The Last Fallen Star by Graci Kim (the mitten read aloud .TXT) 📗

again, my sister is floating facedown in the water in front of me.

“Hattie? Hattie!”

In a frenzy, I wade to her, and turn her over. She looks unconscious. I grab her by the armpits and start pulling her back toward shore. The wild waves try to swallow us, but I body-block them with all my strength. Emmett runs into the water, and somehow, together, we carry Hattie’s limp body to the beach. We lay her on the sand, and I drop to my knees over her soaked, still form. I put my hand on the side of her neck, feeling for a pulse. I think it’s there….

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

“Rye, she’s not breathing!” Emmett cries. “We need a healer!”

Never in my life have I been so helpless. I’m not a Gom! What’s the point of knowing all the words to the spells when I can’t use them to save Hattie? It feels like someone is punching my chest, over and over again, and I can’t remember how to breathe.

“Stuff it!” Emmett screams, taking out his phone. “I’m calling nine-one-one!”

The prospect of explaining this disaster to a saram police officer breaks me out of my daze. I crouch down over Hattie’s face and start giving her mouth-to-mouth. Last summer, when Appa suggested I take a first-aid course, I’d sulked for a week. Who wants to learn modern medicine when you can learn magic? But right now, as I pinch Hattie’s nose and breathe into her mouth, I’m so grateful I did.

“Ugh, my phone’s dead!” Emmett cries, repeatedly hitting the blank screen with his finger. He eventually gives up and drops onto the sand next to me. “Please tell me the CPR is working.”

I shake my head as a dam of tears explodes behind my eyes. I know my technique is right, but Hattie’s eyes remain closed and her body is still. “It’s no use!” I cry hysterically.

“Oh, bother. Where did my kitchen go?” I hear someone say.

My eyes flit up toward the voice, and my eyebrows furrow together. I don’t know where she came from, but a frumpy middle-aged woman with frizzy hair has appeared on the beach in front of us. Her knitted vest looks dated, and—I won’t lie—she smells a little like mothballs. But she has a soft, kindly face, and she’s carrying a soup ladle covered with an oily red sauce. There’s a picture of Winnie the Pooh on her apron with the line I’M SO RUMBLY IN MY TUMBLY, which is also covered in red stains.

“Who are you?” Emmett splutters.

My mind reels. “Ma…Mago Halmi, is that you?” Did the summoning spell actually work? Could this Korean Mrs. Weasley really be the mother of all creation?

The woman laughs heartily, and the red moon pulsates in the sky, as if chortling with her. “By golly, no. I’m old, but I’m not that old.” She waves her saucy ladle in the air. “I was just whipping up a low-calorie spicy tofu stew.” She pats her stomach. “I’m on a diet, you see—too many indulgent initiation ceremonies of late. But then I heard one of my baby subjects summon me, so here I am, ladle and all.”

I study the woman again from head to toe. If Hattie didn’t summon Mago Halmi, then who did she summon?

“I do love those honey-drizzled rice cakes, though,” she muses. “And I am partial to a good vintage rice wine on occasion.” She looks dreamily into the distance.

Indulgent initiation ceremonies. Honey-drizzled rice cakes. Rice wine. It all reminds me of Hattie’s ceremony, when the delicious food offerings disappeared into the Godrealm.

Suddenly, it dawns on me.

“Cave Bear Goddess?” I whisper.

The woman smiles warmly and tips her head. “At your service.”

I let out a series of loud hiccups, and I clamp my mouth shut with both hands. Whoa. The patron goddess of service and sacrifice—the divine ancestor of my clan—is here, breathing the same air as me. I picture her golden statue at the temple, with its long neck, silken hair, and youthful glow….

“You’re not how I imagined you,” I blurt out. The shimmery golden hue to her skin is the only thing that looks familiar.

She chuckles and her soft belly jiggles with the movement. “I presume you mean the statue?” She winks at me. “The good thing about art, my dearie, is that it does not have to be accurate.”

As the initial shock of seeing our patron goddess wears off, I realize this is not the time for small talk. “Benevolent goddess,” I say urgently, “we need your help.” I put my hand on Hattie’s unmoving arm. “We were trying to summon Mago Halmi, but something went wrong, and my sister…She…She’s not…” I break into another bout of tears.

“Shh, be calm, my child. I am here. Dry your tears. There’s no reason to cry.” The goddess drops her ladle, wipes her hands on her apron, and places one hand on my head. Suddenly, a calmness washes over me. It’s as if she has physically lifted the prickly weight that was pressing on my chest.

“Goddess,” I try again, “I will do anything you ask. Please, will you use your divine power to heal my sister? She was only trying to help me, and now she’s…she’s…” I trail off.

The goddess crouches down next to me and cracks her knuckles. “Well, now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She places her hand on Hattie’s heart, then lets out a loud sigh. “Tsk-tsk, she overexerted herself, I see. A baby witch shouldn’t be performing such demanding spells. And prohibited ones, at that.” She raises her eyebrow at Emmett and me, and we both look away.

“Will she be okay?” I ask, the heaviness returning to my chest. “You can heal her, right?”

The goddess looks from Hattie to Emmett to me. She pauses thoughtfully. Then she scratches her chin and speaks. “First, my dearies, do me a favor, won’t you? Tell me why you were wanting an audience with the Mother.”

I think on my feet. If I tell