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.Grandfather shakes me, and I focus back on him.His eyebrows are knit together and a vein is popping up on his forehead.“Something is going on that you are not telling me.” He lets go of my shoulders.“We are on the brink of something huge, Jae Hwa.For Korea.For the world.And you are in the dead center of it.I hope you know what you are doing.”“I don’t.”“Good,” he says.I stare at him incredulously.He lets out a long breath and rubs his chest, saying, “A wise person knows their weaknesses.”“Bari thinks I’m becoming immortal.”“But you are not yet.” He steers me forward.“Remember, the future is in your hands.”I want to believe Haraboji, but Bari is right.I don’t understand what’s happening, and I definitely don’t like this idea that my fate is already determined.We find Dad in the lobby, sitting on a bench by the tall glass windows.His body is folded over, hands clasped in front of him.“Dad!” I run to him.He lifts his head at my voice and stands, holding his arms out to me.Tears are streaming down his red face.“She was younger than me,” Dad says.“Too young.”I nod against his chest as pain slices through me.All this time we were hoping she could be saved.Grandfather comes toward us and rests his hands on Dad’s shoulders.We stand that way, silent and still, remembering her.I lift my head, wiping away my tears and sniffing.“She’s in a better place now,” I say.“She’s happy.”Dad shakes his head, not really believing me, but Grandfather’s watery eyes focus on mine.I can’t tell if he thinks I’m just saying that or if he suspects something.But right now I don’t care.All I care about is that we are there together.“She helped me understand how important family is,” I say.“And that there are ways around impossible situations.She’d want us to stay close and depend on each other.”Both Grandfather and Dad nod.For the first time I can remember, we all agree.Sunlight creeps through my windows.I rub my eyes and jerk up, panic pounding at my temples.I study my room, inspecting every detail.The sounds and smells from the city waft in through my open window—kimchi mixed with honking taxis.My English essay lies scattered across my floor, strewn about by the wind.Clothes litter my dresser and pile up around the floor of my wardrobe.My wall bears the dents and scars of too many punches and arrow nicks.Tossing aside my blanket, I stand on my yo, curling my toes into the mat.My hands prep, my knees bend.I never sleep with an open window.Not since my dokkaebi encounter.Something was here.I know it.Feel it.Then I remember the orb.I grope for it, digging under my tee until my fingers wrap around the stone’s warm surface.Letting go a sigh of relief, I sink back onto my yo.The orb radiates in my palm, glittering brighter than snow.Its heat soothes my nerves, but I quickly let it go.Between Grandfather’s warnings not to touch it and the effect it had on me in the restaurant, I don’t trust it.After I give the room a quick check to make sure no one is there, I shrug into a pair of khakis and a T-shirt.My phone reads 7:30 a.m.Then I notice a text from Marc that he sent around five thirty this morning.Hey Fighter Girl! See u at school.I want my last day 2 b normal.Then another text at 7:25 a.m.Whatever happens, remember I love you.That one must have been what woke me up.I text back: I love u 2.There’s no way I’ll make it to school on time.I scramble about on my hands and knees picking up my English papers and stuff them into my backpack, hoping I’ve collected them all.I shut the window, slamming it with a definite thud.Once the lock slides into place, I stand still, trying to remember everything I did last night.No matter how hard I think, I can’t for the life of me remember opening the window.After I sling my backpack over my shoulder, that unsettled sensation nips at me.I wish I could figure out what is bothering me, but everything appears to be its usual disaster.I turn to leave, when my eye catches the poster I’d made listing ways to stop Kud.My heart stops for a beat and then takes off racing.I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it right away.Probably because I’d been looking for a creature, not words.But they’re there, in big bold Chinese characters.The victory is mine.The words I’d written on the poster, WAYS TO STOP KUD, have been slashed out with a black marker.Damn it.He was here.I tighten my grip on my backpack, imagining him watching me while I slept.My eye finds my bow resting against the wall.If only there was a way to take it to school without being sent straight to the principal’s office.I can totally imagine Dr.Baker’s expression if I were to get caught.I drag my fingers along the bow’s smooth surface and then tuck it into the bottom of my wardrobe.There’s no way I’m going to risk it getting confiscated, even if I’d feel better armed.“Wow.Don’t you look high-class,” I tell Michelle between first and second period.“I must have missed the memo.” She’s wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt.She applies a swipe of lipstick and smacks her lips once before she slams the locker closed.“There’s no way I’m getting in front of the school body looking like a hobo.”“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a hobo,” I laugh.“If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed you were presenting for a Fortune 500 company, not our high school student body.” I glance down at my ankle-high boots, casual tan pants, and turquoise crewneck shirt.“Me, on the other hand? Definitely hobo material.”“Don’t be silly.You’re like Lara Croft meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”“Thanks,” I say.“I think.By the way, have you seen Marc? This morning he texted me saying he’d see me later, but he hasn’t responded to any of my texts since [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Grandfather shakes me, and I focus back on him.His eyebrows are knit together and a vein is popping up on his forehead.