Kumar is brilliant. So brilliant that Harvard has its eyes on him, even though he’s only a junior. Maybe he might have some answers for me.
“What about different dimensions?” I blurt out. “Is it scientifically possible?”
“Dimensions?” Kumar rubs his chin. “Absolutely. There are all kinds of theories on it. People have been talking about it forever. Since Pythagoras. Nothing proven, though.”
“So what do you think?” I ask.
“Well, there’s this mathematician named Dr. Revis over at North Carolina State University. She’s got this theory that there are actually six dimensions.”
“We discussed this in class earlier.” Marc leans back in his chair. “Where two of the dimensions are time related.”
“That’s the one.” Kumar touches his mini and sketches out a triangular drawing. “What Revis did was bend the uppercase Greek letter xi until it looked something like this.”
Kumar shows us the sketch.
“So you’re saying that at any time, any of the six dimensions could intersect.” I lean over the table to get a better look.
Kumar sets his mini on the table. “No, what I’m saying is, at any moment, all or some of the dimensions intersect, but at varying intervals.”
“And according to Dr. Revis,” Marc adds, “the two time-related dimensions may not be running at the same speed.”
Okay, so that is so above my head, but what Marc says makes me wonder. How did Grandfather get to the cave so quickly? Is it possible that our time runs differently from the time in Haemosu’s world?
The mic screeches as a guy announces Good Enough back to the stage. The band saunters up, and within a few beats the room is vibrating with guitar, drums, keyboard, and pretty decent vocals.
Lily and Michelle rush back, deposit their drinks on the table, and join the group of dancers at the foot of the makeshift stage. I sit still, watching them. A sliver of jealousy runs through me. They are having fun, while my world is falling apart. I’m in a room full of people, but I feel so alone.
I’d hoped hanging out with my friends tonight would help me feel normal, but my brain can’t stop rewinding what happened in Grandfather’s cave, thinking about Haechi’s growl and the dokkaebi’s swinging club. I press my hands over my face and push my fingers against my eyes as if that would stop all the nightmares that have become my reality.
What should I do? Ignore everything like Dad suggests and hope it all will magically disappear? Or follow Grandfather’s advice and call Master Kim? I dig into my pocket and pull out the note. Master Kim’s address is here in Myeong-dong. I bite my lip.
No, I think. It’s too late. I’ll call in the morning. “I’m going to get some space,” I announce, standing.
“You just got here,” Marc says, but I’m already walking.
I can’t believe I risked eternal punishment from Dad for this. I could’ve stayed home and been this miserable. I weave my way to the other side of the coffee shop and slip into a booth where it’s quiet and I can think clearer.
After a few minutes, I debate whether to head back to my friends or go home when Marc waltzes over with that lazy grin on his face, holding a plate with cheesecake.
“I come bearing gifts.” He slides across from me. “Will this offering be enough for my forgiveness?”
I frown. Forgiveness for what? Then I remember I’m supposed to be mad at him for teasing me about my dress.
“Depends,” I say. “What flavor of cheesecake?”
“Ah.” His eyebrows rise, pleased. “She gives me a test. I live for tests.”
His delight in academics is almost sickening. I pretend to scrutinize the cake and then pick up the fork, cut out a slice, and taste it. Chocolate. Creamy. Totally delicious.
“Okay. You can stay.”
He smiles.
“You have two minutes,” I say.
“You’re brutal.”
“We all have our specialties.”
He takes the fork from my hand and stabs a bite of cheesecake.
“That fork has my germs on it,” I say, loving the way his hair keeps falling over his eyes.
“It’s my superpower. Eating after people and not getting sick.”
“And here I thought it was your brains.”
“Nope.” He points the fork at me. “That’s my cover.”
I steal the fork and point it back at him. “So why are you really here?”
“I wanted to get a better look at your new bow.”
“Are you mocking me? You’d better not be.”
He raises his hands in the air, his gold ring glinting in the light. “I swear on every perfect cheesecake in the universe.” But then the humor leaves his green eyes and his gaze centers on my face. I nearly forget to breathe. “I have a fascination with old things. They’re far more interesting than shopping or ski parties.”
“Okay. I guess you can stay for another two minutes.” He’s so cute. That’s got to count for something. I slide my phone to the center of the table.
He puts on his glasses. “It’s hard to see much from a picture. Did your grandfather tell you which period it’s from?”
“No. I suppose I could ask.”
“Cool engraving of the Blue Dragon.” He rotates the phone, scrutinizing it. “I’d like to see it.”
“You think by looking at it you could tell what time period it came from?”
He grins. “What do you think?”
I give him the evil eye as he studies it closer.
“Yep. Definitely the Blue Dragon,” he says. “There’s a legend about a bow and the Blue Dragon. Something about using it against an immortal.”
I lean forward. “Really? Do you remember the name?”
“I don’t.” He hands back my phone. “I’ll check it out for you if you’d like.”
“That’d be great.”
“It’ll cost you, of course.”
Before I can give him a good punch in the shoulder, my phone beeps with a text from Michelle. It reads: Going 2 check out the shops. U coming?
I see Michelle and Lily heading out the door, motioning me to follow.
“I think you’d better go,” Marc says. “They look pretty serious.”
He’s right. I should go and not let crazy mythical creatures control my life.
“Shopping is serious,” I say, and scoot out of the booth. “See you at school?”
He nods, and I love the way he looks at me, warm and interested. My heart does a little jig as I rush out the door.
Winter bites my face, nearly taking my breath away. The street has been blocked off from cars to allow vendors to set up tables and carts filled with jewelry, clothes, and food. The cart lanterns swing in the icy wind, illuminating the night with a ghostly glow.
Flurries of snow stick to my jacket and cling to my eyelashes. I blink them away and start weaving through the crowd in pursuit of my friends. When I come to an intersection, I swivel in a circle, searching for them through the snowy mist. Then I spot them down the street on my left. Lily’s plaid jacket and Michelle’s purple jacket stand out among the usual black dress of the pedestrians. I take off, yelling their names, but the music blaring from the karaoke bar drowns out my voice. Even though I’m shoving my way through the crowd and practically jogging, I can’t seem to catch up to them. Are they purposely ignoring me?
They take another turn, this time down a side street where the brick and concrete buildings all seem to have grown together in a winding warren. Where are they going? My hair is damp from the snow. I stop to put on my hat and gloves, but when I look up, they’re gone. This must be some kind of trick. I yell out their names, but the wind sucks away my words.