Christina Farley - Gilded

Chop off all his limbs.

“Jae Hwa,” Mrs. Freeman says from across the room, “I see you’ve made a list, too. Care to add anything?”

I skim over her list and compare it to my own. Okay, chopping off limbs really wouldn’t work. Maybe I need to pick up some of Michelle’s ideas. Mine are pretty brutal. “How about a carnival for orphan kids?”

“Fantastic idea!” Mrs. Freeman beams. “How about you, Marc?”

Marc sits straighter, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, Mrs. Freeman?” he says in a tone that makes him sound like the teacher here.

“What are you drawing?” Mrs. Freeman asks, and comes around the table to pick up the pad he’s sketching on.

As she lifts the paper, I catch a peek of the rough, penciled drawing. It has five dragons connected in a circle. My bracelet! Marc glances my way and covers his paper. I lower my eyes, pretending I’m looking at my notebook. Is Marc still thinking about the bracelet? He wanted to see it again at breakfast on our last day at the ski resort. I wouldn’t let him.

Now I’m desperate to talk to him, because I also want to know why his dad is an expert on metamorphosis. Okay, so maybe I can’t get the memory of his lips brushing my forehead out of my mind and I want more. But that is definitely bad.

Komo had said none of Princess Yuhwa’s suitors lived. Haemosu’s jealousy wouldn’t allow it. Would Haemosu think of Marc as a threat? And then there’s Dad. Last night over dinner he mentioned that someone had told him I was hanging out with a white boy and reminded me again to stay focused on my studies.

As if I don’t have enough to worry about.

“I was doodling,” Marc tells Mrs. Freeman. “It helps me focus. John Hopkins University School of Medicine did a study two years ago reporting that drawing stimulates the mind.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Freeman stares at the paper. “So has this drawing inspired anything yet?”

“I think Jae’s got the best idea up there,” Marc quips as if he’s been mulling over this for some time. “She’s got my vote.”

That was smooth. I wonder if he tutors in diplomacy. If only I could skirt around issues with my dad like that. Michelle jumps up from her seat as if Mrs. Freeman has given her permission and starts a whole stream of ideas on all the possibilities of a carnival. She winks at me. I smile and sit back, feeling as if I’ve finally been accepted into this group.

Until a note is tossed and lands on my notebook. Warily, I open it.

Back off or I’ll tell your daddy. Marc’s mine. He’s always been mine.

xoxo

My eyes wander to Min. She peeks up from her tablet and blows me a kiss. She has no idea that I could break her in half.

I rip her note, wondering how on earth I haven’t gotten kicked out of the school yet. Meanwhile, Mrs. Freeman absently hands the drawing back to Marc. The glow in me dies. What am I thinking? I can’t be a part of all this and deal with Haemosu.

Marc has the design drawn perfectly. So perfectly that the hairs on my arms prick up as if they’ve been pulled by a magnet. He rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, and glances up at me. Our eyes meet. My heart stops. He knows something. I can feel it.

When the bell rings, I grab my backpack and skirt around the table. I’ve nearly reached Marc, but Min of the Long Legs pulls him aside.

“So are we on for tonight?” she asks, draping her arm over his shoulder. “There’s a new movie playing at the theater in Sinchon that I know you’ll adore.”

She glances back at me, a smirk playing across her red lips. I press my books against my chest and glare at her. I don’t have time for Long Legs’s elementary school games or her jealousy. I bolt for the door.

“So,” Michelle says, breezing up next to me, “will you be on my team?”

I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Sure. Absolutely.” If I’m still alive then, that is.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Marc hurrying after us. I pull on Michelle’s elbow and steer her into the hall.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle asks, wide-eyed.

“He’s going out on a date with Min.” My chest aches. “Why did I think he could be interested in me when there’s a girl like Min gushing over him? Crap. He’s coming.”

I pull Michelle into escape mode, but he rushes to block our path.

“Can I talk to you a second, Jae?”

“Marc.” I’m a little unnerved at the intensity in his eyes. “Maybe later. I need to get to my locker before class. Plus, don’t you need to plan your date with Min?”

I really think I deserve a medal or something for keeping my cool.

He holds his finger in front of my face. “One minute.”

“One second,” I say.

He clears his throat and looks at Michelle. She raises her eyebrows, not budging.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, “I won’t beat him up.” When she’s gone, I step closer to Marc and whisper, “Someone saw us together on the ski trip. They had the nerve to tell my dad, and he’s forbidden me to hang out with you anymore. I think it was your girlfriend.”

Marc’s chin lifts, and his eyes widen as if I’ve slapped him. The books in my arms weigh a thousand pounds, they’re so heavy. I focus on my Converse sneakers because he actually looks devastated.

“What I wanted to tell you is to be careful,” he whispers into my ear. My heart lurches over the feel of his breath against my neck.

“That bracelet you’re wearing,” Marc continues. “You should take it off. There’s something not right about it. Tell me I won’t burn myself if I touch your bracelet. It wasn’t an electric shock back at the ski resort, was it?”

No joke. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve been researching it.” He glances around. “I think it’s a symbol of enslavement.”

If he only knew. He’s about to say something else when Long Legs sidles up to him. Will she not go away?

“Marc,” Min says sweetly, “I’m heading to class now. Care to join?”

“I’m talking to Jae,” Marc says. “Alone.”

“Let’s talk later,” I say, and then give Min my best scathing look, “when we’re really alone.”

She bristles and stalks away. Before I can say anything else, the warning bell rings. Great. I still haven’t gotten my calculus book yet. Ms. Wood is so strict about tardies. I’ll have to run to get to class on time. I say, “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Right,” he says. “Catch you around.”

He sprints off down the hall, weaving through the crowds as if he’s chasing something. I watch him for a moment and shake my head.

When I reach my locker, slightly out of breath, a piece of paper is taped onto it with an arrow sticking out from its center. What a weird practical joke. It’s a picture of a full moon. Doesn’t Min have better things to do with her time? I rip it off. And then I remember.

Full moon . The dokkaebi wanted me to pierce the belly of the full moon. He must still want to bargain with me. No one else could have known about this.

I glance around the hallway, half expecting to see his giant, ugly self pop out into the hallway. Nothing happens. Either he’s shielded me from seeing him or he left long ago.

The locker resists as I yank on it. I give it a hard pound with my other hand. It jerks open, and I fall backward to the hard floor. The noise in the hallway vanishes as if someone has clicked MUTE, except for a light tinkling sound. Inside the locker, my books fade away. The hook and the gray iron walls melt as golden light streams through and out of the locker. The warmth of it drenches me, tugging at my body.

I stand and stretch my hand into the iridescent light. It shimmers as if it’s sprayed with gold. One step closer and my hand slips into the locker. I grope toward the back, but it’s not there. I squint, and that’s when I can see a glistening palace, gilded in gold and gems. My breath leaves me. It’s beautiful.