Under the normal circumstances, I probably would have appreciated an evening like this. In Seoul, the lights from the city made it impossible to see many stars, but here, it was just the opposite. Even with the layer of marine haze, I could clearly make our the Milky Way and directly to the south, Venus glowed brightly. The waves crashed and rolled rhythmically along the beach and on the horizon, I could see the faint light of half a dozen shrimp boats.

But the circumstances weren't normal. As I stood on the porch, I glared at the officer, livid beyond belief.

No, change that. I wasn't just livid. I was seething. What had happened was so . . . overprotective, so over the top, I could still barely process it. My first thought was simply to hitchhike to the bus station and buy myself a ticket back to Seoul. I wouldn't tell my dad or my mom; I'd call Jisoo. Once I was there, I would figure out what to do next. No matter what I decided, it couldn't be any worse than this.

But that wasn't possible. Not with Officer Shin here. He stood behind me now, making sure I went inside

I still couldn't believe it. How could my dad—my own flesh-and-blood father—do something like this? I was almost an adult, I hadn't been doing anything wrong, and it wasn't even midnight. What was the problem? Why did he have to turn this into something far bigger than it was? Oh dure, at first Officer Shin had made it sound like it had been an ordinary, run-of-the-mill order to vacate our spot on Bower's Point—something that hadn't surprise the others—but then he'd turned to me. Zeroed in on my specifically.

"Im taking you home," he said, making it sound as if I were eight years old.

"No thanks," I responded.

"Then I'll have to arrest you on vagrancy charges, and have your dad bring you home."

It dawned on me the that my dad had asked the police to bring me home, and there was as instant when I was frozen in mortification.

Sure, I'd had problems with my mom, and yeah, she'd blown off my curfew now and then. But never, ever, not even once, had my mother sent the police after me.

On the porch, the officer intruded on my thoughts. "Go on in," he prompted, making it fairly clear that if I didn't open the door, he would.

From inside, I could hear the soft sounds of the piano, and I recognized the sonata by Edvard Grieg in E minor. I took a deep breath before opening the door, then slammed it shut behind me.

My father stopped playing and looked up as I glared at him.

"You sent the cops after me?"

My dad said nothing, but his silence was enough.

"Why would you do something like that?" I demanded. "How could you do something like that?"

He said nothing.

"What is it? You didn't want me to have fun? You didn't trust me? You didn't get the fact that I don't want to be here?"

My father folded his hands in his lap. "I know you don't want to be here . . . "

I took a step forward, still glaring. "So you decide you want to ruin my life, too?"

"Who's Minggyu?"

"Who cares!" I shouted. "That's not the point! You're bot going to monitor every single person I ever talk to, so don't even try!"

"I'm not trying—"

"I hate being here! Don't you get that? And I hate you, too!"

I stared at him, my face daring him to contradict me. Hoping he'd try, so I'd be able to say it again.

But my dad said nothing, as usual. I hated that kind of weakness. In a fury, I crossed the room toward the alcove, grabbed the picture of me playing the piano—the one with my dad beside me on the bench—and hurled it across the room. Though he flinched at the sound of breaking glass, he remained quiet.

"What? Nothing to say?"

He cleared his throat. "Your bedroom's the first door on the right."

I didn't even want to dignify  his comment with a response, so I stormed down the hall, determined to have nothing more to do with him.

"Good night, sweetheart," he called out. "I love you."

There was a moment, just a moment, when I cringed at what I'd said to him; but my regret vanished as quickly as it had come. It was as if he hadn't even realized I'd been angry: I heard him begin to play the piano again, picking up exactly where he'd left off.

In the bedroom—not hard to find, considering there were only three doors off the hallway, one to the bathroom and the other to dad's room—I flipped on the light. With a frustrated sigh, I peeled off the ridiculous Nemo T-shirt I'd almost forgotten I was wearing.

It had been the worst day of my life.

I knew I was being melodramatic about the whole thing. I wasn't stupid. Still, it hadn't been a great one. About the only good thing to come out of the whole day was meeting Mijoo, which gave me hope that I'd have at least one person to spend time with this summer.

Assuming, of course, that Mijoo still wanted to spend time with me. After Dad's little stunt, even that was in doubt. Mijoo and the rest of them were probably talking about it. Probably laughing about it. It was the kind of thing Jisoo would bring up for years.

The whole thing made me sick to my stomach. I tossed the Nemo shirt into the corner—if I never saw it again, it would be too soon—and began slipping my concert shirt.

"Before I get too grossed out, you should know I'm in here."

I jumped at the siund, whirling around to see Bomi  staring at me.

"Get out!" I screamed. "What are you doing in here? This is my room!"

"No, it's our room," Bomin said. He pointed. "See? Two beds."

"I'm not going to share a room with you!"

He tilted his head to the side. "You're going to sleep in Dad's room?"

I opened my mouth to respond, considered moving to the living room before quickly realizing I wasn't going out there again, then closed my mouth without a word. I stomped toward my suitcase, ped the top and flung open, searching for my pajamas.

"I rode the ferris wheel," Bomin said. "It was pretty cool to be so high. That's how Dad found you."

"Great."

"It was awesome. Did you ride it?"

"No."

"You should have. I could see all the way to