When You Trap a Tiger, page 14
Adding me to this mix is like throwing a carrot into a bowl of fruit salad and hoping nobody notices the difference.
I try to act like a regular girl. I try not to go invisible. I try to pretend that everything is fine at home.
But I’m trying so hard that I forget to respond. “Hi,” I mumble after a second, forcing a smile.
Connor and Adam stand around Ricky, with him at the center. Turns out I was right: Ricky is a sticky person.
“Oh, man! How’d you get one of Joe’s cupcakes?” he asks.
I look down at my hand. I forgot I had it, and I hold it out for him to eat.
“You’re the best,” he says as he takes it and bites into it. “These are so good. But I’m still craving pudding.”
Connor, with the glasses, snorts. “Pudding, Ricky? Really? Pudding is gross.”
Ricky shakes his head, offended. “Chocolate pudding is the fourth most delicious food. Everyone knows that.” He looks over at the teenager table. “I’m gonna ask Jensen if she has any pudding cups.”
Adam, of the freckles, shakes his head. “Dude, chill.” He turns to me and his eyes crinkle. He looks familiar, though I’m not sure why. “So, Lily, where are you from?”
My brain goes blank for a second. Then I say, “I’m from across the street.”
For some reason, I feel like that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he gives me half a nod—a quick jerk of his chin. “You mean the house on the hill? With that lady?”
“She’s my grandma.”
Connor’s eyebrows go high. “The crazy witch lady is your grandma?”
I want to tell him, Crazy is not a thinking word. But my mouth feels dry.
Connor keeps talking, “That’s so cool. I heard she, like, does spells and curses people. Did she teach you how? Can you put a curse on someone?”
I look to Ricky, waiting for him to defend Halmoni, to defend me. But he just takes another bite of the cupcake and nods along.
Adam says, “Nah, she doesn’t curse people. She cures them. My mom is convinced Lily’s grandma healed her asthma. But my mom also believes in TV psychics, so who knows.” And I realize why he seems so familiar—I met his mom at the grocery store. They have the same red hair and freckles. She’s one of Halmoni’s friends.
Connor is unconvinced. “I don’t know. The witch lady is scary.”
I lift my fingers to my neck, searching for the pendant—but I drop it quickly. It’s not safe anymore.
“I…” Guilt claws at my stomach. I should defend Halmoni, but all my words have evaporated.
And for a moment, I don’t want to defend her. For a moment, I wish she were a normal grandmother, who makes brownies instead of kimchi. Who knits scarves instead of mixing strange Korean herbs.
Ricky finally speaks, mouth still full. “Guys, Lily’s grandma’s not scary. It’s not her fault she’s like that. She’s sick, so she has hallucinations that make her act that way, like scared of ghosts and tigers and stuff, right, Lily?”
The ground becomes a black hole—a tiger’s mouth, jaws open wide—and I’m falling in, swallowed whole.
He wasn’t supposed to tell.
But that’s not even the worst part.
The worst part is that when I heard Ricky say that, it felt like the sickness is all that Halmoni is. Like the sickness is the reason for how she is.
But Halmoni isn’t like that because she’s sick. She’s like that because she’s Halmoni. Because she’s magic. She’s always been that way.
Now it feels like there’s something wrong with that.
Halmoni buys rice and pine nuts and herbs to cast magic, she feeds spirits, she believes in all the things you cannot see. She lives in a house at the top of a hill, a house covered in vines, with windows that watch like unblinking eyes.
She is a witch, looming over the town, like something out of a fairy tale.
She’s not normal.
I’m not normal.
And I thought Ricky was on my side, but he’s not. He’s horrible, like those horrible other boys, and I was wrong to think we could ever be friends.
I feel like there’s a spotlight on me, and my eyes start to burn. I look at the floor, begging myself not to cry.
Connor looks uncomfortable, eyes darting between Ricky and me. “Pudding!” he blurts. “Ricky, maybe you should ask Jensen for pudding—now.”
