Gilded (The Gilded Series, Book One)

by Christina Farley

  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 a
rms. “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.

  Michelle’s eyes flick over to our left. “So when are you going to make your move?”

  I follow her gaze to the Dragon Plaza. It’s a mammoth ski house, designed similarly to our hostel but with a whole lot more stone, glass, and peaks.

  Michelle nudges me. “Not the lodge. Him.”

  The “him” she is talking about is Marc, leaning against one of the lodge’s massive white pillars and hanging out with the high school guys.

  He came. But what unnerves me is that he isn’t laughing and joking with his buddies. He’s looking at me, hands jammed in his pockets, and his black ski jacket flaps open to reveal a gray sweater underneath.

  A thrill shoots through me.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Michelle asks.

  I’ve somehow gotten myself into such a wreck that I know if I talk to him I’ll make a complete fool of myself. I scuttle ahead of the girls, now giggling at my back, doing my best not to look at Marc as I pass by. Silently I remind myself over and over that I don’t have time for a relationship. Somehow I’m going to get back to L.A. and leave all this behind. No hard good-byes. No heartaches.

  When I enter the ski rental shop the bell dings, signaling my arrival. It’s warm in here from the kerosene heating lamps scattered around the room. The smell of it, mixed with leather and worn boots, makes me a little dizzy. I head to the counter and order my ski boots as Michelle sidles up next to me.

  “Where’s Lily?” I ask.

  “Talking with Kumar,” Michelle narrows her eyes. “You’re in denial. You like him.”

  “I thought you were a peace activist, not a matchmaker.” I pick up my skis and head to the bench to change boots.

  When Michelle sits next to me, I find myself bristling even before she opens her mouth.

  “I can’t deal with boys,” I explain. “Things are too complicated right now.”

  “I’m sorry.” She fumbles with her boot clip. “I know I need to stop trying to control everyone’s lives and putting everyone in neat, perfect boxes. I just want you to be happy. You’ve seemed so—”

  “Stressed?”

  “Yeah.” She gives me a half smile. “Plus, with my love life now a complete failure, I needed to—I don’t even know how to explain this.”

  “You want mine to be a success.”

  “Yeah.” Michelle wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I know. It’s lame. But if I can be a matchmaker, then I don’t have to think about my love life.”

  “I’m sorry about Charlie.”

  “Tell me about it.” She bends down to redo her straps, but I think she’s just trying to hide her tears. “I miss him. It was the hardest thing ever to leave him when we moved to Seoul. But I thought we were strong enough that nothing could tear us apart. I was so stupid.”

  “Is the pain worth it?” I ask.

  She hesitates. “I don’t know.” Then she clasps my hand and smiles at the ceiling. “Yeah, it is.”

  After I’ve jammed my feet into my ski boots, the two of us wobble outside into the sun. Komo would flip if she knew I was out here on such a clear, sunny day. But all that seems so far away. I suck in a gulp of mountain air and feel as if I’ve finally escaped it all.

  I clip on my skis. It’s been a long time since I’ve skied. I glide forward, wobble, and fall onto my side. Okay, so maybe it’s been longer than I remembered.

  Michelle and Lily laugh from behind as I brush off snow and pull my hat back into place. I join in their laughter and manage to stand up just as Marc skis over. He swooshes like a pro as snow sweeps in a wave in his wake. I absolutely can’t let him see me teeter-totter. So I lean on my ski pole and try to act all nonchalant by whipping out a quick wave and a casual nod.

  “Hey.” He lifts his ski goggles to his forehead. “I see you decided to come after all. Don’t forget you’ve got hot chocolate duty with me tonight.”

  Michelle and Lily casually glide away to the lift, which it doesn’t look like I’ll be attempting for some time. I notice a sly grin on Michelle’s face. I want to scream obscenities at her. No! I want to scream at their backs. Don’t leave me here. Alone. With him!

  But I can’t. I have to pretend I’m completely fine hanging out with Hotness here.

  “You want to go down some routes together?”

  As in the bunny slopes? Sure. That’d be a blast, Mr. Ski Goggles. “No, I think Michelle, Lily, and I are teaming up.”

  “Really? Looks like they’re getting on the lift.”

  And so they are. Craptastic. I try to run after them, but my skis cross, and I face plant into the snow. I cringe, not from the blast of cold that hits my face, but from my idiotic fall. At least the snow will have cooled my raging bonfire cheeks.

