You always hear people talk about how they were so embarrassed they wanted the ground to open up and swallow them whole. This is definitely one of those moments. Except being swallowed by the earth isn’t good enough. I think I need to leave the planet altogether. Blast off in a rocket and take up residence on Mars or, at the very least, that weird space station thingy that’s always on the news.

I attempt to smooth things over with Chanhee. Because, when you’re face to face with a gorgeous guy, what else are you supposed to do? “I’m sorry I got a little freaked,” I say awkwardly. “I kind of thought you were a psycho killer and I was plotting my defense.”

Chanhee laughs. “Wow... I’ve been called lots of things before, but never a psycho killer. That’s a new one. So what was this ‘defense’? Were you gonna wrestle me to the ground? Pummel me with your brute force? ‘Cause even though you’re tiny, I bet you could do some damage if you wanted.”

“Oh no! You’re way too...” I almost say “hot,” but catch myself just in time, “nice to hurt. Not that I wish harm on un-nice people. I mean, I don’t wish harm on anybody. Not even Tiffany Hwang, who is, seriously, my sworn mortal enemy.” Oh, God, why can’t I not just shut up?! “It’s just that I sometimes go a little ninja-warrior when I’m startled.” It’s true. I am very easily spooked. When Inyoung threw me a surprise sweet sixteen party last fall, I got so startled when everyone jumped out that I stumbled and knocked over a potted plant.

It’s so embarrassing standing here like this, talking to Chanhee when my face is covered in nastiness. I mean, being around gorgeous guys is never easy, but this is worse than usual.

Chanhee smiles and, for the first time, I notice how flawless his teeth are. Perfect and bright white, like he just stepped out of a Crest commercial. “I’ll have to remember that. Note to self: Never sneak up on Heejoon when she’s watching TV if I don’t want to get karate chopped. Since we’re being honest here”—his eyes are twinkling like he finds out this whole thing really amusing—“are there any other times when I should proceed with caution?”

Is he laughing at me or with me? Oh well, the only thing I can do is play along. Maybe he’ll be impressed with my killer sense of humor. “Well,” I begin, “when I’m cooking. Not that I’m much of a cook but, you know...”

“Right,” Chanhee says, pretending to make a list. “Lots of knives and forks and other sharp objects. I’ll also steer clear of you when you’re operating heavy machinery like cars or forklifts. Although you don’t seems like the forklift kind of girl.”

I giggle despite myself. “Forklifts aren’t my thing. Tractors maybe.”

“Okay, no messing with Heejoon when she’s on a tractor.” He laughs. “Any other potential ninja warrior situations?”

“When I’m listening to my iPod. Or showering. Definitely don’t sneak up on me while I’m showering.”

“You listen to your iPod while you’re showering?”

“No, um, that’s not what I meant. Oh, never mind.”

Chanhee blushes slightly, and I feel like an idiot. Why in the world did I bring up showering of all things? Now he’s probably got this mental image of me . Not that I would totally mind him seeing me —if there were anything to see. I don’t exactly have smokin’ hot body like Tiffany Hwang. When describing my shape, the word twig comes to mind.

Fortunately, Chanhee changes the subject. “I’ve never been to St. Louis before. I don’t have a clue what this place is like. You’ll have to show me the ropes. You wouldn’t mind that, would ya, Heejoon?” he asks, his Southern drawl kicking in.

“Sure, no problem. How long are you going to be in town?”

Before Chanhee can answer, my dad comes thundering down the stairs. “Heejoon, hon, I really need to talk with you,” he demands, sounding very stern and fatherly. “What’s taking you so long?” Dad’s usually pretty cool and laid-back, so I don’t understand his strict tone.

“All right, all right, I’m coming.” First Dad brings over this weird visitor, then he freaks out when I play nicey-nice with the guy. This is all very strange. Usually Dad’s thrilled when I make small talk with his guests.

I grab my overnight bag out of the hall and cut through the living room to the staircase.

“Let me get that for you,” Chanhee says, appearing at my side. He really does have a nice accent. I still can’t place it.

“Oh, it’s no problem. This thing only weighs like five pounds,” I say, slinging the bag over my shoulder to show how light it is. Apparently, I don’t know my own strength because I sling it too much harder than I intend to. The back of the bag slams into Mom’s bookshelf and sends a bunch of stuff flying. And I do mean a bunch. Mom is the world’s biggest pack rat. I always that she’s going to become those hoarders they show on Oprah is she doesn’t start picking up after herself.

Chanhee begins gathering up the mess, sorting through papers and stacks of books and setting them back on the shelf. “The two us are gonna tear down this house if we aren’t careful.”

