Year of the Tiger (Changeling Sisters) (11 page)

And then it did

“I don’t want to be!” Rafael’s chair slammed back against the wall with a sharp
CLACK!
Young Soo and I were left gazing stupidly at him when the door slammed open.

Rafael’s eyes darted quickly from me to Young Soo, and he collected the boy in his arms, bringing his lips to his forehead in a quick kiss. Then he brushed by up the stairs.

Young Soo started to cry. Yu Li was there in an instant to dab away his frustrated tears. She drew him close. In the dim light, I could see rivers of wrinkles sagging beneath her weary eyes. I hesitantly reached out a hand, and her guard snapped back up in an instant.

“Don’t look at us,” she spat, dragging Young Soo back like a lioness protecting her cub. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating? You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Why I saved your life from the vampyres, I don’t know.”

“Yu Li, I didn’t want this—”

The slamming door nearly chopped my nose off.

Chapter 14: The Birthday Dinner

The clock struck midnight. My new, eighteen-year-old self, sat staring at Raina’s side of the bed, as if she would magically appear. Raina, who’d mischievously put trick candles on my chocolate-frosted cakes three years in a row. And the birthday presents she’d prepare—duct-taped boxes wrapped within smaller duct-taped boxes, until I was practically slavering at the mouth to uncover my present: the stuffed animal Chihuahua from Taco Bell.

I remembered getting so mad at her the last year she’d pulled that stunt, because the prettiest boy in class had shown up to my party. I’d felt like such an idiot in front of him, struggling through bandages of duct tape for half an hour, that I’d yelled at her afterwards. She’d stopped smiling then. I hadn’t cared; it had been supposed to be
my
day.

She still hadn’t appeared, and I realized Una would probably be creeped out to wake up and find me staring at her. So I turned over and dreamed about tearing through hundreds of duct-taped boxes.

“I’m heading out to the restaurant,” Mami said the next day, pausing to plant a kiss on my forehead.

“The restaurant?” I tossed my magazine aside to look at her. “Will you be back by seven?”

“What’s at seven?”

“My family birthday dinner.” I felt my cheeks reddening. I’d thought she hadn’t mentioned it until now because she was going to surprise me. I’d been looking forward to it. What with the pack still bickering about Maya’s mysterious invitation, I needed something to take my mind off things.

I didn’t want to worry about what they’d do when they found out I’d already accepted.

“Is it that late in December already?” she exclaimed with false shock. “Jesus, I’m sorry,
mija
. Why don’t you make it during the week? You know how busy I am on the weekend. I have a head chef who’s retiring, and Lord knows how I’m going to find another Mexican in Korea who can make corn tamales.”

“I am having something next week, but just my
friends
are coming to that,” I lied. Of course I still kept in touch with some of my classmates from school…but after switching to Jaehoon’s homeschool…and fretting about Raina for months… Okay, yeah, I had no friends.

Mami clapped her hands. “Why don’t you have your birthday dinner at the restaurant?”

“Why the hell would I want to have my eighteenth birthday in a place where I live, breathe, and sweat enchiladas?” I snapped and huffed from the room. Yep, still hadn’t matured.

Daniella called from America to wish me a happy birthday. She was taking her winter vacation back at home to visit Papi. Or rather, to nurse him back to health. It wasn’t just the alcohol that was killing him. It was the guilt. The longer Raina stayed missing, the further Papi pulled back from the world of the living, as if to punish himself.

Neither of us really knew what to say to each other, so Daniella chatted on about how well Hosuk and Papi were getting along. Fuckin’ pair of saints. But they were good people. They deserved it.

“Now, I know you’ll probably be out drinking, but don’t do anything crazy,” she lectured, switching back into teacher mode. “If I come back and find another finger missing, I’ll take over your homeschooling.”

I managed a smile. “That’d be nice. I’d like that.”

“I love you, Citlalli.”

“I love you, too, sis.”

***

Una was tied up with her Korea reunification group and wouldn’t be able to meet us until later. So it was just Miguel and I freezing our asses off on the subway out to Children’s Grand Park. And to my surprise, as we arrived at the subway exit—Rafael.

“Got your text.” He slouched, hands in his pockets, somehow looking colder than the chilly drafts circling around the subway exit. “Happy Birthday.”

