One of my fondest memories growing up was visiting the local library every week with my appa. I would come out the doors with books stacked up to my chin, grin on, my fingers itching to explore the pages as soon as I got home. We couldn’t afford to buy books then—my immigrant parents were already working three jobs each just to put food on the table—but our weekly trips to the library made me feel like the wealthiest girl in the world. All those worlds, all those lives, all that magic, right there at my fingertips…

Three decades later, not much has changed as far as my thirst for books go. Words are still everything. Except at some point, I realized something was missing. In all the books I read and treasured as a child, I never saw myself. The message was clear: People like me didn’t belong in books—and nobody wanted to read our stories.

The thought festered, making me increasingly frustrated. But why not? I asked myself. We have so much to share with the world! So, I woke up one day and decided I was going to be part of the change. I would write the books younger-me would have wanted to read. And now here you are, reading my book. Whoa! Yay! Is this a dream? (Please don’t wake me if it is….)

Books aren’t written by merely one person, though, despite what the name on the cover might suggest. They are intricate patchworks made by many talented, passionate, and generous people. I am proud to say that The Last Fallen Star is no exception.

First and foremost, I have to give a huge shout-out to my agent and secret long-lost doppelgänger, Carrie Pestritto. Thank you for being my biggest advocate. You believed in my words even before I did, and for that I will eternally be grateful.

My deepest gratitude to my editors, Hannah Allaman, Stephanie Lurie, and Rick Riordan. Hannah, the day you shared your vision for my book, I swear the clouds parted and a rainbow appeared in the sky. Steph, having you to guide me to the finish line was like having my own Haetae by my side. You are both #braingoals and I am in awe of you. Rick, I’m still pinching myself that I get to be part of your RRP family. As Emmett would say, holy shirtballs—what an incredible honor! Thank you to all three of you for taking a chance on me.

To my publisher, Emily Meehan; Guy Cunningham and his copyediting staff; creative director Joann Hill; cover artist Vivienne To; Marybeth Tregarthen and her production group; Seale Ballenger, and the marketing, publicity, and sales teams; and all those who worked tirelessly in the background: Thank you so much for helping me bring Riley and the gifted clans to the world. Maybe we should summon Mago Halmi and ask her to create a seventh Disney clan?

A special thank-you to Beth Phelan and #DVpit for giving marginalized writers like me a platform to be seen; and to Alexa Donne, my mentor Rebecca Barrow, and AMM for being the first real edge-piece to my writing journey. Becky, I still have nightmares about that roundabout in Swindon….

To all the AMM R3 alumni, thank you for being my first writing community. A shout-out particularly to the #WritersFightClub and my amazing CPs who wouldn’t let me give up: Julie, Sarah, Tara, Chelsea, Jordan, Laura, Susan, Emily, Kathy, Leanne, Heidi, Erika, Carolyn, and Louisa, I heart you all. We’ve got this!

To all the talented humans in the #yaysquad for your friendship and wonderfully wacky profile pics, especially Adelle, Ana, Anna, J.Elle, Moniza, Naz, Robin, Sonora, and Taj. Thinking of you guys makes me hungry. Is that weird? Also, Jess, my publishing twin, you are all around #goals. Can you please teach me how to life?

All the beautiful souls I met at the Madcamp BIPOC Retreat, I miss you! Natalie, Tess, Justina, thank you for organizing what was a dream-affirming experience for me. Zoraida, Labyrinth Lost was my muse for the virgin draft of this book—I am indebted to you forever. To my cabinmates, Yas, Elise, Susan, Christina, Yamile, Tracy, and Kyndal, my belly still hurts thinking about our late-night laughs. Can we do it again? And Tracy, OMG, you called it!

To all my Kiwi writing wha¯nau, especially Claire Donnelly for being the first person who got it and reminded me I wasn’t alone; my Meetup group for our Saturday morning sessions at Catalina Cafe; Tim Owen and the North Shore writers; and Amy Martin and Teresa Herleth for their support and encouragement.

I can’t forget about my Welly Wonkadoodles: Mel, Vivienne, Emma, and my Pitchwars co-mentor, Karah. It’s mind-boggling how four such exceptional creators and humans got to be in one tiny city together. Lucky me! I can’t wait to eat with you all again. And sorry not sorry about the group name—I take full responsibility.

To my SCBWI critique group: Jen, Kerstin, Lynley, and Catherine, for all the tireless hours you put into helping me improve my craft. To David Hill for the manuscript assessment and encouraging words. To my writer friends in the MGicalMisfits, DiverseInk, The21ders, and the Class of 2K21. To Swati, June, and Naz for your precious feedback in the latter stages. And to everyone else that has been part of my wordy community, I am so grateful for you.

I would be remiss to not mention the first-ever teen and tweens who were forced to read my words when I was still in training wheels. Sian Allen, Nikka Caraig, Hannah Jones, you are angels for being so constructive and supportive.

To the soulful Giulia Mazzola, and my half-orange BFF, Jamie Vulinovich, for reading some of my earliest attempts at writing and not telling me I sucked. I hope all people in the world know the joy of having friends like you. So many hugs and kisses xx.

And of course, my dearest Kimchingoos: Sarah, Jess, Grace, and Susan. I actually don’t know where I’d be without our snug little family pod. We have so many in-jokes I can’t remember half of them, but for the record, I raise my glass to our buddy Mack Gully. Hope you enjoyed the inmyeonjo-taming scene…:)

Speaking of family, my love to the ever-growing Cribbens clan—especially Mum and Dad Cribbens—for always showing such interest in my writing, even if my response was always a variation of “I’m getting there…” or “Not quite yet…”

To my sisters, Ally and Joya, for being the inspiration behind Riley and Hattie’s unbreakable sisterhood. Growing up with you two was the best childhood I could have asked for. Thank you for being my best friends, and for being co-sufferers of the leaky-bladder eyeball syndrome. No, I’m not crying, you are….

Eomma and Appa, there are no words that can even begin to describe the gratitude I feel for the sacrifices you made for me. You are my biggest heroes, and I count my lucky (fallen?) stars that I get to be your daughter. I strive to do you proud in all that I do, each and every day. Saranghaeyo. Oh, and look! It’s our name on the cover!

And, of course, to my Spudman: my baby daddy, my hippocampus, my person. Thank you for reading every single draft, for being my biggest cheerleader, for the (many) late-night brainstorming sessions, and for your eternal well of patience. You are my home and my paradise, and I genuinely don’t know how I got so lucky. If I had a chest full of time-reversing Haetae marbles, I would re-choose my life with you. Every. Single. Time.

Last but not least, my biggest shout-out to you, dear reader. To all the adoptees, the diaspora kids, the misfits. To anyone who’s ever felt invisible, or felt like they don’t belong. Real magic lives inside all of us—in the choices we make every single day. This book is for you.