CHAPTER 11: SNOW
The dead rat kinda killed the mood. I’d been nervous on the way to the Strykers’, balancing a huge bowl of kimchi in my lap, pulling at my blouse and slacks. Was this what you wore to dinner with a potential United States Senator? Did kimchi go with everything, even pot roast, like my mom said? I didn’t know.
Omma shot me a look. “Stop fidgeting, Snow-Soon. You look beautiful.”
“Says you,” I murmured, running a hand through my hair. I’d taken the time to blow dry it nice and straight. Of course my mother would say that. But what would Ash think?
The knowing look on her face was disturbing. “He’ll think so, too.”
Stunned, I’d dropped my hands.
Our old station wagon looked out of place in their driveway, I thought as we walked up the stone path. I couldn’t stop myself from smoothing my hair again. Ash’s house was surprisingly modest, two stories, large rose bushes surrounding the front, very homey. The bushes were why we didn’t see the rat until we got to the door.
The porch light shined down like a spotlight. My fingers tightened around the bowl in my hands. The poor thing stared up at me, its furry brown body pinned with a mean-looking knife. There wasn’t even any blood. It was like the animal had been killed with one stroke, straight to the heart. Unable to move, I swallowed.
Omma was the one who rang the doorbell. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the rat.
The door opened. I heard Ash’s voice but couldn’t look away. He trailed off a second later, and in the shocked silence, I knew we were thinking the same thing: Who would do something like this?
“Ash, honey, where are your manners? For goodness sake, I…”
Mrs. Stryker gasped, and I looked up.
“Who…what…?” she stuttered.
“It was like this when we got here,” I said as Mr. Stryker walked up behind her. Agent Evers and Agent Smith followed. They all crowded in the doorway, staring down at the dark present left on the doorstep.
“Did you see who did it?” This from Agent Smith.
“No,” Omma said. “But I wouldn’t worry. Whoever it was only wanted to scare you.”
“Well, it worked,” Mrs. Stryker said. Turning to her husband, she frowned. “Do you see now, Wesley? They’re getting bolder. It’s not just threats anymore.”
“Cheryl, calm down,” he soothed. “We don’t even know what it means.”
Her eyes lit, voice sharp like a whip. “It’s a dead rat, Wes. I think we know damn well what it means.”
Mr. Stryker winced.
An alarm went off in the house, high and keening. Agent Evers and Smith both placed hands on their guns, moving to block Mr. and Mrs. Stryker. Omma took a step closer to me—and so did Ash. I looked at him in surprise.
Shrugging, he said, “I thought I might need your protection. In case of an attack.”
But if that was true, why was he in front of me?
Great, I thought, nudging him back as the alarm blared on. The guy’s got a hero complex. Omma watched all this with laughing eyes. A cloud of black smoke filled the hallway, and Mrs. Stryker jumped into action.
“My potroast!” she cried, disappearing down the hall and into what I assumed was the kitchen.
“I’m thinking the potroast is R.I.P.,” Ash muttered. I couldn’t help but agree. We could hear Mrs. Stryker cursing from here.
“Stand down,” Mr. Stryker said and put a hand on Agent Evers’s arm. “Henry, I’m going to need you to report this incident to the police while I make another call.”
Agent Evers nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Stryker took out his cell phone and dialed. Covering the receiver, he smiled a smile that only political candidates could pull off at a time like this. The dead rat at his feet, his wife’s colorful curses—which, I had to admit, were impressive—didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.
“What kind of toppings do you ladies like?”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we were eating Papa John’s. The kimchi sat untouched in the middle of the table. It was so…awkward. Everyone was tense. Bruce had always been able to adapt to any situation—but I doubt he’d ever eaten pizza off of Mrs. Stryker’s fine china. Police officers went in and out of the dining room, taking each of us to be questioned. Every time it happened, Mrs. Stryker glared daggers at her husband who pretended not to notice. Ash wasn’t even talking much. When the officers finally left, Mrs. Stryker threw down her napkin and sighed.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, looking from Omma to me. “I really just wanted to thank you both for everything, make dinner for you. Now, it’s all ruined.”
“It’s not ruined,” I said, holding up my slice of double cheese. “The pizza’s great.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone?” Agent Evers said. The cops had already asked, but I couldn’t fault him for double-checking. “Smith and I did a sweep less than an hour before.”
Agent Smith piped up then. “Someone must’ve put the rat there close to when you guys arrived.”
Mrs. Stryker shot him a dirty look. “Must we talk about this at the dinner table?”
“Sorry, Mrs. C—but they should’ve seen something.”
“No,” I said. “It was too dark.”
“That’s convenient,” Smith muttered.
“Smith.” Ash said his name like a warning, but I couldn’t believe it. Was he actually saying...
