Read Online The Summer I Saved the World ... in 65 Days by Michele Weber Hurwitz - Free Book Online

a
kumiho
tricks a man into marriage. Or they lurk in the forest, eating men’s livers.
    Nice. I hope that isn’t a bedtime story for kids in Korea.
    Nowhere, however, does it say that a
kumiho
has the power to turn on a light in a vacant house.

I n art the next day, we finish our abstract clay pieces so they can get fired. Abstract is good; no one has to guess what mine is. Then we have to find a partner. Which is an awful thing that teachers do. Are they unable to see how this goes? The people who know each other pair up in a second (Amber and Chase, the two girls I knew in junior high), and then there are random floaters avoiding each other.
    I’m a floater.
    Swallow. Look around. Brief moment of panic. Then, relief. Sariah and I make eye contact. Which is helpful,because the assignment is to draw each other’s eye. Hers are dark brown and make me think of a chocolate fountain. I’m glad to see that she has normal piercings, just on her earlobes.
    Sariah and I face each other, desk to desk, holding our sketchpads. In less than ten minutes, she has drawn my eye in complete detail, including the lid and lashes.
    â€œHow’d you do that so fast?” I ask. I’m still on the outline. Sariah doesn’t even have a pupil yet.
    She shrugs.
    â€œYou’re good,” I say.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œThat’s really what my eye looks like?”
    She nods, still filling in the sketch.
    She’s drawn an eye that’s almond-shaped and lazy, with long lashes and little flecks where the green is. Maybe there is something about me that is actually sort of beautiful.
    Time for the break. I start cleaning up my supplies. One of my pencils rolls off the desk and across the floor, like it’s running away. A boot stops it. Chase picks it up, holds it out.
    There’s this odd second when we look at each other and he’s holding one end of the pencil and I’m holding the other.
    I tuck the pencil into my bag. “Thanks.”
    Chase smiles. He has a chipped front tooth. “
De nada
.”
    Small thing. But big, too.
    Today, Sariah and I sit on the risers in the commons.
    I feel very short. “How tall are you?”
    She smiles down with a mouth full of silver braces. “Five eight.”
    Jorie hasn’t noticed I’m not there. A guy with long plaid shorts grabs her water bottle and throws it to another guy. She tries to get it (jumping high so her shirt goes up and her bare tan stomach shows), but they’re tossing it around. She sits down and crosses her arms and pretends to pout; then the plaid guy brings it to her. Pouting works, at least for Jorie. He kneels in front of her, like he’s asking for forgiveness. I can hear her laugh all the way over here as she ruffles his hair.
    Wait. What about Eli? Why is she flirting with that guy? I don’t get her sometimes.
    â€œSo, anyway,” I say, and turn to Sariah. She’s unwrapping a cookie and taking miniature bites around the edges.
    I find out she went to a different junior high. She dances. Giggles a lot. She collects frogs, little glass and plastic and metal figurines. “I have a hundred and two,” she says.
    â€œWow. That’s a lot of frogs.”
    â€œUh-huh. I have two whole frog shelves in my room.” She brushes cookie crumbs from her fingers. “Did you know frogs don’t drink water but they absorb it through their skin?”
    â€œI didn’t know that.” I laugh and sort of poke her. “This is getting weird.”
    But she’s completely serious. “Frogs are fascinating. Some scientists think frog juice can cure diseases.”
    I raise my eyebrows. “Frog juice?”
    She nods. “Chemicals in their skin. People might be able to make medicines from them.”
    Okay then.
    â€œDid you know there are thousands of species of frogs in the world?”
    â€œUm, no.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jorie sitting on plaid