“I’ll get it,” I say, grateful for the escape.
I walk away fast. Ricky calls after me, but I need to get away from them. I walk down the hallway, past Jensen and Sam and the other teenagers, past rows of books, into the staff room at the back of the library.
It’s quiet back here, and the silence sounds like relief. The cat poster tells me to hang in there.
I take a deep breath and open the refrigerator to take out a chocolate pudding.
And then I stop.
This is ridiculous. Ricky was mean to me, and I didn’t stand up for Halmoni or myself, and now I’m fetching him a pudding.
That’s pathetic. That’s classic QAG behavior.
But a thought pops into my head—uninvited. It’s not a thought that should belong to me. It’s like it comes from somewhere else entirely. But as I stand there, staring at the pudding, that thought settles in my stomach, thick and heavy as mud.
Before I can second-guess myself, I grab the chocolate pudding, turn myself invisible, and slip out the back door of the staff room, into the rain.
The ground is soft and slimy and, if you think about it, looks a lot like pudding.
I pull the foil lid off the cup, carefully and only slightly, so you couldn’t tell the cup had been opened unless you were looking really hard. Then I dump some of the pudding onto the ground and scoop mud inside.
Halmoni fed Dad mud because he spoke too much without thinking. And if Ricky wants a curse, he’s going to get one. I hold my hands over the pudding cup and focus all my energy onto it, feeling ridiculous but also powerful.
I am not a weak, quiet girl. I will defend my halmoni. I am brave, and I believe.
I stare at the pudding and think, Be nice, Ricky. Think before you speak. Then I add, And get a stomachache. Just for good measure.
My heart screams wildly in my ears, and I half expect to be caught by Jensen or Joe, but nobody else is around. Nobody except—
I look up to see the tiger sitting in front of me, tail dancing in the rain.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, rubbing raindrops from my eyes.
“What, a tiger can’t enjoy the library? It happens to be my favorite place.”
I stare at her. “What do you want?”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and her stripes ripple like waves. “I am merely observing. Just as you observe us in zoos.”
I lower the pudding and let rain run into my mouth as I say, “Halmoni forgot about the pendant and Sam’s white streak today.”
“Was she forgetting or remembering?”
I glare at her, sick of riddles.
“You must reach the end—”
“And then what? And then Halmoni is cured? And then the stories stop being scary? Tell me what happens.”
She doesn’t respond.
“I’m sick of everyone hiding things from me. I’m sick of people acting like I’m not there, or I don’t matter, or I can’t do anything.”
The pudding trembles in my hands. “I’m not an invisible little girl. I’m not a QAG.” I spin around and walk back toward the library door.
“I was wrong about you,” the tiger says.
I stop, but I don’t turn around. The back of my neck prickles.
“It seems you have a tiger side after all.”
I spin to face her, and she sits, watching me as her tail flicks.
For a second, her words almost feel true. I feel fierce and strong. I feel unstoppable, like my teeth could turn to blades and my nails to claws. Like I could stand up for myself and nobody could ignore me.
But I’m not like her, because she’s the villain and I’m the hero. I fix things, whether it’s Ricky’s rudeness or Halmoni’s illness. I make things better, and I don’t trick people, making them wait for the end while bad things happen.
“I’m not a monster,” I tell her. “Leave me alone.”
She tsks, a sharp sound that scrapes against her teeth. “As you wish.”
And then, in a flash, she’s gone. I am alone again, in the rain, with only the pudding cup clutched to my chest.
I shake her out of my head and slip back inside, then lean against the door, heart thudding.
I won’t let her upset me. I won’t second-guess this.
I wring out my hair, shake the droplets off my raincoat, and wipe my face with a paper towel. Then I take another towel to dry the pudding cup, and I smooth out the foil lid. I’m surprised at my handiwork. You can hardly tell I’ve messed with it.