Despite my mortification, I giggle. I mean, really, you just have to laugh at yourself in this situations. I think I’ve set a record for hpm—humiliations per minute. Maybe that means it will be smooth sailing for a while. After all, I’ve racked up enough embarrassments to last me the rest of the year.

Suddenly, I spy a flash of material among Mom’s papers. Wait a minute. Isn’t that… sheer leopard print? And then I see another piece of material. Bright pink, this time.

Oh God, no.This is not happening. The stack of thongs for my mom’s article—most of them still in the packages, thank God—are splayed out across the floor!

“I’ll get those,” I say, reaching down and scooping them up. It’s too late, though.

He’s seen them.

Chanhee gives me a slightly bemused look. “Man, that’s some collection.”

“They’re not mine,” I quickly say. “They’re my mom’s.”

“Uh-huh,” Chanhee says, smiling. He picks up the rest of the papers, then turns and walks away.

“Heejoon!” Dad says when I reach the top of the stairs. “Looks like you’ve finally finished your ten-minute hike upstairs. Next time, try not to get stalled for so long at base camp.”

“Whoa, easy on the sarcasm,” I mutter under my breath. But to Dad I simply say, “Sorry, I was chatting with Chanhee.”

Dad’s tone softens, and he places a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, good. I’m glad you two were getting along. I appreciate you making Chanhee feel welcome.”

“Well, they way you were yelling for me to get upstairs I never would have guessed,” I say, before I can stop myself.

Dad smoothes his thinning hair down against his scalp. “I was worried you might be calling Inyoung or one of you other friends to tell them about Chanhee. I had to get to you before you did that.”

Whoa. Why doesn’t he want me to tell anyone about Chanhee? After all, it’s not every day I come home to find an adorably cute guy in the middle of my living room. It’s a juicy piece of news, and I definitely want to share it with my best buds. “What’s up with the cloak and dagger routine?” I ask. Even though my father is an undercover government agent he rarely acts like one. He’s usually the most low-key guy on the planet. My mom is way more mysterious than him most of the time.

“I didn’t want you to put anyone in danger,” Dad continues.

In danger? Is he joking? “Are you feeling all right, Dad?” I ask, playfully putting a hand on his shiny bald forehead. “’Cause you’re acting way weird.”

Dad motions for me to keep my voice down. “Your mother’s still sleeping. You don’t want to wake her.”

Oh, right. The pregnancy. Between my mega facial eruption and the Chanhee surprise, I’d totally forgotten. I give Dad a sympathetic glance and nod knowingly. “Mom probably needs all the sleep she can get right now, things being what they are…” I say, letting my voice trail off.

Dad gives me a strange look. “She had a late night, if that’s what you mean. We all did. Chanhee and I didn’t roll into St. Louis until almost two in the morning. And then we stopped at IHOP for a quick bite before coming to the house. Your mom was still up working on her column when we got here.”

“You and Chanhee sound awfully chummy,” I say, eyeing him. “Scarfing down French toast in the middle of the night like old pals.”

“Something like that,” Dad says, and then motions for us to go in my room. “It’s best if we have some privacy. This is a very delicate situation.”

“A delicate situation?” I repeat, pushing open the door to my bedroom.

Dad follows me inside and takes a seat in my desk chair. “Let me give you the particulars.”

I hate when Dad says things like that. It’s usually a lead-in to some kind of lecture. Like the particulars of my grounding, or the particulars of my driving privileges. Whenever he uses the word “particulars,” it means I’m about to get shafted.

Dad looks me square in the eyes and says, “Chanhee’s going to be staying at our house for an undetermined amount of time.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean Chanhee’s going to be staying here?” I ask. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shakes his head.

“And what do you mean by an ‘undetermined amount of time’?” I ask.

“Chanhee may be living here for the next couple of months. Possibly until the end of the school year.”

My jaw drops. I was expecting him to say days, not months. “What do you mean Chanhee’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months or longer?!” I exclaim, not that I’m totally opposed to this idea. “What is he, some long-lost cousin I’ve never met?”

Dad chuckles, “Funny you should say that. In a way, yes.”

A sick feeling comes over me. Oh my God, I’ve been flirting with my cousin! Ick! I’m as bad as some of those jacked-up people Mom writes about in her column. “Which side of the family is he on?” I ask, thinking, I’ve been to tons of family reunions, both on Dad’s side and Mom’s—and I have definitely not met Chanhee before.

“My side,” Dad says. “At least, that’s what his paperwork will say.”

“His paperwork?” I dump the contents of my overnight bag on the bed and being sorting through the mess.

“Yeah, his new driver’s license and school records. The central office should have them ready in a day or two.”

I’m totally lost. None of this is making sense. “Why does Chanhee need a new driver’s license? Did he lose his or something?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, but it’s standard for situations like this. It’s all part of Chanhee’s FBI cover.”

