you were in diapers with my Yoori.”
Jihoon’s heart fell into his stomach. He didn’t like to be reminded about how his mother and Somin’s grew up together. They’d played together, gone to school together, gotten pregnant together. But Somin’s mother had stayed and his had left.
“I like your cooking.” Somin hugged Halmeoni. “Maybe I’ll marry Jihoon-ah, and then I’ll get to eat it every day.”
Jihoon finally spoke. “Who says I would even marry you, Lee Somin? You know I hate it when other people tell me what to do.”
“Jihoon-ah!” all three of them said with varying degrees of affection and scolding.
“Oh, look at our Hoonie.” Somin’s mom pinched his cheek with a devilish glint in her eyes. He only allowed it because it was her and she knew it. “You’re lucky, Mrs. Nam. Saves you money on stepladders with a grandson who can reach the tall shelves.”
He held back a laugh.
“Stop teasing him,” Halmeoni said.
Somin’s mom let Jihoon go, but he wasn’t free for long. Halmeoni turned Jihoon’s face to examine him. Her eyes zeroed in on the bruise on his temple. “What happened here?”
“Nothing,” Jihoon said too quickly. He could only imagine where his halmeoni’s superstitions would take her if she knew about last night.
Halmeoni stared at him so hard he practically heard her thoughts. She was deciding if she would push the subject or not. She let it go along with his chin. “I had a dream about a pig last night,” she said.
Jihoon looked over to Somin for clarification. She shrugged.
“It brings good fortune. So you two should study hard.” Halmeoni swept her ladle between Somin and Jihoon.
“Yes, Halmeoni.” They gave twin bows.
“Eat yeot. It’ll make the knowledge stick.”
“Yes, Halmeoni.”
“Here, take this out to table three.” Halmeoni handed him a tray of stews, still boiling in their stone pots.
“Then get back in here. I’m going to finish fixing the seasoning in this next dish for table six,” Somin’s mother said before resuming her bickering with Halmeoni.
Somin gave Jihoon a smile and an eye roll as she also picked up a tray.
Jihoon followed, for once grateful for the chaos that was his life. By the end of the lunch rush, he’d almost completely forgotten about fox-girls and goblins.
WHEN THE FIRST gumiho neared the age of a thousand, the Silla Kingdom joined forces with the Chinese Tang dynasty and overthrew much of what used to be Prince Jumong’s Goguryeo. It brought with it the rise of Buddhism.
Nine (gu, 九) was the symbol of the dragon and, therefore, the symbol of the king. It was the symbol of longevity, the symbol of immortality.
Nine nations were to submit to the Silla dynasty. They built the grand imperial dragon pagoda with nine tiers. The largest of its kind in all of East Asia, it symbolized the power of Buddha and Silla.
The fox grew eight extra tails.
Nine tails for power.
Nine tails for immortality.
6
MONDAY MORNING, MISS Kwon quieted the class to start homeroom. As the kids settled, she didn’t launch into morning announcements as usual. Instead, she cleared her throat and glanced at something written in her notebook. “We have a new transfer student today: Gu Miyoung.”
She gestured to the open door.
The girl moved quietly into the room. That was what Jihoon noticed first.
He half rose from his seat at the shock of seeing her. The dozens of times he’d thought of her over the weekend, he never imagined she’d do anything as boring as attend school. Let alone his school.
In the sunlight her face was striking. All angles and planes, a straight nose, and dark eyes framed with long lashes and curving brows. The boys in the room sat up straighter, like they were all puppets with their strings suddenly pulled taut.
“Introduce yourself.” Miss Kwon invited Miyoung to step forward.
“My name is Gu Miyoung.” She bowed. “My mother and I recently moved to Seoul. Please take good care of me.” It was the generic introduction of any new transfer student, but the way she said it held an edge of warning: Stay away from me. Her eyes were hard as they swept over the room. Jihoon waited for them to find him. But she didn’t even pause when she saw him.
“I think I’m in love,” Changwan whispered.
“Stop drooling.” Jihoon didn’t spare his friend a glance. He was too busy staring at Miyoung, who refused to meet his gaze.
“You may sit by Lee Somin,” Miss Kwon said.
Miyoung took her seat, keeping her head down and thwarting Jihoon’s attempts to catch her eye.
Miss Kwon finished