Seoul Spankings Read Online Free

Miss Cha, wondering when I had entered a fairy tale and ascended the dais of royalty. Would twelve mice-turned-into-horses pull my carriage to the ball? And when would the spell wear off? I’m a princess , I thought in awe. Then I laughed. A princess lured by the evil, haughty Korean witch. Maybe she’ll eat me .
    Miss Cha gave me a glance of alarm. Maybe she feared my insanity. Maybe she should.
    “Why doesn’t she like me?” It was not the question I’d meant to ask, but it would have to do. For now.
    Miss Cha looked flustered. “It will be fine.” She tried to placate me, but I didn’t buy it.
    “I can’t learn Korean overnight, so what does she expect from me?”
    Miss Cha fussed with the label on my dress. Already I thought of it as mine, when I should have known better. “Don’t worry.”
    “Please. I don’t want another disaster. What if she tears into me again?”
    “Tears into?” She puzzled at the words. “Tear is for paper, yes?”
    Right. English was not Miss Cha’s first language. How could I have not realized that sooner? It probably wasn’t her second, either, considering her earlier phone conversations in what sounded like Japanese.
    “How many languages do you speak?”
    I meant it as genuine curiosity, but her cheeks colored. “My English is not enough. I never studied abroad. I speak only a little English, Japanese, Chinese, Russian, and French.”
    I gaped at her. “What about your boss?”
    Miss Cha waved a hand. “More than I. She has to speak the native languages of her most important clients. We are global world now, yes?”
    I’d called Hyunkyung arrogant, but had I acted any better? I’d come to a foreign country, to people who spoke my language, and I’d criticized Hyunkyung for expecting the same courtesy in her own land. This wasn’t America, after all. Maybe this was why people called us ugly Americans.
    “It’s okay. Could you teach me how to say the greeting again?” Miss Cha pushed me toward the bathroom, but I held my ground. “Please.”
    She set the dress, shoes, and jewelry on the bed and faced me. She exaggerated her facial movements, giving me time to see each sound one at a time. “An.”
    “On,” I parroted. On, not off. I could do this.
    “Nyeong.”
    Syllable two, and already I was the dunce of a class of one. “Nee-yuh.”
    “Nyeong,” she said, articulating the strange collision of consonants. “Nuh-yeong.”
    “Young!” I exclaimed in relief. Young, not old. “On. Young.”
    Miss Cha smiled. I must have sounded like a one-year-old to her, but she praised me. “Very good. Ha.”
    “On. Young. Ha.” Another easy one. Ha ha ha, ho ho ho. Santa’s coming to town.
    “Say.”
    “Say.” Oh, say can you see? I had this. Ha-say, like José but with a ha. “On Young Ha Say.”
    “Yo.” Miss Cha waited, knowing this one was simple even for a clueless, monolingual American.
    Yo-yo, a child’s toy. Or the famous cellist. I’d moved from the class dunce to its ace. No dumb American left behind. “Yo.”
    “Annyeong haseyo.”
    I stumbled to remember each sound in the correct order. “On-young. Ho-say-yo.” I paused. Not José Canseco, the baseball player, but Santa plus “The Star-Spangled banner.” “Ha-say. Onyoung hasay.” That wasn’t right, either. “Yo. Say-yo.” Five syllables, and I might have run a marathon.
    “Perfect!” Miss Cha beamed. “Annyeong haseyo.” The words slipped from her mouth like water drops sprinkling from a fountain.
    It was only a few silly words. It wouldn’t make the snooty ice princess change her mind about the newest job opening, but it was worth a start.
    Besides, what would I say to Great-Aunt Matilda if I didn’t give this visit my best effort?
    “On Young Ha Say Yo,” I repeated as Miss Cha excused herself and Miss Lee entered to cleanse my face, dress me, and arrange my hair and makeup. There wasn’t enough time for the hairdresser or makeup artist, she told me, so she would do the