Suddenly, I get it. Everything Dad’s been saying clicks into place. “Oh my God.” I can’t think of anything else to say. So I just stared at him, shocked.

“As you know, part of my job at the FBI involves keeping tabs on witnesses before they go to trial,” Dad continues. “Usually we store them at a safe house or in a hotel for a couple of weeks before they testify. Basically, we do this to keep them out of harm’s way so the bad guys can’t get to them.”

I nod. “Right. I understand.”

He takes a deep breath. “Heejoon, what I’m about to tell you is a classified information. You can’t breathe a word to anybody. Not even Inyoung. Can I trust you?”

I’ve never seen Dad like this before. He looks deadly serious. “Of course,” I tell him. And I mean it. I’m great at keeping secrets. Whether it’s something major, like Dad’s profession, or some insignificant, gossipy secret, I always keep my lips sealed. Like the time I found out our friend Joohyun’s little brother was sending Inyoung secret-admirer e-mails. Inyoung thought the poor spelling and grammar were because they were from this French exchange student named Luc. Since he’d already gone back to Paris when I found out, I figured there was no harm in hiding it. What Inyoung didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right? It’s good for her ego to believe a French hottie was into her.

My dad stands up and starts pacing the room, swinging his arms back and forth as he walks. As he gets to the far wall, his left foot bumps against my mile-high stack of magazines, sending back issues of Teen Vogue, Cosmo Girl, and Seventeen toppling over with a crash. Dad keeps on walking. He doesn’t even notice the magazine meltdown, which is weird since, unlike Mom, he’s a major neat freak. “Have you ever heard of Lee Ye Young, the Texas oil tycoon?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’m guessing since his last name is Lee he’s related to Chanhee.”

Dad stops pacing, thank God, because his right elbow is about an inch away from my DVD collection. “Good guess. Ye Young is Chanhee’s father.”

“And I’m also guessing that if he’s an oil tycoon he’s probably a…” I pause, gulping, “millionaire.”

“Add a few zeroes,” Dad says, “and you’re about right.”

“He’s a billionaire?!”

“Yes, he is.”

“The real deal?” I ask, astonished.

“The real deal.”

For some reason, this strikes me as funny. “Millionaires,” I muse, “are so passé.” It’s true. Nowadays everyone—from Paris Hilton to Mary-Kate Olsen—is a billionaire. And they exclusively date other billionaires, too. I just read an article about in Us Weekly.

Dad looks confused, but he doesn’t stop to ask. He just continues with the story. “One of the business deals Lee Ye Young is involved in has been attracting a lot of attention lately. The wrong kind of attention. I can’t go into the details, but threats have been made against Ye Young and his family—and many of these threats have been targeted at Chanhee specifically. We’re currently investigating the situation, and we think the people involved may be responsible for strong-arming several other big oil deals. We’re trying our hardest to catch them, but at this point in time, we felt it was best to remove Chanhee and place him in a safe house until all of this can be resolved. Once we catch these thugs, or once the business deal is finished—whichever comes first—Chanhee will be out of danger, and he can return to the Lee Estate.”

The Lee Estate? “So why is Chanhee staying here? Since when does our house qualify as a safe house? You’ve never brought any of the people you’re protecting before.”

“The Chanhee situation is complicated,” Dad says, “and I can’t give you all the specifics yet. For now, what I need you to do is not mention Chanhee to anyone. Not a word.”

I nod my head. “Don’t worry. You can count on me. There’s just one thing I’m worried about. Won’t keeping him a secret be kind of tough? Three months is a long time. What if Inyoung drops by unexpectedly and sees Chanhee? What if she calls and he answers the phone?”

“You won’t have to keep him a secret for that long,” Dad explains. “Only the next couple of days. Once Chanhee’s new ID and paperwork come in, we’ll be able to get to work establishing his cover. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he’s going to be posing as a distant cousin. That’s what I meant earlier when I said that in a way, Chanhee was a member of the family.”

I chew on my lower lip. I’m feeling nervous about this, like I won’t be able to do it. “So I’m going to have to pretend Chanhee is related to me?”

Dad massages his temple, like he’s got a headache coming on. “Something like that. I’ll give you the full details as soon as I have them. I can’t really tell you much more at the moment. What I need now is a guarantee that you’ll keep this on the down low.”

I giggle at his lame attempt to sound cool. “Sure, fine,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

“Great! We can talk about this more later,” Dad says, standing up and heading for the door.

“Okay.” Without meaning to, I reach up and start picking at my cheeks. The calamine lotion must be wearing off, because all of a sudden my skin’s itching like mad again.

