleepy and indecipherable from their bed and we quickly close the door before they can ask any questions.

We give the door-sin some nice compliments as we leave the house with Mong (who is looking rather surprised by this early morning walk), and we pause on the porch to make sure we’ve got everything we need.

“Lock of Eomma’s hair?” Hattie asks, looking down at the checklist on her phone.

“Check.” I tap the wadded tissue in my pocket. It was easier than I thought to cut off a bit while Eomma was sleeping. She won’t even notice it’s gone.

“Keys to the clinic?”

“Check.” They were on the kitchen bench, where they’re usually kept.

“Box of matches?”

“Check. And do you have the list of possible passwords?”

Hattie nods. “Check. They’re on my Notes app.”

“What about the tears?”

She holds up a small glass vial with the precious drops inside. “Yep, thanks to Emmett.”

Last night we’d invited Eomma to our K-drama binge, which she’d happily accepted. Then we’d suggested we rewatch the final episode of her favorite series, Stairway to Heaven. It’s super old and cheesy, about a woman who gets amnesia and forgets her first love and then goes blind. She gets new eyes donated by this other dude who falls in love with her. Super OTT and total eye roll, but Eomma loves it. And Emmett knew that it would make her cry, because it always does. That’s when Hattie and I had kindly offered her a handkerchief, like the good daughters we are. After that, all we’d had to do was wring the moisture into a vial. Easy as that.

“He’s kind of a genius, isn’t he?” Hattie says.

I grin. “And he knows it.”

When we get to the clinic, the sun is just starting to rise above the horizon, and Emmett is nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” Hattie asks, checking the time on her phone. “He’s late.”

“He’s always late.” For all his great qualities, punctuality is not one of them.

“Pssst!”

We turn to see a figure in black stealthily crossing the street. His large sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat obscure most of his face.

“I can’t believe you guys are making me do this,” Emmett hisses as he approaches, pulling his hat down farther. “My dad is going to kill me if he finds out I’m helping you guys break in. You know it’s a crime.”

“You volunteered, remember? Also, we brought Mong to sweeten the deal,” I say, passing the leash to Emmett. Baking and cute animals—that’s basically my BFF in a nutshell. Oh, and Battle Galactic, an online game he’s obsessed with.

He pretends to sulk but breaks into a full-watt smile as soon as Mong jumps up to lick his face. “Nice play.”

Hattie checks her list for the billionth time. “All right, team, ready to do this?”

We nod and put our hands together for a huddle.

“For service and sacrifice,” I say.

“For freedom of choice,” Hattie says.

“For making sure you don’t do anything stupid,” Emmett says with a snort.

Hattie unlocks the door, and we’re lucky there’s no door-sin at the clinic. It would totally rat us out to our parents. With a final nervous glance at one another, we step

Вы читаете The Last Fallen Star
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