“You look like you’re ready to fall asleep. Go to bed. We’ll take care of things tonight.” Anna makes shooing motions with her hands.

The other girls nod in agreement. I’m too tired to argue. I bid everyone good night, pick up my plate, and disappear inside. I have enough energy to wash my dishes and set them on the drying rack next to the sink. The trek up the two flights of stairs seems endless, and by the time I reach the top, my eyes are half-closed. My phone pings to let me know I have a message, but I can’t bring myself to answer it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.

I’m asleep before my body hits the mattress.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I wake up to a pounding in my temples. I don’t remember drinking that much soju last night, but from the way a drumline has taken up residence in my head, I must be suffering a massive hangover.

I close my eyes tight and will myself back to sleep. Sleep cures everything. I hold myself still, inhale through my nose, count backward, but all I hear is the incessant thumping. Food, then. Hangovers can be cured by food. I toss my pillow on the ground and sit up.

“Hara? Hara? Her name’s Hara, right? Or Haru?”

“It’s Hara,” I mumble, finally realizing that the knocking is Jules’s fist on my door and not from inside my head.

“Just a minute,” I yell. I jump out of bed and promptly fall on my face. “Crap,” I say into the floorboards. I’d forgotten I moved my suitcase from the end of the bed to the side.

“Hara?”

“Give me a minute.” I climb to my feet and hop to the door, rubbing my bruised toes along the back of my calf.

When I swing the door open, I find a sober Boyoung standing on the other side along with Jules.

“Ah, finally. Someone here to see you,” Jules states the obvious.

I’m not prepared for a visitor. My bones ache as if someone ran over me with a truck. My eyes itch, there’s a gross film coating my teeth, and my tongue feels swollen.

“Hey, Boyoung,” I say from behind my hand. I know my breath must reek.

My friend gives a worried look and then, with uncharacteristic rudeness, pushes past Jules into my small room. Boyoung sets a shopping bag on the floor that I hadn’t even noticed the girl was carrying.

“I tried to text you last night and this morning.” Her tone is slightly chastising.

I release an apologetic sigh. “I passed out before I could answer.”

I hobble over to my purse and pull out my phone. It’s dead. I forgot to plug it in last night. “Ugh. Sorry. It needs to be charged.” I grab a charge cord and look for an outlet.

Boyoung comes over and shoves a battery pack into my hands. “Here. Use this. You should text your mom and then . . .”