“What?” he went on. “It is convenient. Minutes before they walk up, a dead rat mysteriously appears, and they claim they saw nothing? How’s that work?”
He was. The idiot was actually accusing us. Face hot, I looked to Omma, who gave the slightest shake of her head. Her eyes were ice, but she stayed silent. I’d always been more vocal.
“Jerk,” I muttered.
“You know, Henry,” Mr. Stryker said, changing the subject and ending my stare down with Smith, “I don’t think I’ve seen a knife that primitive since our war days. What kind was it anyway?”
“KA-BAR,” Agent Evers and Omma said together.
Mr. Stryker looked impressed. “Well now, you seem to know your knives, Mrs. Lee.”
Omma shrugged like it was nothing. She also knew her guns, her ammo, how to diffuse a live bomb and the exact spot to squeeze if you wanted to incapacitate a man in seconds. But I guess that wasn’t considered polite dinner conversation. Smith caught me eyeballing his neck and frowned.
“Henry, here, was top of our class.” Agent Evers raised a brow as Mr. Stryker shoveled in another bite of Buffalo Chicken pizza. “He knows everything there is to know about combat and weaponry. Isn’t that right?”
“I know enough,” the agent said.
Ash’s dad was either determined to make this dinner as casual as possible—or the messiest eater ever. Another drop of sauce dripped onto his shirt, and Ash rolled his eyes.
“Dad, for God’s sakes,” he said. “Swallow first, then talk.”
I bit back a smile and met Ash’s eyes across the table. He grinned back.
“Here, dear,” Mrs. Stryker said, thrusting a napkin under her husband’s chin.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Tucking the napkin in, he patted Evers on the back. “Henry’s too modest. He saved my ass a time or two back when we were reservists, took a bullet right to the chest. Those knives were a common sight back then.”
“You took a bullet for him?” Omma asked, looking at Evers with new respect.
“And I’d do it again,” he said. “He was my best friend.”
“Still am,” Mr. Stryker grinned, bumping Evers’ head with his own. Except for the hair which was dark brown instead of dirty blond, right then, he looked just like his son.
Ash groaned. “Alright, alright, we all know you guys have an ongoing bromance, but back to the mystery at hand. What’s in the bowl, Snow?”
“It’s kimchi,” I said as he lifted the foil. “Mostly cabbage and vegetables, sea salt, chili pepper flakes. Omma and I made it.”
“Ooh, yum, I’ve heard of that,” Mrs. Stryker smiled. “It’s very popular in Korea, right?”
I nodded.
“Kimchi goes with everything,” Omma said. “Like America’s macaroni and cheese.”
“I like mac and cheese,” Mr. Stryker said, staring down.
“Mmm,” Ash said and tried to sound enthusiastic. “Looks…good.”
Agent Smith snorted. “It looks like some kind of jacked up lasagna is what it looks like.”
He was right. The layers of cabbage and red coloring did make it look lasagna-ish. It was kind of embarrassing how everyone was just sitting there, staring at the bowl. Well, everyone except Mrs. Stryker, who looked like she wanted to smack Agent Smith upside the head. Ash was the first to reach for a spoon. Sending me a wink, he dipped into the bowl and took a good-size chunk of kimchi. I could’ve kissed him.
Instead, I held my breath as he brought the bite to his mouth. What if he hates it? I thought, hit by a sudden stab of nerves. Not that I was trying to impress him or anything. But still. I tried to read his expression, but he was blank slate.
“Well?” I said. He was taking too long, rolling the kimchi around in his mouth, chewing slowly. “How is it?”
Ash swallowed, closed his eyes. Not a good sign.
“Mom?” he said.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I think I’m in love.”
My first thought was: With who?
Then he smiled, and I nearly fell off my chair. Seeing my face, his smile widened. “Kimchi is officially my new favorite food.”
Oh.
“Well, then.” Mr. Stryker leaned forward and took two spoonfuls. They were gone almost as soon as they hit the plate. “God, that’s good! Cheryl, you’ve got to try this.”
Mrs. Stryker was already digging in. “It’s wonderful,” she agreed. “Mrs. Lee, would you mind sending me your recipe? My two boys would kill me if I let you leave without getting it. You did a great job, Snow.”
Omma nodded and sent me a look that said, “See, Snow-Soon? Everyone loves kimchi.” I had to give it to her. The way Ash and his father were attacking the cabbage mix was proof. No one could resist the sweet/spicy mix. The power of the kimchi was undeniable.
Grabbing another helping, Mr. Stryker gestured to his agents. “Come on, guys. Better get some before it’s all gone.”
Agent Evers took a small spoonful, but Smith crossed his arms.
“No, thanks,” he said. “Doesn’t smell right. No offense.”
Mrs. Stryker set down her fork. “God, Smith, what is your problem?”
“My problem,” he grit out, “is that we’re all just sitting here, playing house and trading recipes when there’s a rat killer out there. The attack tonight was serious.”
