For fans of The Last Fallen Star , Witchlings , and Ghost Squad , a heartfelt middle grade debut where Korean folklore is all too real and summer camp includes a gwishin haunting. You couldn’t hold onto everything and everyone. You had to choose. And Ronnie only had two hands. Since her mother died when she was five years old, it’s always just been Ronnie Miller and her dad. Two Korean Americans who, thanks to Ronnie’s dad’s adoption by white parents, have never felt all that Korean. But Ronnie is okay with that—as long as she has her dad and her best friend Jack, Ronnie is 99% certain she can get through anything. But as much as she wants everything to stay the same, the world—and her dad—has other plans. Now, Ronnie and Jack are headed away to sleepaway camp for the first time ever. Camp Foster promises all of the outdoorsy activities that Ronnie has so far managed to avoid: ropes courses, scavenger hunts, kayaking on the lake. Ugh. But she can do this. As long as she has Jack. As it turns out, an old manor in the woods is the kind of place that’s crawling with secrets. Secrets like a mysterious gwishin haunting the grounds, a blood-red scarf wrapped too tightly around her ghostly neck. And a witch-hunting dokkaebi intent on finding and silencing the last Rhee witch. And the strange habit all the counselors have of rhyming when they speak . . . just like Ronnie has begun to do lately. For a girl who wants everything to stay the same, nothing is scarier than all the changes Camp Foster brings. New friends. New foes. Souls with unfinished business. And, possibly worst of all, revelations that disprove everything Ronnie knew to be true. Jenna Lee-Yun combines magic, mystery, suspense, and humor into a ghostly action-packed contemporary fantasy. "[A] deftly crafted, page-turning narrative . . . Rich in Korean mythology and suspense; will keep readers guessing." — Kirkus Reviews "A magically engaging book." — Booklist "Readers will enjoy this spooky middle grade mystery featuring an endearing cast of characters." — School Library Journal "Lee-Yun ably balances folklore, realism, and a bit of suspenseful mystery." — Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books "What elevates this supernatural tale is the protagonist's emotional journey." — The Horn Book Magazine Jenna Lee-Yun resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, son, daughter, and mini-goldendoodle. She loves nothing more than writing middle-grade and young adult novels with a large cup of coffee. She reads as much as she can and finds there is never enough time to get ahead of her TBR pile. She is overjoyed to see so much more diversity in children's books. The Last Rhee Witch is her debut novel. Standing in the parking lot at Camp Foster, Ronnie Miller reminded herself that ghosts did not exist. She was ninety-nine percent sure, which was as certain as a person could be. One pecent was set aside for just-in-case and you-never-know. Because there should be a percent likelihood for everything. Even the impossible. Like that gleaming white figure hovering in the treetops . . . a hundred feet in the air . . . with a streak of crimson running down the front. Ronnie was ninety-nine percent certain it was the morning mist messing with her vision. And after staring at nothing but mountains and forests on the long drive to Central Washington, you're bound to start seeing things—eighty-five percent positive. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ronnie gave them a good rub. When she opened them again, there was no white ghost. No red streak. Only gray mist. She sagged with relief. If she started seeing things that weren't there, her dad would worry. And by the look on her dad's face as he stepped out of the SUV, he was already plenty worried. "Are you sure you're up for this?" The crease between his brows deepend as he glanced around the parking lot filling up with other kids and their parents. "I mean, with everything that's going on?" By everything , he meant the way Ronnie had been rhyming when she spoke. It began a few months ago on her twelfth birthday. At first, he thought it was clever. But then he realized she couldn't control it, especially when she was upset. Like when he broke their birthday tradition of cooking their favorite foods together at home. Not only had he insisted on going to a restaurant for Ronnie's birthday this year, he also invited Kristie-with-a-K. Aplparently, she'd been dying to meet Ronnie. Ronnie, on the ohter hand, had never heard of Kristie—with a K or otherwise. At least eighty percent of Ronnie's sentences that night were in rhyme. It must have freaked Kristie out, because Ronnie never saw her again. She could live with that. But it freaked her dad out, too, which troubled ronnie. He worried it had something to do with Ronnie losing her mom at a young age. Or her having a single dad. Or being Korean. Or not being Korean enough because her Korean dad was adopted by white parents. And like any problem