He handed me a bag with a bright yellow hoodie inside. “It’s a zip-up track suit. You can easily slip out of it when you need to shift,” he explained.

“Thanks.” I buried my head in the bag so no one could see how much I was glowing inside. “I’ll look like a bumblebee.”

Rafael gave the smallest of smiles. “Then I’ll be able to keep track of you.”

“How do you know her size?” Miguel demanded.

“Miguel…”

“A prosthetic finger would have been a better gift.”

“They were all out.” Rafael tried a grin, but Miguel wasn’t buying it. “You don’t mind if I…tag along, do you? My break-up with Yu Li…really sucks. Young Soo got ahold of her phone last night. Left this fumbling message in English asking where I am. Breaks my heart every time I listen to it, but I just can’t seem to make myself…delete it.”

“Of course,” I said immediately.

Miguel shook his head in disbelief, stalking ahead of us. “This is a family birthday dinner,” he muttered. “Not a get-over-your-girlfriend pity party.” He shot me a warning look.

What?
I mouthed. Obviously, I wasn’t going to go down the rebound road. I’d never forgive myself for—my face burned crimson—just being that to him.

I’d always loved the lively seafood restaurants with their porch side tables of clinking glasses and pleasant chatter, and the bubbling of fish tanks with eels and cuttlefish pressed up against the glass. I was only recently brave enough to eat at such places because I was finally confident enough of my Korean—and if I needed back-up, I had Rafael.

The waiter came by our table. I took one look at the stiff-backed posture of my two party pals, and immediately ordered a round of soju.

“
Jeo-ui saeng-il immnida,
” I told the waiter, and his face lit up.

“
Saeng-il?
Birthday?” He snapped his fingers. “Soju I give you! Service!”

Ah,
service
. The national term for “free.” I grinned at Miguel and Rafael, but they seemed more interested in sizing each other up.

“So,
Raf
.” I winced. Miguel was on dangerous ground there. “What do you do when you’re not running around as a wild animal?”

“I’m a delivery man for Chicken Town.”

Chicken Town was the equivalent of a Korean KFC. Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? How long have you been living here again? Did your girlfriend foot the bills for you, too?”

I braced myself for a lean brown wolf to suddenly explode across the table, but Rafael only responded very cheerfully: “What do you do, Miguel?”

“I’m a
manager
at our family-owned restaurant in Itaewon.” Miguel put an arm protectively around my shoulder. “Family. You see, we look out for each other here. Got to. The world’s full of shitty people. You know what I mean?”

“No.” Rafael looked at me and winked. “No, most of the people I’ve met are actually very nice. It’s just that most people allow themselves to be
treated
like shit.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say, man?”

“Okay, enough!” I pounded on the table with my empty soju glass. “Seriously? You guys are comparing jobs a high schooler could do. And Miguel, you only got your position because Mami gave it to you. It’s not like either of you have much to brag about.”

“Delivering in a ten minute deadline or else the boss will have your ass is way more complicated than any high schooler could handle,” Rafael protested. “Have you
tried
driving in Seoul?”

Miguel shook his head. “Listen, Citlalli. I know I ain’t got nothing to brag about. Never have. All I’m trying to say is that you deserve the best. You deserve someone who’s got a job even some grad school kid couldn’t do. And don’t settle for anything less.”

“Miguel, I’m touched.” I hugged him. The soju flush was deepening in my cheeks. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me. But seriously, this is my birthday, not some match-making dinner. So you two are going to stop fighting like you’re two bickering old
ajumma
s and pretend to have fun!”

“In all honesty, Miguel.” Rafael stared hard at his full shot glass. “I wish I’d looked out for my family the way you look out for yours. If I’d just done that, then…hell, I wouldn’t be here bothering either of you.”

Miguel pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Here. Let’s toast, man.”

“Kunbae!”
We finished our first bottle in no time. I decided it was safe enough to take a bathroom break, to give the boys some bonding time. Seriously, the pair should be best friends. Both liked partying, drinking, and women. But the whole lost finger mess put a damper on things.

“Welcome back, Citlalli,” Rafael said when I returned, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Miguel just ordered his first dish in Korean.”

“Nice, Miguel! What’d you get?” I squatted beside him on the cushion.