I grab a plastic spoon from one of the drawers and head back to Ricky’s group. With the tiger gone and the chocolate-mud pudding in hand, I feel much better than before.
“You’re all wet!” Ricky announces when I give him the cup and spoon.
Adam frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I just wanted some air,” I say.
Ricky doesn’t hear the tension in my voice.
He trusts me.
He lifts the spoon, peels back the foil without noticing anything.
Too late, I question my decision. Maybe, at least, I shouldn’t have added the stomachache part.
But I don’t stop him. I stand there and watch as he takes a spoonful, lifts it to his lips, and swallows.
That moment stretches into infinity.
Then his nose crinkles. “Something’s wrong with this pudding.”
Adam says, “Don’t eat it if it tastes weird.”
“Wait,” Ricky says. He takes another bite and nods in confirmation. “Yes, the pudding is weird.”
I feel a little dizzy. I need to go, but I can’t leave now without being obvious.
“I think there’s something in it.” Ricky takes another bite and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what—”
Connor grabs it from Ricky’s hands and tastes it for himself. “Weird,” he says. “Weird for sure.”
Adam frowns at the cup. “If you think it’s weird, don’t eat it. The consistency looks off. It could be poop.”
Ricky’s eyes pop. “I ate poop?!”
Across the library, I see Jensen look over at us in confusion, and all the boys start talking about poop at once.
“It was just mud!” I blurt.
They go silent, staring at me. Panicked, I try to go invisible, but they won’t stop staring.
“It was just mud,” I say, quieter now. “Mud isn’t that bad.”
They blink in shock, and Ricky looks at me with a mixture of fear and awe. “You cursed me,” he whispers.
And I can’t deal anymore. I turn and run out of the library, sprinting across the street without looking both ways.
The library door slams behind me and I hear Sam calling my name, but I don’t look back. I don’t stop. I take the steps three at a time as I run up, up, up to the witch’s house.
When I run into Halmoni’s house—panting, wild—Mom’s digging through the kitchen cupboards.
“Have you seen the rice?” she asks without turning around. “I could have sworn we had a big bag of it, but I can’t find it. I need something to settle Halmoni’s stomach—”
Sam bursts through the door behind me, panting, too, her eyes wide. “What did you do? Like, seriously?! You totally embarrassed me!”
“Embarrassed you? Stop making everything about you!”
Mom turns around and fixes her red-rimmed eyes on us. I realize she’s been crying. “All right,” she says. “What’s going on?”
Sam and I answer at the same time.
I say, “Nothing.”
But Sam says, “Lily put mud in that kid’s pudding.”
“Sam!” I hiss as the betrayal whips through me. Sisters keep secrets. Sisters keep each other’s secrets.
Mom waits for more information, but neither of us speaks. “Excuse me?” Mom asks finally.
Sam looks at me and bites her lip. “Sorry, it just came out—” she starts to say, but Mom cuts her off.
“Lily, what is Sam talking about? What kid?”
I glare at Sam, wishing she could suck the words back into her chest and cork them tight.
But they’re out there, and I can’t do anything about it. “Ricky,” I mumble.
Mom pauses. Her face goes pale. “Sam,” she says, her voice far too soft. “Halmoni’s not feeling well. Why don’t you take her some of your nut crackers? Lily and I need a moment alone.”
Sam tries to catch my eye, but I won’t look at her. She grabs her crackers and disappears into Halmoni’s room.
She leaves me with Mom. And Mom is furious.
It’s not like I haven’t seen Angry Mom before, but she’s always angry at Sam. I’m never the problem. It’s never me.
“What were you thinking?” she asks. “What possessed you to do that?”
I don’t answer. Where would I even begin?
“Nope, nope. Never mind. I know exactly where that mud idea came from. Don’t think I don’t realize. Oh my god, how did I fail this badly?”
I hate how everyone is making this about them. I’m the one who did it, and they’re just erasing me. “I saw something wrong, so I did something about it.”
