When You Trap a Tiger, page 8
“Cool!” Jensen says. “Now, Ricky and I have to get back to tutoring, so—”
Ricky shoves his notebook aside and leans forward. “So, Lily, sit down. Tell us your whole life story. When did you discover a love of tigers? How do you really feel about Lucky Charms? Spare no details!”
“Well…,” I start. He mentioned tigers. There’s an opening there, somehow. If I can just shift the subject—
“Ricky, stop,” Jensen says. And then, to me: “Ignore him. He’s just trying to get out of the tutoring session.”
Ricky’s eyes bug. “No, Jensen, I’m serious! I’m making a friend. Adam is at camp, and Connor is traveling around Italy, and I must be socialized.”
Jensen snort-laughs. “You must review these flash cards.”
I’m about to get dismissed, so I interrupt with the first thing that comes to mind. “Jensen, can I have a pudding, too?”
She blinks. It’s rude, I know, but I need a second alone with Ricky.
Jensen covers her surprise with a smile and stands up. “Sure, Lily. I’ll grab you one. Ricky’s desperate for a quick break anyway.” She raises her eyebrows at Ricky to emphasize quick, then asks if I want chocolate or vanilla.
“Vanilla. Thank you.” I want to hug her hard, but that seems a little over the top for pudding.
“Another chocolate for me, please,” Ricky says.
Jensen sighs and heads off to the staff room.
“The tutoring isn’t because I’m stupid,” Ricky says as soon as Jensen leaves. “It’s just because I don’t have a word brain. That’s why. Or a numbers one, I guess. But I’m going to be a psychologist. I have a very intuitive understanding of the human psyche,” he says, as if he’s reciting something he read online. “I’m very good at reading people.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.” I have to get him on topic before Jensen comes back, but he goes on.
“It’s why Jensen and I are such good friends. Because she wants to be a journalist, so she also needs a good understanding of people. We both really know how to talk to people. Actually—”
“You said your great-grandpa was a tiger hunter,” I blurt.
He frowns. “Well, I didn’t say that, exactly. I’m not supposed to talk about stuff like that….”
“How did he do it?”
Ricky stares at me, silent, for once.
“I mean, hypothetically. Obviously not actually. But, like, if someone were to catch a tiger.”
Ricky nods, trying to make sense of me. “Right. You’re really into tigers, aren’t you? But tigers are majestic creatures, and they’re endangered. They really shouldn’t be hunted.”
“Oh, I know, yeah, definitely. I’m not going to. But if I were going to…” I’m talking so quickly that I’m afraid I might scare him, but Ricky doesn’t seem too alarmed.
He shrugs. “Well, I don’t really know the details. I never knew my great-grandfather, and my family doesn’t really talk about that part of his life, so who knows?”
Disappointment slices straight through me. Obviously he doesn’t know. This was such a stupid idea. I thought I could be a hero, that I could actually help. But I’m just me.
I try to hold all my emotions inside, so Ricky can’t see, but I feel a hot rush of tears building behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut and try to breathe.
“Oh no,” Ricky says, shifting in his seat, looking horrified by my reaction. “I can still help, maybe! Do you like hunting or something?”
I shake my head, trying to get myself under control. I need to get out of this situation and go home and think up a plan B. “Not hunting, really. I just wanted to know how to catch a tiger, I guess. But I was just curious. It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna go.”
“Wait! Don’t go. You look so…” He pauses, cheeks going pink.
“Never mind,” I say, just as he says—
“I know!” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a thin, colorful magazine. No, not a magazine. A comic book. I lean closer to read the title: The Adventures of Superman: Doom Trap!
Ricky grins. “We could make a trap. Like a pit to catch tigers in. It’ll be so cool, see?” He opens the comic to a dog-eared page and shows me the drawing of Superman, trapped in a giant metal box and a web of red laser beams.
“I don’t think I can do something like that. And also…” I stare at the illustration. “Isn’t Superman the good guy? Doesn’t he break out of that trap?”
Ricky frowns, and now he’s the one who looks disappointed. “Oh, yeah. I guess. I just meant…” He looks down and stuffs the comic book back into his bag. “Sorry, I know this wasn’t what you were looking for. My dad’s always telling me I get too excited about things, and my friends don’t really get it when I talk about comics and stuff, so yeah, I understand if you think it’s weird.”
And now I feel guilty for causing this whole situation in the first place. “It’s not weird. It’s just…” I stop myself before I say, It’s just not what I was looking for.
Because, actually, a tiger trap is exactly what I was looking for. Obviously, I can’t build a trap out of metal and lasers. Obviously, it’s ridiculous to use a comic book as a how-to guide—but not as ridiculous as trying to trap a magical talking tiger.
