The Last Fallen Star, Graci Kim [books to read in your 20s .TXT] 📗

By the time we get home from class, Emmett is already waiting on the front porch. He’s perched on the railing, and he’s so short, his feet dangle freely. As usual, he’s dressed from head to toe in black, and he’s sporting his signature scowling resting face, which is basically the only accessory he ever wears aside from his silver ring and black cord necklace. There is a Tupperware container of donuts in his lap, and I fist-pump the air. Twice. Baking is Emmett’s number one love in life, and his donuts are so good I once bedazzled a T-shirt to say DONUT TOUCH MY DONUTS! Uh-huh, I’m totes obsessed.

Emmett passes me the Tupperware. “Thought we might need some brain food.”

I throw him a grateful smile and hug the donuts to my chest as we walk to the front door.

“Thank you for keeping the leaves out, door-sin,” Hattie says to the door.

“You’re so good at keeping the rain out, door-sin,” I coo.

The door groans happily in response and unlocks itself for us.

Emmett, on the other hand, forgets to address the door-sin correctly. “You look so shiny and mahogany today,” he says.

Sure enough, the door hits him in the butt as he walks over its threshold. Rookie mistake.

“Ow! I mean, you look so shiny and mahogany today, door-sin,” he corrects himself.

Gifted homes are pretty special. Eomma says it’s because they witness so much magic they become a little magical themselves. The walls breathe and the floors listen, and sometimes they whisper into our ears while we’re asleep. Certain parts of the house—usually the ones we use the most—absorb so much enchantment that they come alive as spirits, or sin. The door-sin, the kitchen-sin, and the toilet-sin are the main ones, but sometimes you get others, too.

The house-sins protect our homes, but you have to make sure you say something nice every time you use them or they can make your life pretty miserable. One time Hattie forgot to give the toilet-sin a compliment, and for the next two weeks the lights kept turning off while she was doing her business. It was particularly scary at night, and I had to stand outside the door each time she peed so she wouldn’t freak out.

We get to our bedroom, and Emmett starfishes out on my bed. “So what’s this super-important thing we need to brainstorm?”

Mong, our fluffy white Samoyed, jumps on top of him to lick his face, and Emmett’s black T-shirt is immediately covered in snowy fur. He could probably make a sweater out of all the Mong hair he picks up at our place.

Hattie and I update him on our plans, and he stares at us in disbelief.

“Wait, so you’re gonna break into an enchanted safe, steal the spellbook, then cast a dangerous spell that your mom has forbidden you to learn?”

Hattie nods enthusiastically, but I frown. When he puts it like that…

He sits up on the bed. “And tell me, what exactly are you gonna tell your parents when they find out? Because, you do realize, they’re gonna find out. Especially when Riley miraculously has healing magic one morning, just like that.” He snaps his fingers in the air.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” Hattie says. “You know how much Riley wants to be a witch. They’ll come around—eventually.”

He scowls at me and fiddles with his ring. It doesn’t look like anything special, but the inner band has a secret compartment containing some of his mom’s ashes. His dad had it made for him, and Emmett never takes it off. “Do you really need magic that badly? If your mom doesn’t want you to cast the spell, there must be a good reason. Why put yourself in that situation when you don’t need to? You’re fine the way you are.”

His compliment surprises me. Fine is not the most emotive word in the dictionary, but considering Emmett is allergic to emotions in general, it feels like a big deal. He’s obviously worried about me.

I take a donut from his Tupperware and bite into it before answering. It’s Nutella cream cheese, and it’s so good it makes me want to drop a truth bomb. “Because,” I confess, “I do need it. Having magic will make me fit in. Jennie Byun won’t be able to bully me anymore, I’ll finally be accepted as a Gom, and I’ll be more confident and brave and strong, like Hattie. It’s my answer to everything.”

When he stays silent, I feel a spark of irritation. “Come on, Em. You of all people should understand. Don’t you wish you could have stayed in the gifted community? Plus, your mom was the OG in the clan to preach about inclusivity after she married your dad and had you. We’re doing her teachings justice.”

“And look what happened to her,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, that’s right—she died.”

I immediately feel like the worst human being ever to have walked this realm. “Shoot, I’m sorry, Em. That was insensitive of me.”

After Mrs. Harrison was killed by the Horangi, Mr. Harrison forbade Emmett from having anything to do with the clans again. He said he’d already lost the love of his life and he couldn’t lose his son, too. As a result, he’s super protective of Emmett and basically treats him like a baby. I forgot that, from where Emmett stands, magic could be blamed for stealing his mom away.

“But you’re not gonna tell on us, are you…?” I mumble.

“Look, I know my dad treats me like I’m thirteen going on five.” He talks through the muffle of Mong’s thick white fur. “But he’s right about one thing—magic is bad news. And I don’t see why you think you need it. Look at me—I don’t need it.”

I frown and bite into another donut so I don’t have to respond. Emmett must have inherited at least a pinch of magic from his mom. I’m convinced that’s why his baked goods always make me feel better—because they