Page 68 of Wish Upon a K-Star

I ’m surprised when it’s Hyejun who comes to pick up my mom and me at the hotel.

“It’ll give me a chance to finally use my license,” he quips, and I make sure my seat belt is buckled securely before we take off.

Hyejun borrowed a company car to drive us. It’s one of the nicer models—the back seat is plush, with an armrest in the middle.

“My manager says they can come pick you up when you return to Seoul,” Hyejun says.

“That’s okay, Hongjoo will come get us,” I tell him.

“Shouldn’t she get reassigned?” Mom says. “She’s not coming with you to LA. I’m sure the company will want someone who can actually speak English.”

I close my eyes and remind myself that Mom doesn’t really get how close I am to Hongjoo.

“Hongjoo can speak English, Eomma.”

“But she sounds very foreign when she does,” Mom says. “I don’t know if the Hollywood execs will like that.”

I force my lips together, practically biting them to keep myself from blurting out a frustrated reply.

“So, are you really going to relocate to LA?” Hyejun asks, glancing in the mirror.

“I’m not sure,” I say at the same time my mother says, “Of course.”

Mom turns in her seat to give me a stern look. “Hyeri, you’re moving to LA for the show.”

“Yes, but that’s just for a few months. I can come back to Seoul after that.”

Mom shakes her head with a dismissive laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t just come back. What if they promote you to series regular? What if you get more auditions? You have to capitalize on this momentum, Hyeri. Hollywood is a whole new market you’re breaking into.”

Just hearing her say that makes my stomach turn. The idea of auditioning in a whole new market, trying to convince people I’m worthy all over again, makes me feel a little sick.

“The show itself will be a lot of work,” I try to say weakly. I roll down the window to help settle my stomach.

“Hyeri, no, the wind is going to ruin my hair,” Mom says.

I obediently roll the window back up.

“You good?” Hyejun asks, looking in the rearview mirror. “You’re looking pale. Is your arm hurting?”

“She’s just excited to get to LA,” Mom answers for me. “Can you drive any faster? I want to go to the first-class lounge before our flight and fix my makeup.”

Maybe she’s right, I think. Maybe I’m just nervous. I reach for my phone, needing something to distract myself, and come up empty.

“I left my phone,” I say, trying desperately to remember where I last saw it. “Hyejun, turn around, I left my phone at the apartment.”

“We don’t have time to go back,” Mom says. “I’ll buy you another phone in the States. You’ll need one with a US number anyway.”

I frown. Does that mean I’ll lose all of my contacts too? What if someone tries to call me? What if Minseok tries to call me?

“Mom, I think Hyejun’s right, my shoulder hurts a bit,” I try. “Maybe I should take another day before we fly?”

“The tickets are nonrefundable. It’s not like you broke anything. You should be fine.”

“I’m not feeling well.” I can taste the beginning of bile rising in my throat.

“We’re almost at the bridge,” Mom says.

“Oppa, pull over,” I call out.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“I said pull over!” I scream.

Hyejun pulls the car off the road into the parking lot of a high rise.

As soon as the brakes are on, I burst out of the car. I feel like I’m going to throw up.