“Of course, it was. That’s why we called the police.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. C. But after what happened to Ash’s car, I thought you’d be more worried.”
“That’s enough,” Ash snapped, and I knew he was mad because he thought Smith had just revealed his secret.
“Car?” Mr. Stryker asked, looking serious all of a sudden. “I thought the Dodge was just in for repairs. Did something happen, son?”
Smith looked pleased with himself. Ash looked like he wanted to punch him.
“Someone keyed Ash’s car while he was at school,” Mrs. Stryker explained, putting a hand on her husband’s arm as he sputtered. “It’s alright, Wes. Everything’s fine besides a little body work. The slashes spelled, ‘Drop out now.’ Snow told me all about it.”
“You did?” Ash asked.
“Had to,” I said. “She needed to know.”
Man was I glad I’d talked to her beforehand. The day after it happened, I’d asked my mom’s advice, and she’d agreed that full disclosure was the best thing. Agent Smith looked disappointed.
“At school,” Mr. Stryker murmured and ran a hand through his hair, face pale. “I never knew it was that bad.”
Ash’s mom smiled sadly. “That’s because I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to give up your dream, Wes, but you need to take these threats seriously.”
“Maybe I should just quit.”
“Mr. Stryker.” Omma’s voice was firm. She waited until she had his full attention before she said, “These people are using your own fear against you. It doesn’t take that big of a knife to kill a rat. These are just scare tactics.”
“They teach you that in the Secret Service?” Smith scoffed.
The room went still.
He knew the topic was off limits, knew my mom’s past was supposed to be secret. Something in his voice told me he liked outsmarting the government, wanted everyone to know he’d done it. Like everyone else, I waited to see how Omma would respond.
She hit him with her cold stare. The longer she didn’t answer—sitting so eerily still it looked like she’d stopped breathing—the more Smith squirmed. I smiled. My mom could do serious damage with that stare. Better men had crumbled. The punk was about to get schooled.
“The Secret Service taught me many things, Agent Smith,” she said finally. “I went in young, thinking I knew everything. I was wrong.”
He swallowed.
“One of the things I learned”—Omma dropped her voice, eyes never leaving his. She picked up the butter knife at her side, twirled it around once, twice—”It’s not the size of the weapon that counts, but the skill of the user.”
Holy shit, I thought. My mom is such a badass.
After a moment, Mrs. Stryker cleared her throat. “You’re dismissed, Agent Smith. We’ll discuss your behavior later, after our guests have left.”
He didn’t exactly run from the room, but he didn’t take his time either.
Agent Evers stood to address the table. “I apologize,” he said. “My baby brother always was a hothead. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks, Henry.” Mrs. Stryker waited until they were both gone and turned to her husband. “Agent Smith never behaved this way before. I can’t understand what’s gotten into him.”
“Me either, Cher,” Mr. Stryker agreed.
“He is young,” Omma said as if that explained everything. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner. It was…interesting.”
“It was that,” Mrs. Stryker laughed. “Before you go, maybe I could get that recipe?”
“Certainly.”
“While you guys are doing that”—Ash got up, put his napkin on the table—”I’ve got something for Snow. To repay you,” he said with a wink, “for the kimchi.”
“You didn’t even know we were bringing anything,” I said, confused. Actually, he’d told me to just bring myself, but Omma had insisted. Koreans valued their customs—especially the ones about respect. You didn’t go to someone’s house without a gift. It simply wasn’t done.
“It’s up in my room.”
“Your room?” The squeak in my voice was hardly noticeable.
“Yep.” Ash titled his head. “Come on, I can tell you’re curious.”
I was, but…his room? I knew a ton of guys, but I’d never been in any of their bedrooms before. Not even Bae Bae’s. Something about it just seemed so personal.
Omma surprised me by saying, “Be quick, Snow-Soon. We’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Open door policy,” Mr. Stryker said, as if Ash had girls in his room so much that they actually had a rule about these things. Great. Maybe I was making something out of nothing...
“Alright, Dad.” Ash rolled his eyes. To me, he said, “You coming?”
The tone of his voice, the look he gave me, it was a challenge.
“Sure,” I said and followed him upstairs.
When we stepped inside, I stopped for a second to take it all in. Ash’s room was exactly what I’d expected—and not. It was a little messy. There were clothes on the floor and a full-sized bed, which was covered by a navy blue comforter and sheets. Tons of trophies, medals and certificates lined one wall. His soccer wall, I realized, noticing a framed white and green jersey with “Stryker” on the back next to posters of his favorite teams.
But what surprised me were all the movies.
There had to be over a hundred. The shelves wrapped from one side of the room to the other where there was a big flat screen mounted to the wall. From where I stood, I could read some of the titles, looked like most of them were action movies. Avengers, Bad Boys, Bad Boys 2, Batman, Batman Begins, Batman Forever…
I smiled, realizing they were in alphabetical order. Just like my own collection.
