She felt instantly like an idiot. Kids made wishes on falling stars, not a sixteen-year-old who knew better. Her mom had once told her that falling stars were the tears of the Moon Emperor, whose daughter had been taken beneath the sea as a bride for the Serpent God. Every night, the Moon Emperor sat on the water’s surface and peered down in the hopes of glimpsing his lost daughter.

That was why you couldn’t point at the moon. The Moon Emperor regarded it as an accusation. In retribution, he descended from his obsidian throne astride his rainbow-scaled dragon and slashed at your ear as you slept.

Hlee knew, of course, that the story wasn’t the least bit true. Hmong folktales were passed down orally from parent to child, sibling to sibling, embellished or altered depending on who told it. But the warning was so ingrained that she still couldn’t bring herself to point at the stupid thing. She’d made the mistake of telling a classmate that once. He’d mocked her for months by shouting her name as he clutched his ear and pointed at the sky.

It was infuriating, really. What made wishing on a falling star any less ridiculous than not pointing at the moon? They were equally unlikely, equally childish. The only difference was the culture each belief came from, which, she supposed, made all the difference to some people.

She sighed and bent to retrieve her backpack. The Tupperware inside clanked dully. She swore, guilt chasing away the last of her anger. It wasn’t Niam Tais’s fault that people like Emilia were ignorant and hateful, and the only thing her brooding had accomplished was to keep Niam Tais waiting for her dinner.

The next day, Hlee’s mother spent the entire morning on the phone with Niam Tais. Hlee waited anxiously to see if she’d be scolded for the night before. But when her mother at last came into her bedroom, it was only to say she’d volunteered Hlee to keep Niam Tais’s new guest company.

Hlee still felt guilty enough not to argue. When she’d at last shown up on Niam Tais’s doorstep with the food gone cold in the Tupperware, Niam Tais had been so relieved. She’d worried that something had happened to Hlee in the woods, which made Hlee feel like a complete heel.

When she reached Niam Tais’s house again, she spotted the guest immediately. He sat out front, pale hair gleaming beneath the midday sun.

It wasn’t unusual for Niam Tais to have guests. Townsfolk showed up regularly to purchase fresh vegetables and her various herbal remedies. Distant relatives sometimes visited for the weekend.