close enough to retrieve, but the boys did not have time to chase those that flew far away. So Kee-sup made sure always to have another kite on hand.
During practice that day Young-sup had twice been able to cut the line of Kee-sup's kite. But after the second time he reeled in, shaking his head.
"What's the matter?" Kee-sup demanded. "That last cut was pretty good."
"The problem is that your kite just sits there, waiting for me to make the right move. That's not what's going to happen at the competition. They'll be trying to cut my line as hard as I'm trying to cut theirs."
"I haven't been just sitting there," Kee-sup protested. "I'm doing my best to try to dodge you."
"I know, I know," Young-sup replied hastily. "I didn't meanâI mean, this practice has been really helpful. But I wish I had some way of being certain that I will be the first to cut the line."
***
After a day of study and practice both boys were exhausted. They could barely keep their eyes open as they rolled out their sleeping mats. That evening Young-sup was feeling especially sluggish. As he spread his blankets out, he felt a sharp prick on his hand.
"
Ail
" he gasped, and examined his hand at once. It was bleeding from the tiniest of cuts.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I was just spreading my blankets on the floor when something cut me. It's fine nowâit's not even bleeding anymore."
"Yes, but what was it? You'd better find it so neither of us gets cut again."
The boys moved Young-sup's mat and blankets to one side and carefully inspected the tile floor. They saw nothing, so Kee-sup fetched the lantern that hung by the door and held it down low.
Here and there a nearly invisible point caught the light and shone.
Young-sup cautiously touched his fingertip to one such point and looked at it closely.
"What is it?"
"I think it might be a tiny bit of pottery or something," said Young-sup. "Oh, I know." He looked up sheepishly. "That day I threw the jarâremember? You swept it up for me, but you must have missed these tiny pieces. I'll fetch a damp clothâthe broom would probably just miss them again."
Once the floor had been wiped and dried, the boys crawled wearily into bed. Just as Young-sup was dropping off to sleep, he heard Kee-sup's voice.
"Brother?"
"What?"
"That tiny piece of pottery. It actually cut you?"
"Yesâso what? I want to go to sleep."
Kee-sup sounded half-asleep himself as he answered. "Just an idea I have. I'll tell you ... some other time..."
***
When Young-sup awoke, his brother's sleeping mat was still on the floor, but there was no sign of Kee-sup anywhere. Young-sup got up, folded their blankets, and rolled up both mats. As he was putting them away in the low cupboard, the door slid open and Kee-sup stepped inside. He was carrying something.
"Where have you been? And why aren't you wearing your good clothes?" It was the first day of the New Year celebration, and they were to be dressed in their best.
"I forgot," Kee-sup confessed. He put some pieces of broken pottery down on the cupboard and began to change.
"What are those for?" Young-sup nodded at the odd bits of pottery. Some were from the jar he had thrown, others he didn't recognize, perhaps from a pot or bowl that had been broken in the kitchen.
"Just wait. I'll show you later." And for the moment Kee-sup would say nothing more.
***
That morning, as the brothers and their father were finishing breakfast, they heard pounding at the gate. Hwang rushed to open it. The boys' uncle and his family had arrived from the city of Inchon, which lay to the west on the Yellow Sea.
It was the only time of year when the two families were united, for the road from Inchon, where their father's brother worked as a fisherman, was long and difficult. Uncle's family was large: three boys and three girls, all younger than Young-sup. The littlest was only a baby, and some of the younger ones were shy and bewildered, clinging closely to their
During practice that day Young-sup had twice been able to cut the line of Kee-sup's kite. But after the second time he reeled in, shaking his head.
"What's the matter?" Kee-sup demanded. "That last cut was pretty good."
"The problem is that your kite just sits there, waiting for me to make the right move. That's not what's going to happen at the competition. They'll be trying to cut my line as hard as I'm trying to cut theirs."
"I haven't been just sitting there," Kee-sup protested. "I'm doing my best to try to dodge you."
"I know, I know," Young-sup replied hastily. "I didn't meanâI mean, this practice has been really helpful. But I wish I had some way of being certain that I will be the first to cut the line."
***
After a day of study and practice both boys were exhausted. They could barely keep their eyes open as they rolled out their sleeping mats. That evening Young-sup was feeling especially sluggish. As he spread his blankets out, he felt a sharp prick on his hand.
"
Ail
" he gasped, and examined his hand at once. It was bleeding from the tiniest of cuts.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I was just spreading my blankets on the floor when something cut me. It's fine nowâit's not even bleeding anymore."
"Yes, but what was it? You'd better find it so neither of us gets cut again."
The boys moved Young-sup's mat and blankets to one side and carefully inspected the tile floor. They saw nothing, so Kee-sup fetched the lantern that hung by the door and held it down low.
Here and there a nearly invisible point caught the light and shone.
Young-sup cautiously touched his fingertip to one such point and looked at it closely.
"What is it?"
"I think it might be a tiny bit of pottery or something," said Young-sup. "Oh, I know." He looked up sheepishly. "That day I threw the jarâremember? You swept it up for me, but you must have missed these tiny pieces. I'll fetch a damp clothâthe broom would probably just miss them again."
Once the floor had been wiped and dried, the boys crawled wearily into bed. Just as Young-sup was dropping off to sleep, he heard Kee-sup's voice.
"Brother?"
"What?"
"That tiny piece of pottery. It actually cut you?"
"Yesâso what? I want to go to sleep."
Kee-sup sounded half-asleep himself as he answered. "Just an idea I have. I'll tell you ... some other time..."
***
When Young-sup awoke, his brother's sleeping mat was still on the floor, but there was no sign of Kee-sup anywhere. Young-sup got up, folded their blankets, and rolled up both mats. As he was putting them away in the low cupboard, the door slid open and Kee-sup stepped inside. He was carrying something.
"Where have you been? And why aren't you wearing your good clothes?" It was the first day of the New Year celebration, and they were to be dressed in their best.
"I forgot," Kee-sup confessed. He put some pieces of broken pottery down on the cupboard and began to change.
"What are those for?" Young-sup nodded at the odd bits of pottery. Some were from the jar he had thrown, others he didn't recognize, perhaps from a pot or bowl that had been broken in the kitchen.
"Just wait. I'll show you later." And for the moment Kee-sup would say nothing more.
***
That morning, as the brothers and their father were finishing breakfast, they heard pounding at the gate. Hwang rushed to open it. The boys' uncle and his family had arrived from the city of Inchon, which lay to the west on the Yellow Sea.
It was the only time of year when the two families were united, for the road from Inchon, where their father's brother worked as a fisherman, was long and difficult. Uncle's family was large: three boys and three girls, all younger than Young-sup. The littlest was only a baby, and some of the younger ones were shy and bewildered, clinging closely to their
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