“Something is going on that you are not telling me.” He lets go of my shoulders.“We are on the brink of something huge, Jae Hwa.For Korea.For the world.And you are in the dead center of it.I hope you know what you are doing.”“I don’t.”“Good,” he says.I stare at him incredulously.He lets out a long breath and rubs his chest, saying, “A wise person knows their weaknesses.”“Bari thinks I’m becoming immortal.”“But you are not yet.” He steers me forward.“Remember, the future is in your hands.”I want to believe Haraboji, but Bari is right.I don’t understand what’s happening, and I definitely don’t like this idea that my fate is already determined.We find Dad in the lobby, sitting on a bench by the tall glass windows.His body is folded over, hands clasped in front of him.“Dad!” I run to him.He lifts his head at my voice and stands, holding his arms out to me.Tears are streaming down his red face.“She was younger than me,” Dad says.“Too young.”I nod against his chest as pain slices through me.All this time we were hoping she could be saved.Grandfather comes toward us and rests his hands on Dad’s shoulders.We stand that way, silent and still, remembering her.I lift my head, wiping away my tears and sniffing.“She’s in a better place now,” I say.“She’s happy.”Dad shakes his head, not really believing me, but Grandfather’s watery eyes focus on mine.I can’t tell if he thinks I’m just saying that or if he suspects something.But right now I don’t care.All I care about is that we are there together.“She helped me understand how important family is,” I say.“And that there are ways around impossible situations.She’d want us to stay close and depend on each other.”Both Grandfather and Dad nod.For the first time I can remember, we all agree.Sunlight creeps through my windows.I rub my eyes and jerk up, panic pounding at my temples.I study my room, inspecting every detail.The sounds and smells from the city waft in through my open window—kimchi mixed with honking taxis.My English essay lies scattered across my floor, strewn about by the wind.Clothes litter my dresser and pile up around the floor of my wardrobe.My wall bears the dents and scars of too many punches and arrow nicks.Tossing aside my blanket, I stand on my yo, curling my toes into the mat.My hands prep, my knees bend.I never sleep with an open window.Not since my dokkaebi encounter.Something was here.I know it.Feel it.Then I remember the orb.I grope for it, digging under my tee until my fingers wrap around the stone’s warm surface.Letting go a sigh of relief, I sink back onto my yo.The orb radiates in my palm, glittering brighter than snow.Its heat soothes my nerves, but I quickly let it go.Between Grandfather’s warnings not to touch it and the effect it had on me in the restaurant, I don’t trust it.After I give the room a quick check to make sure no one is there, I shrug into a pair of khakis and a T-shirt.My phone reads 7:30 a.m.Then I notice a text from Marc that he sent around five thirty this morning.Hey Fighter Girl! See u at school.I want my last day 2 b normal.Then another text at 7:25 a.m.Whatever happens, remember I love you.That one must have been what woke me up.I text back: I love u 2.There’s no way I’ll make it to school on time.I scramble about on my hands and knees picking up my English papers and stuff them into my backpack, hoping I’ve collected them all.I shut the window, slamming it with a definite thud.Once the lock slides into place, I stand still, trying to remember everything I did last night.No matter how hard I think, I can’t for the life of me remember opening the window.After I sling my backpack over my shoulder, that unsettled sensation nips at me.I wish I could figure out what is bothering me, but everything appears to be its usual disaster.I turn to leave, when my eye catches the poster I’d made listing ways to stop Kud.My heart stops for a beat and then takes off racing.I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it right away.Probably because I’d been looking for a creature, not words.But they’re there, in big bold Chinese characters.The victory is mine.The words I’d written on the poster, WAYS TO STOP KUD, have been slashed out with a black marker.Damn it.He was here.I tighten my grip on my backpack, imagining him watching me while I slept.My eye finds my bow resting against the wall.If only there was a way to take it to school without being sent straight to the principal’s office.I can totally imagine Dr.Baker’s expression if I were to get caught.I drag my fingers along the bow’s smooth surface and then tuck it into the bottom of my wardrobe.There’s no way I’m going to risk it getting confiscated, even if I’d feel better armed.“Wow.Don’t you look high-class,” I tell Michelle between first and second period.“I must have missed the memo.” She’s wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt.She applies a swipe of lipstick and smacks her lips once before she slams the locker closed.“There’s no way I’m getting in front of the school body looking like a hobo.”“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a hobo,” I laugh.“If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed you were presenting for a Fortune 500 company, not our high school student body.” I glance down at my ankle-high boots, casual tan pants, and turquoise crewneck shirt.“Me, on the other hand? Definitely hobo material.”“Don’t be silly.You’re like Lara Croft meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”“Thanks,” I say.“I think.By the way, have you seen Marc? This morning he texted me saying he’d see me later, but he hasn’t responded to any of my texts since [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]