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I kick my blanket off in frustration and scramble out of bed, wiping the sweat from my face.

I stalk to the window, pushing it open. A waft of dry air floats in.

I listen to crickets chirp, thinking about Friday and the permission form sitting on my desk, still blank.

Stacey snores lightly on the other side of the room, a steady rhythm to my thoughts.

I feel drained; after our fight, the time travel, and casting the two teleportation spells—the one after I got back to my world was so rough, I was barely able to walk to my room.

It felt like I was trying to wring the last drips of water out of a dish towel to get enough power to do the spell, but I didn’t have an alternative since I was in the middle of downtown with no phone after the bus lines had stopped running.

Kat’s words sting over and over in my memory; every insecurity I’ve ever had about being too much, too focused on my plans—it’s a new kind of hurt, an aching betrayal that rests heavy in my bones.

I’m still angry, too, that she thought I’d want to use her as a tool like that when I’ve been supportive the whole time.

She asked me to leave, so I did. I feel a grim sort of petty satisfaction, wishing I could see her face when I teleported, but it’s fleeting.

I mostly feel hollow and sad, and I miss her.

I’m exhausted, but I’m too wired to sleep. I take out Kat’s bag again and go through it, trying to form a plan.

Her runebook is a mystery; I fiddle around, but I don’t understand enough about runes to work any of it properly, and I don’t want to mess anything up or accidentally cast anything.

The documents, though, are another story.

It’s Kat’s mom’s research on the Ritual, including a written account of the prophecy.

I’m probably the only one awake, but I text the party group chat anyway with my accounts of the night, including pictures of everything. Almost immediately Adib responds with theories about the Order, and Erica suggests we look through other alternative wordings of the prophecy.

I wipe a stray tear from my eye. My friends are pretty great. I didn’t even have to ask them if they wanted to save the world with me; they were ready to help the second they knew there was any danger to begin with.

The school day passes by in a strange haze; everyone is almost already in summer vacation mode with prom on Friday and graduation around the corner.

Everyone is sharing their plans about where they got accepted and where they’re going.

For the first time in my life, I don’t have an answer right now.

I have a handful of acceptances, but I haven’t heard back from UCLA at all.

It’s really strange—everyone I know who applied heard back in March.

I don’t have time to fret about it or dig deeper, since student council is up to its neck in last-minute prom logistics.

It’s fun, though, to sweep back into the familiar sense of control and handle the whirlwind of coordinating with the caterers and doing last-minute ticket sales to my friends and classmates in the middle of planning to change the Ritual from the inside.

“Spell heist,” Erica says. “Say it, come on.” She gestures emphatically as we sit at our usual lunch spot, picking over the Ritual research.

“Not everything can be a heist,” I insist.

“If we play heist music while we do it, it can be,” Adib says. “Where’s your sense of fun? We have to have one, catastrophic doom and all that.”

“So if the spell heist is during prom, are you asking Kat? Do you have a promposal?” Ryan asks.

Adib elbows him. “Come on! They had a huge fight that’s unresolved, you can’t just ask someone to prom without talking about that first.”

“How would you do it then?” Ryan says, rolling his eyes.

“Easy, like this,” Adib says, turning to face him. “Ryan, do you want to go to prom with me?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t answer how they’d—” Ryan stops, staring at Adib. “Wait, did you just ask me?”

“I’ve been trying for months!”

I smile fondly at my friends, glad someone is getting it right at least. It must be obvious I’m thinking about Kat, and Jenn pats me on the shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sure she said those things in the heat of the moment; she probably didn’t understand your plan, you know.”

Erica nods. “Sometimes your lists don’t make sense when you’re writing them!”

“But it made sense to you, right?” I ask. I went over my analysis of what we saw of the original spell and what we need to do now to fix the Ritual. “Are you sure you guys want to help? I mean, my plan involves all of us volunteering as cornerstones, and historically… they almost all died.”

“Right, but we’re not doing the original spell,” Ryan says. “I believe in you, and we’re actively disrupting it using the power of love and friendship instead of, like, greed and stuff.”

I nod. It felt simple enough when I talked to them about intention and the Ritual and how we could stop it from the inside. We’d ended up talking most the night, going through the research together on video chat once it was decided it was an emergency.

“So the prophecy was overheard, written down, and keep in mind both Cantonese and Mandarin use the same script— then translated to English,” Erica says.

I study Erica’s screenshare. “Okay, what are you saying? Could it have been translated wrong?”

“Ten years of every Saturday at Chinese school for this,” Erica mutters. “Keep in mind I drew art instead of listening for at least five of those years, but I also had a poetry phase, which means I paid attention to homonyms.”

“Two opportunities for error,” Ryan says.

Erica points to the character 胡 in the original transcript. “This is the character for the surname Wu or Woo.”

Jenn nods. “It makes sense why it was always assumed to be Kat’s family because of this epic Jìngyi.”

“Let’s say the original prophecy was made in Cantonese.

First person who hears it assumes it means a family name, and writes it down as 胡 .

It gets translated back to English, no one ever bothers to look at any other possibility because it creates a given Chosen One scenario.

” Erica draws a new character next to the verse: 巫 .

“This is wu, which could mean sorcerer, magic-user, master of many things.”