“Okay, Lily, but feeding your friend mud was also very wrong.” Mom blows out a long stream of air. “I know things have been hard. But I’d never expect you to act out like that. This sounds like something Sam would do.”
I want to tell her that maybe her idea of Sam and Lily isn’t quite as clear as she thought. The story has always been that Sam acts out and I’m invisible.
But maybe Sam doesn’t get to claim all the anger in the world. Maybe I don’t want to be invisible.
“Lily, I understand you’re upset. But this isn’t you.”
Only—it is.
I’ve changed. Maybe the star stories really have changed me, or maybe I’ve changed myself. Somehow, that’s both thrilling and terrifying.
Mom rubs her hands over her face. “Ricky’s dad just offered me a job. That’s what I was going to tell you this morning.”
I take a breath. “What?”
“His dad…” She sighs. “We were talking about how I’m looking for work, and he called to offer me an accounting position at Everett Mills. It’s just…it was such a relief to get a job, and—well, that’s not the point.”
I feel bad now. But I didn’t know. It’s not my fault. And Ricky’s dad won’t fire Mom based on something I did.
“Regardless, you have to apologize to that boy. You know that, right?”
California Lily would have nodded and done what she was told. But I don’t just follow orders anymore. Nobody tells me what to do. Not even tigers. “But, Mom, he was being mean about Halmoni! You didn’t hear him. He and his friends called her a witch. They said she was crazy and scary. That was bad. Mud is not that bad.”
Mom pulls me over to the kitchen table to sit with her. Her lips are still a white-tight, thin line. Her face and neck are still flushed. But some of the anger drains from her eyes. “Listen, Lily. I wasn’t there, but I’m sure I know exactly what they were saying. I spent my whole life growing up with that. Halmoni is eccentric and strange, and not everybody understands her individuality.”
I skritch my nails against the table. “Eccentric and strange aren’t bad things.”
She sighs. “I know that. You know that. But other people aren’t always so kind. And it’s hard—especially now. But Halmoni doesn’t need you putting mud in people’s pudding for her. She needs you to be there, to focus on her. And when you do something like this, you’re spending more energy on the people who don’t understand Halmoni than on Halmoni herself.”
In the moment, I felt like I was doing the right thing. I was protecting Halmoni. But now Mom’s making me feel like I did something wrong—like somehow doing that hurt Halmoni.
My stomach twists, as if I’ve eaten my own mud pudding. “Do you ever feel ashamed that she’s your mom?” I whisper. The words come out quickly. My heart beats hard, almost as hard as it did when I talked to the tiger—as if asking a question is just as scary as facing a beast. “Did you ever get embarrassed by her, as a kid?”
“Oh.” Mom goes soft. “Of course I did. I think everyone feels embarrassed by their family sometimes. But the embarrassment was never ever as strong as the pride I felt, because she’s pretty incredible, isn’t she?”
I nod, and then I remember something else Joe said, the first time we met. “Joe—the librarian—he said you and Halmoni were close.” I scratch at the peeling purple paint on the table. “What happened?”
“Nothing bad, Lily. We’re still close now.” Then Mom corrects herself, because we both know that’s a lie. “I still love her.”
She tap-tap-taps her fingers against her knee. “Your halmoni worked a lot when I was little. When we moved here, she took on a lot of odd jobs. She’d find things that people needed help with, and she’d figure out how to do it.
“And I wanted to help her. It’s how we spent time together. I was her little assistant, trailing after her, translating, writing everything in English.”
I can’t imagine Mom following Halmoni around like that. I can’t really imagine her little at all, and I wonder what she used to be like—if she used to be a QAG, too. And if she was, I wonder how she changed that.
Mom says, “Halmoni made it work in a world that was stacked against her, but she was always so busy. She was a single mom, so she had to be. That was the hardest part, because sometimes she didn’t have time for me.”
