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Sesame and brown sugar have been tucked inside. These are the best rice cakes I’ve ever tasted.
    “How do you like Korea?” Grandfather asks me.
    “It’s okay, I guess,” I say, studying the tea leaves in my cup. “But I miss my friends back home.”
    “I am sure you miss your American education,” he says.
    My head jerks up, and I search his face. He looks dead serious.
    “She attends an international school,” Dad says. “They have the same American education as any top school in the States.”
    Grandfather nods while crossing his arms. “Do you not think boarding school in America would be more appropriate for Jae Hwa? Many families send their children to boarding schools. Taking her away from her homeland must be difficult.”
    I nearly drop my teacup. “There are boarding schools in L.A.”
    “Is that so?” Grandfather asks.
    Boarding school! Why hadn’t I thought of that? Maybe Grandfather’s antagonism might work for my good.
    “It’s out of the question.” Dad’s scowl is firmly back in place. “Jae needs more time to adjust. Besides, she’s far too young to be off by herself.”
    “Jae seems quite mature,” Grandfather says. “I would be pleased to contribute any funds needed for such an enterprise.”
    “No,” Dad says flatly.
    “It is merely a thought. I do not see why you keep resisting my generosity.” Grandfather’s eyes are tight with anger. Or is it worry?
    “I love your painting of that tiger,” I say, deciding to switch the topic. “It almost looks alive.”
    “Ah yes, the Tiger of Shinshi,” Grandfather says. “You remember the legends, yes?”
    I reach for another
tteok
. “Something about him protecting the Korean people throughout time?”
    “Excellent memory!” Grandfather beams. “It is he who watches over the Golden Thread that binds our people as one.”
    “Speaking of time, when are the others supposed to arrive?” Dad’s still on edge.
    “I commissioned an esteemed Korean-American painter to create the mural,” Grandfather says, ignoring Dad’s comment. I can’t blame Dad, though. It’s strange no one else from our family has arrived yet. “It serves as a continual reminder of my duties here on Earth.”
    Yep. He’s completely
michutda
.
    “Jae Hwa, would you care to take a stroll with me on the beach?” Grandfather asks.
    My hand freezes while I’m reaching for my teacup. He wants to take
me
for a walk? The granddaughter he’s so ashamed of that he’s thinking of ways to get me out of the country? Or have I somehow exaggerated how he feels about me? Mom had always said I go overboard sometimes. Still, this could turn into an opportunity—like boarding school.
    The servant hurries over and hands me my coat, scarf, and boots. As we step out the back door, Dad calls to Grandfather, his forehead bunching up like it does when he’s worried.
    “Just a walk, Abeoji,” he says. “None of your stories, remember? She doesn’t need nightmares.”
    Nightmares? Two days ago I would’ve glared at Dad for treating me like a five-year-old. But today I start to wonder if Dad isn’t right.

 

    Once outside, I draw in a breath of salt air and gaze down into the dark-indigo ocean, the afternoon sun scattering rays across its surface.
    Mom would’ve wanted to paint this place.
    Crops of rounded hills rise up out of the water. Sluggish waves lap against the black sand like fingers touching a keyboard. It’s such a contrast to the ten-foot waves that crash against the Malibu beaches where my friends and I hung out.
    “These are the tidal flats.” Grandfather swings open a waist-high gate and starts down a set of wooden stairs that lead to the beach. “Soon, very soon, all the water will be gone, leaving only mud.”
    I can’t imagine how that much water could disappear. I hurry after him. The sound of wind and rushing water grows once I hit the dark sand, hard and icy. I scramble to catch up as he strides out to stand at the muddy water’s edge,