“Hey, why is your skin so red?” Dad asks, noticing my face for the first time. For an FBI agent, he’s not very observant.

“It’s from this pore-minimizing cream Inyoung had,” I admit, ducking my head in shame. “I’m going to kill her for getting me try this.”

Dad studies my face for a minute. “Is it supposed to make your skin that color? Because that seems a little counterproductive. What’s the use of ‘minimizing your pores’ if you’re going to turn blood red and swell up like a blowfish?”

“Allergic reaction,” I tell him. “It’s not a big deal.” It’s funny how just a few minutes ago, my skin seemed so important. But now, after hearing about Chanhee’s ordeal, it seems absolutely trivial.

“Allergic reaction, eh?” Dad struts over and ruffles my hair. “Well, it’s not too bad. I’m sure it will clear up in a day or two.” He gives me one of those I’m-really-counting-on-you-to-do-a-good-job looks as he says, “I really appreciate your help with the Chanhee situation. And remember, not a peep.” He makes a little chirping noise like a bird. My father is such a cornball sometimes.

“Point taken.” I try to digest everything Dad has told me. It’s pretty freaking unbelievable. Dad’s never been the type to bring his work home with him. Although, in this case, I don’t really mind. A cute boy is welcome in our home any time as far as I’m concerned. “So what’s Chanhee going to do while he’s here?” I ask, as Dad makes his way to the door. “I mean, won’t he be out of his mind just sitting around the house all day?”

“Oh, I thought you realized. That’s part of why Chanhee is staying here,” Dad says, giving me a duh expression. “The spring term just started at his old school in Texas and it’d be a shame for him to get too far behind in his studies. At first we were planning to get him a private tutor, but things worked out for him to enroll at Copperfield. So, starting in a couple of days, he’ll be going to school with you.”

Oh, boy. Lee Chanhee at my high school? This is going to be… interesting, for lack of a better word. I know Tiffany Hwang, for one, will be thrilled. She always makes it a point to cozy up to hot guys. She’s going to freak when she sees Chanhee.

“I trust you’ll show Chanhee around and make him feel at home? Going to a new school is stressful for anyone, and Chanhee has been through a lot lately.”

“Of course I will,” I tell Dad. And I mean it. I’m going to do whatever I can to make Chanhee feel welcome.

“And another thing,” Dad says, looking me dead in the eyes. “I don’t want to alarm you, but it would probably be a good idea to keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious while Chanhee’s in town. Not that we expect anything will happen. We’ve covered his tracks pretty well, but you can never be completely sure. In some ways, Chanhee’s life is in your hands.”

I feel all the color drain from my swollen face as this sinks in. His life? Good grief, I can barely take care of my own life. Just last month I sprained my ankle while trying to rearrange my closet (I was pulling a box down from the top shelf when I slipped and fell). How am I supposed to protect this hottie?

I must look pretty panicked, because Dad immediately adds, “That probably didn’t come out right. What I meant was, I’d like for you to keep an eye on Chanhee, just make sure nobody treats him oddly or takes an unnatural interest in him.”

“What do you mean by ‘unnatural interest’? Be real, Dad. Give Chanhee’s looks, I’m betting lots of girls at Copperfield are going to take an interest in him.” I feel kind of silly saying this. It’s not often that my dad and I chat about cute guys.

Dad gives me a half smirk. “That’s kind of thing would be considered a natural interest. I’m talking about if someone is overly friendly to Chanhee, or starts asking a lot of strange questions about him. Most of this is guesswork. You’ll have to rely on your gut instinct. Again, I don’t expect anything to happen, but if you notice anybody behaving strangely toward Chanhee, let me know ASAP. Got it?”

I scratch one of the spots on my face. “Got it.”

“Also, be careful of any strange phone calls. Like if someone hangs up when you answer. Or if we start getting a high volume of calls that show up as ‘unknown number’ on the caller ID display. I’ve instructed Chanhee not to answer the phone while he’s here. I think that’s safest. And if anybody calls here asking for him, you let me know immediately. If that happens, we’ve got an emergency situation on our hands.”

“Wow,” I say, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “This is totally bizarre.” I feel like I’ve been dropped into somebody else’s life.

“I have confidence in you, Heejoon. You can handle it.” Dad smiles reassuringly as he walks out the door. “Just think of yourself as junior undercover agent.”

At those words, a chill runs down my spine. An undercover agent. A spy. I feel electrified, energized. Almost like a mini Sydney Bristow. Except with shorter legs.

- - -

I'm sorry if this chapter is loong but booriing. I just want to let you all know the situation and all that. Haha. *bows* I'm sorry.

And no one is commenting. ;w; *sigh* I must have so much no one bother to comment.

Updated on: 3:04 pm, 27.11.2011