“You’re killing me here, ninja girl.”
I turned to find Ash leaning against the wall. His stance was relaxed, but his face was tense. “What do you mean?” I said.
“I didn’t think this would be so nerve-wracking,” he said. “I’ve dreamed about this, you being here in my room.”
“You have?”
Ash grinned. “Just about every night since we met.”
Wow. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’m pretty sure the reality’s giving me palpitations.”
“You’re nervous?” I couldn’t believe it. “About me being in your room?”
He nodded.
“But I thought you had girls up here all the time.”
“And why would you think that?”
Because of your dad’s open door policy, I thought but didn’t say.
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. But you’re the first girl I’ve had up here.”
“I’m not disappointed.” As he grinned, I hurried to change the subject, hoping he wouldn’t see just how not disappointed I was. Noticing the Captain America poster above his bed, I pointed. “You’ve really got a thing for superheroes don’t you?”
“Always have.” He shrugged away from the wall and came to stand beside me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought…well, here.”
I looked down just now registering the box he was holding.
“For being my bodyguard,” he grinned. “And for the kimchi, of course.”
“Do all your bodyguards get special gifts?” I asked, taking the present. It was a smallish box, about 6x6 inches, wrapped in green paper with a matching bow.
“I got Smith a pack of gum once.”
“Nice,” I said, trying to control my voice. It wasn’t like I never got presents. This was just the first one I’d received from Ash. A boy that I liked, God help me, no matter how hard I tried not to. The fireworks in my tummy were going off like crazy.
“It’s really nothing special,” he said, which didn’t seem right.
I’d never seen Ash look nervous. Not to mention he’d brought me up to his room, away from everyone else. My heart pounded a little faster as I gripped the box, but I tried not to get too excited. It could just be a pack of gum after all—a really big pack of gum. And then I’d feel like an idiot.
“Open it,” he whispered.
I opened the lid and…my voice dried up. There was nothing to say really. The DVDs inside were wonderful and thoughtful, too, since he knew I loved Bruce Lee. No way was I telling him I already owned every single one of the movies inside.
“What do you think?”
“Ash, I…thank you,” I said, running my fingers over some of Bruce Lee’s finest. Fists of Fury, Return of the Dragon, Game of Death. There was something funny about them, but I couldn’t figure it out. “This is so great.”
“Glad you think so,” he said and scooped the box out of my hands. I looked up in surprise. “Being the diehard Lee fan that you are, I know you probably own all those already. Am I right?”
I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said, reaching for the box. “But I really appreciate it—”
“Uh uh.” He held it up out of my reach, and I frowned. “Now, don’t get all excited. But these are actually my movies.”
It hit me then what’d seemed so strange about the DVDs. None of them had been in the plastic wrap new movies usually came in. They’d been opened—and apparently watched—already. The hell?
“What?” I crossed my arms. “I thought they were for me.”
“I can see where you might think that,” he said, smiling.
It was too much.
“Ash,” I huffed, “you can’t give someone a gift then take it back five seconds later. It’s just…well, it’s rude.”
“I was thinking we could watch them together.”
That shut me up.
“Not tonight,” he said. “I know you and your mom have to go. But since Guys Night is out…”
“Koi invited you. I heard him.”
“Yeah.” Ash leaned down to meet my eyes. “But he didn’t invite you. No offense to your friends, but that’s BS.”
I couldn’t speak. I’d never told anyone—barely admitted to myself—how much it hurt to be excluded, to be the only Elite member not invited to Koi’s get-togethers. But Ash had known. All of sudden those fireworks, the warmth right in the pit of my stomach, spread to my fingertips. I had the urge to do something. I just didn’t know what.
“Hey,” Ash said, putting the box on the bed. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“I thought maybe we could have our own Bruce Lee Marathon.”
It was sweet. Too sweet. I couldn’t even…no one, not even Min-Hee or Bae Bae, had done anything like this for me. The last time I’d watched any Bruce Lee with another person was before my dad died. Omma couldn’t, said it was too strong a reminder.
The grin slid from Ash’s face a second later. “But if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, too.” A beat, then, “God, Snow, I have no idea what you’re thinking.” His voice was desperate, eyes tight. “Please, say something. Anything. Just—”
Suddenly, softly, my lips met his.
I wasn’t sure how it happened. Refusing to stay still, my arms had wrapped around his neck. I’d meant to hug him, a thank you for his thoughtfulness. But in one of those awkward, yet perfect moments, he’d turned his head.
I didn’t know who was more surprised, me or Ash.
What I did know was this: When I went to pull away, Ash followed, prolonging the kiss and making a sound deep in his throat that made me shiver. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I’d kissed him. Again.