“So the prophecy doesn’t mean Kat’s family,” Jenn gasps.

“It could be anyone,” Adib says. “Any mage. Anyone who uses magic.”

We all look at each other with bated breath.

“So we not only have the groundwork to pull this plan off, we absolutely can fulfill the prophecy. We can end the Ritual once and for all,” I say breathlessly with the realization.

I make everyone take copies of the permission form home, and then after school, I take the bus to the nail salon. Má sees me and immediately gestures me over to an empty chair.

“No homework today?” She clicks her tongue at me.

“No, just wanted to see you and say hi,” I say.

“What color is your prom dress again?” Má points at the selection of nail polish. “Want to match? Complement? Opposite?”

“You pick,” I say, settling into the chair.

On TV, the mayor is advising people to stock up on provisions and to prepare for a significant earthquake.

Apparently the latest prediction models are charting a 6.

0 or a 7.0 to hit in the next few days. There were tremors late last night, but what’s put our community on edge is that a bunch of people have gone randomly missing, and no one knows why.

I wonder if they walked through an accidental portal. I eye my backpack, where the form is waiting. The sooner we can solve this, the sooner we can protect everyone.

Auntie Van switches the channel to a Vietnamese soap opera. On the screen, a young heroine is celebrating with her friends after receiving a work promotion.

“Do you miss it?” I ask Má softly.

“Miss what, con?”

“I don’t know. Being in school. Having stuff to look forward to. A life. You were—you were just a kid when you had me.”

Má sighs. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You always say that.” I look guiltily around the salon. “I know… I know moving back in with ? ng Ngo ? i and Bà Ngo ? i was hard. And you can’t have dreamed of… this.” I gesture at her domain.

Auntie Van is gossiping with Trinh as they paint the nails of customers, laughing, lost in their own conversation while the women sitting in the massage chairs having their pedicures done are having a conversation about the ineptitude of their partners and enjoying each other’s company.

It’s just another day at the nail salon, but I know Má is smart, and I know she could have finished college. She could have done anything.

Má stops and gives me a soft, curious look. “Do you think I’m unhappy?”

“I just—I don’t want you to have to work so hard all the time,” I say. “And I know you do it for me, just like how ? ng Ngo ? i and Bà Ngo ? i left behind everything they knew to give us all a better life, and you gave up your dream of becoming a nurse to take care of me…”

“C ? c c ? ng,” Má says fondly. “If I wanted to go back to school, I would. Did you know I actually tried? I took classes when you started school, but I realized premed is not for me. I hated memorizing all those things, and when it came to those dissection labs, I couldn’t bear it.

” She gives me a wry smile. “Dreams change, you know. I get to do art all day, every day, and come up with new designs and support other technicians. And I’m getting pretty good at the tok toks. ”

“Má!” I laugh as she shows me a couple of her nail videos and tutorials, which have an astounding number of views and likes.

“Con, I have never regretted you. Of course life is hard, it’s always been hard, but you have always been worth it.” Má finishes my nails and turns on the fan to let them dry and gives me a wide, rare, proud smile.

I sniffle, thinking about Kat and how she never got the chance to have this with her mom.

I glance at the other people in the nail salon, the hustle and bustle of the world outside, and remember why I came up with the Plan in the first place. To help others, to protect people. And I’m going to get the chance to do it, because the world is worth fighting for.

I drink in the way Má looks at me, fond and affectionate. She’s never been a hugger, has never said I love you , but she has her own way.

“This is your mail, by the way.” Má pulls out her purse. “It got mixed up with Uncle Thu’s other bills. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for this one.”

My heart thuds. The acceptance letter I’ve been waiting for. They would have sent a copy to my email, of course, but I’ve been so busy with dimension traveling, I hadn’t even thought to check.

Má hands me the envelope.

A thin envelope.

I open it, dread already confirming what I know will be inside.

“I didn’t get into UCLA,” I say.

Má pats me on the hand. “It’s okay, con. You have the other ones. I know you really wanted to go there to work with that scientist you like. But there are so many smart people everywhere.”

The rejection stings, but I’m not as devastated as I would have been a few weeks ago. Back when my whole life was about moving forward and getting into the dream school—that was just part of the Plan.

But I’ve got another plan now.

“I’m so proud of you,” Má says. “You’re going to do so many great things.”

“Thanks, Má,” I sniff.

“I know you worked really hard putting that prom together, but promise me you’ll have fun, too.”

“Yes, of course. Speaking of prom, can you sign this permission form for me? I’m going to go over to Kat’s world and participate in…” I pause, searching for the right words. “A historic event. I’m going to help them solve a problem.”

Má takes the sheet of paper and signs it. “Okay, con. Good luck. Did you figure out how to text or call me from there yet?”

I laugh. “No, but we’re going to figure that part out.” My throat seizes up, and I throw my arms around her. “I love you, Má,” I say.

Má pats me back, surprised. “I’ll see you at home. Do you want me to make cá kho?”

The braised fish dish is one of my favorites.

“Yeah, that would be great,” I say, my heart seizing up in my chest as she hugs me.

In our family, we usually don’t say I love you. But I feel it all the same.

Love. That’s what was missing from the Ritual, and what I’m going to put back.