“Well, Rafael recommended this one.” Miguel’s finger scooted down the menu. “Let’s see how adventurous Korean food can be.”

I looked at the entry and clapped a hand over my mouth. “RAFAEL!”

“Sorry. I am late.” Una rushed into the room, sweeping her shiny black hair behind her neck. Miguel almost stopped scowling. “What are we eating?”

The scowl returned again.

Moments later, (for live dishes didn’t take that long to prepare) a platter of gooey, squirming octopus tentacles was placed before us. The octopus might have been dead, but its nerve-sensitive legs still wormed around within their mushy membranes.

“Sannakji.”
Miguel looked at some point in the air above the wriggling mass of legs. “A traditional birthday dish, huh?”

“Just wanted to see how much you knew about Korea, dude.” Rafael’s chopsticks probed the tentacles and threw them into a wild frenzy. Several squirmed beneath each other to escape. “And your sister. She loves adventurous stuff.”

Miguel folded his arms. “I’m not eating it.”

“Come on, Miguel. It’s not that big of a deal.” Although, if I hadn’t drank so much soju, I might not have been so brave. “Here, try one— OOPS!”

Squeezing them between your chopsticks was only half of the battle. As I lifted the squirming tentacle toward my brother’s plate, it wriggled free and crawled across the table toward safety. Una laughed, not unkindly.

“Jesus Christ!” Miguel jumped.

My next attempt was a success. Although when I placed the tentacle in my mouth, it still wormed around. I gnashed it up rapidly.

“Dab them in a bit of chili pepper sauce. That’ll take the fight out of them.” Rafael swathed his on both sides and then popped it in his mouth. “Mmmm. This is a real juicy one. Una? Which one are you going for?”

“The biggest.” Una deftly grabbed one of the more disgusting globby ones, rolled it around the garlic sauce with leisurely slowness, and chewed as if savoring every bite. “What is your choice? Miguel?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Miguel’s chopsticks hovered over the live buffet.

“You can do it, Miguel,” Una encouraged.

“Your friends back home will think you’re hardcore,” Rafael said. “This isn’t for pussies, dude.”

“Yeah, dude, I know.” Miguel’s hands shook. “You think I don’t know that?”

There were far too many “dudes” being thrown around for my liking. Miguel glanced at Una again, and then squeezed his chopsticks until his knuckles turned bright red. The octopus tentacles and I watched in quivering anticipation as Miguel slowly dabbed a big fat one in garlic sauce, and then put it in his mouth.

He promptly began choking. “Ah! Son-of-a-BITCH!”

“Miguel?” I rose, knocking some of the tentacles into my seaweed soup. They promptly began swimming around.

“My MOUTH! The suckers are stuck to the roof of my MOUTH!” Miguel stood up, coughing into his hands.

“Now, hang on. Don’t panic. Try unclamping them with your tongue.” Rafael was enjoying this greatly; a spare tentacle wound itself in little circles around his chopstick.

“AH! This is—!” Miguel popped it off and began chewing with a vengeance.

“Make sure you chew it thoroughly,” Rafael advised. “Some poor old
harabeoji
ended up choking to death when the suckers attached to his throat on the way down.”

Miguel shot Rafael a furious look that sent the tentacles cowering. He swallowed it down, and then drank an excessive amount of beer.

“You’re paying for this one.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Miguel, they’re not so bad. Come to think of it, I’ve never had a meal that’s made me work so hard for it—” I dropped yet another tentacle into my soju glass. “MOTHER FUCKER!”

“Let’s make a bet.” Rafael said, taking his time with a sticky membrane one. “How many of these do you think Citlalli will actually eat?”

Una chuckled. “With her ‘accident’ drops, maybe… eight?”

“I’d say six.”

“Two,” Miguel grumbled.

“Come on, you guys!” I protested. “By the time you’ve finished chit-chatting, they’ll all have climbed off the plate!”

Miguel jabbed his chopsticks at Rafael. Horribly impolite, but I don’t think he cared at the moment. “It’s a bet. Winner chooses the next course.”

Rafael grinned. “Deal.”

Cursing, I fought for every last one of those slippery little suckers. It was my birthday dinner, after all, and I did not plan on dining on raw sea cucumber if Rafael won. By the time I hoisted the tenth limp tentacle to my mouth, all of the fight had gone out of it. Una and I cheered.