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his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes tuned to the skyline.
    “They said it was impossible to land an army here inIncheon.” Grandfather’s wrinkles appear deeper in the daylight. “That is why General MacArthur surprised the North Koreans and won the war. He took the impossible and made it possible.”
    Now I know where Dad gets all his sayings. Dad is big on motivational stuff like “The best way to predict your future is to create it,” which he has hanging over his desk.
    “So you think it’s possible for me to go to boarding school?” I ask.
    “Of course. I must first convince your father.”
    “That might be more difficult than you think.”
    He chuckles, his chin coming up as he does. “Jae Hwa, your father and I have disagreements. But my greatest concern is for your safety.”
    My stomach rolls, wondering how he could know about my hallucination. But he couldn’t know. He’s probably thinking about boys. I smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about me, Haraboji.”
    If he only knew. Like when the third-grade class bully, Jacob Cantor, strutted up to me, pulled my long braid, and called me a worthless immi (short for
immigrant
). If he’d been smart, he would’ve picked on some other immi. But unlucky Jacob picked me. I stood and knocked him a blow that sent him tumbling into the trash can. Where he probably felt right at home.
    I say, “I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Besides, Seoul is way safer than L.A.”
    Except for what happened last night,
I think. I rub the back of my head, pushing away that thought.
    “Not for you,” he says.
    I press my lips together and resist rolling my eyes. Here comes the whole girls-need-to-be-protected lecture.
    I’m about to explain to him how I can take care of myself when he motions to a set of smooth rocks to our left and sits on one. I follow, dragging my boots so they make a snakelike trail in the sand behind me. Great. I’ve let myself get lured out here with my lunatic grandfather.
    “In ancient times there was a daughter of the spirit of the river.”
    I’d rather discuss potential boarding school options. “I thought Dad didn’t want you telling me stories,” I say, trying to steer the conversation back on course.
    “Her name was Princess Yuhwa,” he continues, ignoring my comment. “In fact, she was about your age. She had such beauty, anyone who laid eyes on her fell in love with her. One hot day, she and her sisters were bathing in a pond. This was the very day Haemosu, a demigod, decided to pay a visit to the people of the earth and set his mark on the land.”
    Demigod?
I press my chin to my tucked-in knees and stare out at the rounded island just beyond our beach.
    “He saw her and fell instantly in love,” Grandfather says. “Haemosu decided he must have Princess Yuhwa as his wife. But she refused. He gave her a beautiful bracelet gilded of heavenly gold and promised he would change her mind. Four more times he returned, entreating her to come with him to his beautiful land. Yet still the princess refused. This infuriated him, and he decided to marry her against her will.”
    “Why don’t princesses ever
do
something in all these old stories?” I interrupt. “Like try to escape or get someone to help them?”
    “She did tell her father, the water god, Habaek. When hediscovered that Haemosu did not follow the proper marriage ceremony, he fought with Haemosu. Habaek lost. Helpless, the princess was taken away in Haemosu’s chariot, Oryonggeo, driven by five dragons to the Spirit World.”
    I dig the toe of my boot into the sand. “That’s a great story. But if you’re worried about me getting whisked away, you don’t need to. I can take care of myself.” Although a chariot driven by five dragons does sound pretty cool.
    His eyebrows knit as he frowns. “I have not finished.”
    “Oh. Right. Sorry.” It’s then that I notice the tide has pulled back about twenty feet, leaving behind a bank of mud. I sit up.