  I lift my head and see a black-gloved hand reaching out. Any dignity I had five seconds ago vanished with that dive. I grab his hand and let him help me up, but then my boot snaps out of the ski and I fall into Marc’s arms.

  He steadies me. My face smashes into his chest. He’s so close, and I don’t pull away as fast as I should. But then, he doesn’t either. I press my hands against him to steady myself and feel his chest under my palm. My legs are Jell-O.

  “You need to unsnap your ski,” he says. “You’re tangled.”

  His face is close to mine, and I notice he’s got a slight dimple on his chin, too. He’d be at the perfect height to lean down and kiss me. The noise around me blurs, and all I can focus on is his lips and breath and presence.

  Then I remember my aunt’s words about Haemosu’s jealousy. Would he hurt Marc?

  I jerk back so fast, I stumble again. This time I must have turned the right way, because the ski sets me free and I can now wobble around like a normal person.

  His eyebrows cock up. “Maybe I could give you a lesson.”

  Tempting. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be hanging out at the Black Diamonds, so don’t let me slow you down.”

  Some kids by the lodge call out Marc’s name. It’s Ryan and gorgeous Min of the Long Legs. Marc looks at me as if for some positive sign to stay, but I turn back to my skis and ignore him. He glides away, and somehow I manage my way, alone, to the ski lift.

  Dad would’ve been pleased, and I should feel victorious with that sense of euphoria from overcoming temptation. I don’t. My heart is like the inside of a bamboo stalk: hollow. The ski lift jerks and I slide off the bench, but the cold metal bar keeps me clamped in place. Wind rushes across my hot cheeks, and I close my eyes.

  I almost kissed Marc. Out of the blue. In front of everyone. What had I been thinking? What must Marc think of me? My face burns as I remember how close our lips came to touching.

  Pine tree forests spread below. They look soft and mossy, and I reach down my hands as if to brush my fingertips across the tips of them. I spot the sprawling Dragon Plaza below and the little black dots of the skiers. Wait a sec. Why does that other ski lift beside me deposit skiers off at intervals like a conveyer belt? Mine sure doesn’t. It just keeps going and going and freaking going. My heart sinks.

  I’m such a moron! This lift doesn’t go to the beginner slopes. I’m headed directly for the black diamonds. I may be a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, but I’m definitely not a black belt in skiing. />
  The station to get off is fast approaching, and another thought hits me. I don’t know how to get off this thing! I search through my memories. I come up with nothing. Knowing my luck, I’ll break a bone by falling off the lift. I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire eleventh grade.

  I brace myself as the bar lifts. The ski patroller standing there waves his arm, saying something I can only guess is “Get off, you idiot!”

  I push myself and slide down the little incline. It takes me a few moments to realize I did it. But my elation is short-lived as my eyes take in the slope labeled Rainbow Run in front of me.

  Cliff would be the more appropriate word.

  People pay money to leap off of that? I wonder how they can allow condoned suicide. It can’t be legal. Two skiers skim up to the edge of The Cliff, adjust their goggles, and disappear.

  I glance around for another slope down, but I don’t see any other way.

  The Cliff it is. I suppose if I can wear a pink hanbok in front of a thousand people, I can leap off a cliff, too. I swish to the edge, and my heart squeezes so tight that my arms grow numb. And then my legs. And my brain.

  No. I can’t get scared over some stupid cliff. I’m better than that. I ease onto my bum—it’s the only way—and as soon as I sit, snow seeps through my jeans and I wish I’d opted for snow pants. I focus on slithering down, my skis straight in front, and keeping my back against the ground. Inch by inch I grow closer to the bottom, which is all I can think about. Getting to the bottom. I’m at the edge, out of skiers’ range, but I know any minute someone could come barreling into me.

  I’m halfway down and nearly to the path below (which thankfully looks more like a ski run than my current suicide mission) when I hear someone calling my name above. I glance up. It’s Marc and Gorgeous-Perfect-Body Min floating past in the lift. And they’ve spotted Wet-Butt Me. I wonder when this day of complete embarrassment will end. She snuggles in closer to Marc and points my way, a gloating smile on her face. My chest tightens, and I’m not sure if it has to do with the snuggling or my current situation. Probably both.

  There’s no way I’m letting him see me going down on my bottom. I jerk to a wobbly standing position and focus forward, but not before I see Marc’s look of shock as he spots me.