The Jinx Ritual
Jiyu received lessons from Hunter’s coach every week for thirty minutes after his own training ended. It was an arrangement that had been smoothly arranged after Lauren went to great lengths to persuade him.
Jiyu had no real talent for sports. Yet Love’s logic was simple: tennis was a social sport for the upper class, and it would come in handy one day if she learned it now.
Even after his lesson finished, Hunter stayed on the court, watching her. He chuckled at her awkward backhand form, grew impatient when she missed an easy ball, and pointed his finger when she hit a moonball that hung from the net like a deflated balloon.
“Must you go somewhere else?” she pleaded. “I have to go.”
“Footwork,” he answered with a casual wave, never moving from his spot until her lesson ended.
Remembering that now made him even more insufferable in her eyes.
I can’t go. I have to go to Chloe’s birthday party.
Jiyu answered coolly.
“No. Come to my tournament.”
Hunter’s blue eyes flashed with a warning growl that bared his teeth.
Jiyu let out a long-suffering sigh. Normally she would have given in just to avoid his stubbornness, but this time the request was genuinely unbearable.
Chloe was Jiyu’s only best friend. Both her parents were Korean—she had a lawyer father and a law-school professor mother—and she shared Jiyu’s love for reading and fluent Korean.
The two girls could talk for hours without anyone else understanding. Without Chloe at school, Jiyu’s days would be unbearable.
Birthdays came once a year, but tournaments came twice a month. There was no contest.
“I’ll go next time. This week I can’t.”
Jiyu shook her head firmly.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
She took a deep breath, lips pressed tight. Talking to Hunter always left her breathless.
“I already RSVP’d and bought a gift. If I don’t go, Chloe will be so sad. We’re best friends.”
‘You’re not the only one with friends, Hunter Hamilton.’
The last sentence stayed silent on her tongue.
“Then what about my tournament?!”
Hunter shot to his feet, face twisted in outrage.
Jiyu stared, utterly bewildered. It felt as if she had sabotaged his match herself. She blinked once, twice.
“Then what am I supposed to do about your tournament?”
She turned her head away, avoiding his piercing gaze. She had no idea why he was acting this way and it made her uneasy.
After a pause she asked, “Do I really have no choice?”
“Damn it, Jyu Parker,” Hunter snarled through gritted teeth.
The girl with the paper-thin fingers and fragile wrists could be surprisingly stubborn. She never spoke up in front of others, but in front of him she never held back.
‘God, I really don’t want to say it.’
Still, she had no choice. Hunter’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling of the treehouse, where a single dried fly clung to a spiderweb.
He took a deep breath and finally confessed, “Yeah. There is a reason you have to come.”
“Then what is it?”
Asking Jiyu Parker to lower her head and beg was the greatest humiliation of his life. But he wanted to win.
Hunter knew he was special. Everyone around him reminded him constantly how extraordinary it was to be born a Hamilton.
He had everything without trying. He quickly grew bored with the things handed to him so easily.
Tennis was different. Winning the trophy by hitting the ball himself, sweating, chasing it—that was addictive. The moment he wanted something, it burned inside him.
He wet his dry lips.
“I have something to test.”
“What?”
“Whether you are really my winning jinx.”
“What?”
Jiyu’s large, light-brown eyes widened in surprise.
When he said nothing more, she asked again, “What do you mean? I’m your winning jinx?”
He rubbed his face with a frustrated groan.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe the reason I lost the last tournament was you.”
“What?”
“Jyu Parker, all you can say is ‘what’?”
“What?”
The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment.
Jiyu laughed outright, the sound loud and mocking. Hunter’s temper flared, but he swallowed it down. He was petty and cunning, but his desperation was real. Not for Jyu Parker—for himself.
He pressed his lips together, jaw twitching, and took a deep breath. He had never been good at holding back.
“Listen carefully,” he said once he had calmed down. “Every great tennis player has a jinx. Rafael Nadal lines up his water bottles in the exact order before every match. Serena Williams wears the same pair of socks the whole tournament. Roger Federer arrives at the same time and does the same warm-up. Some players even have their father’s presence as a jinx and make him leave the court early so he won’t interfere.”
Now do you understand, Jyu Parker, you idiot?
The last line stayed inside his head.
Jiyu tilted her head, still confused. The jinx story was interesting, but it didn’t make sense.
“So what does that have to do with me?”
“I’ve been doing exactly what I did in the last two tournaments I won—same clothes, same shoes. My skills are better than ever. My serve aces have increased. But I still lost in the semifinals.”
Hunter leaned his head to the side and looked at her. Jiyu flinched without realizing it.
“The only difference is you. You didn’t come to my matches. Thinking about it… maybe you are my jinx.”
“That’s impossible. How can that even be?”
“Then let’s prove it!” Hunter pressed, eyes blazing. “If you come and I still lose, you’re not my jinx. If I win after you come, you are. If you keep refusing like this… I’ll tell your mother to invite yours.”
“That’s cheating!”
“Who cares,” Hunter sneered, crossing his arms.
Jiyu glared at him, lips pressed thin. Hunter Hamilton loved to talk nonsense and bulldoze his way through it. If Love had asked, he would have told her to skip Chloe’s birthday and go to his tournament without a second thought.
How do I get out of this?
Jiyu racked her brain. Then the children’s book she had loved as a girl came to mind.
The Kissing Hand!
It was the picture book her mother read when the young raccoon baby felt anxious about leaving for school. Love had never read it to her, but Jiyu had loved it so much she read it again and again.
When the baby raccoon first felt lonely at school, the mother raccoon kissed her palm and said that whenever the child missed her, she could just wrap her hands around her face and feel her love.
On the last page were multiple heart stickers with the word “Kiss” on them. Every time Jiyu forced herself to go on a playdate with Hunter, she stuck one on her palm before leaving home.
An idea suddenly struck her. She looked up.
“Hunter?”
“What?”
The boy who had nearly reached the ceiling of the treehouse answered in a lazy drawl.
“Um… I read something in a famous psychologist’s book. It says you don’t need to be physically together to feel someone’s presence.”
Hunter’s eyes widened, then narrowed.
“That’s just nonsense.”