Ricky is someone who makes things happen. He acts without overthinking. If I want to catch a tiger, I need to be more like him. “Actually, say I don’t have steel and lasers. Do you think I could build a trap with normal stuff?”
His eyebrows shoot way up. “Wait, are we actually building a tiger trap?”
I clear my throat. “Well, me, not we, and I don’t know—”
He wiggles with excitement. “If you’re making the tiger trap here, I have to do it with you.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to disappoint him again, but…“I don’t think that’s a good idea….”
He leans forward, nearly falling out of his chair. “Lily, I have to. That sounds so fun. And besides, I know way more than you do. I read so many comic books, and plus, I’ve probably inherited knowledge from my great-grandpa, like in my blood or something. I will be an excellent resource!”
I bite my lip. It’s not that I don’t want to be his friend. It’s just that most people probably wouldn’t understand the whole magical talking tiger part of this. “I don’t know, Ricky….”
He droops. “Oh, well, that’s okay, then. You don’t have to invite me if you don’t want to.”
Now I’m really hoping for Jensen to come back, but she’s still in the staff room, and I have to stand here, feeling way guilty.
Maybe inviting him wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t have to tell him what the trap is actually for. And maybe it would be nice to have some help—from someone who isn’t all that bothered by the why of things.
“Fine,” I say, and his whole body goes electric, sitting straight up.
“Really? I’m so excited. This is gonna be EPIC.” He makes an explosion gesture to show epic. “I’m so glad you said yes. Because now making a tiger trap is in my head and it will not leave.”
“Right,” I say.
“I have to stop by home to get supplies after tutoring, but I’ll be at your house as soon as possible. Jensen said you live across the street, right?”
“You mean…today?” I ask. “Don’t you have to ask your dad?”
“Oh, he won’t notice I’m gone.” He tears a piece of paper out of his notebook and scribbles his phone number, but before he can hand it to me, Jensen comes back with the pudding.
Ricky hides the scrap of paper in his fist, and I shoot him a Be quiet! look. He nods and mimes zipping his lips shut. He tries to look serious, but his big grin busts out, and he practically radiates excitement.
Jensen frowns. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Ricky and I say at once, which is probably a little suspicious.
Jensen’s about to grill us more, but something stops her. She looks over my shoulder and her eyebrows rise. I turn to follow her gaze.
Sam’s standing behind me, arms folded across her chest, glaring at me with her black-rimmed eyes. She’s angry.
Jensen speaks first. Her eyes flicker from surprise to confusion to curiosity. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Jensen.” She gives Sam the same warm, inviting smile she gave me—only with something extra, something curious and almost hopeful—maybe because Sam is her age. Jensen tucks a dark curl behind her ear, and her lucky freckles glow.
I can’t help but feel jealous, because it feels like without even trying, Sam stole my friend. That’s the problem with sticky people.
“H-hey,” Sam says to Jensen, stammering a little bit. “I’m, uh, Sam.” She’s caught off guard by Jensen’s niceness or something. But then she turns back to me, eyes narrowing. She stands a little taller. Sam’s most comfortable in her anger. “Why did you run out in the middle of our conversation? You can’t just do that.”
I swallow, feeling Jensen’s and Ricky’s eyes on us. I want to disappear, but my invisibility switch isn’t working. It’s been malfunctioning lately.
“Why didn’t you just tell me where you were going?” Sam asks.
“I…” I’m not sure what to say. Because I couldn’t tell you about my secret tiger plan? “I had to come here.” The words kerplunk at my feet, falling flat.
An awkward silence echoes, until Jensen exclaims, “Oh, I know you!”
Sam’s eyes widen, and Jensen grins. “Not to be creepy or anything. You just looked familiar to me. You went to Sun Elementary, right? Like, ages ago?”
Sam pauses. Her cheeks go pink. “Um, yeah, for a few years. We lived here—yeah, a while ago. Ages ago.”
I stare at my sister. I’ve never seen her stumble over her words like that. She’s normally so sure of herself. And so…mean. Now all her edges go soft.
Jensen toys with her curls. “You know, we’re doing a bake sale to raise money for the library. It was Lily’s idea, actually. And you’re welcome to help, if you’re interested. I can give you my number and we can coordinate.”
“Yeah, I…okay. I’ve—yeah.” Sam readjusts her shirt, even though it looked fine.
I glance at Ricky, but he’s just eating his second pudding, completely oblivious to any strangeness.
Pass me your number while they’re distracted, I say with my eyes.
In response, he points to his cup and gives me a thumbs-up, as if I was wondering how his pudding was.
I take a very deep breath and exhale slowly, like Mom does when she’s dealing with Halmoni.
Jensen grins. “That would be awesome!” she says as she takes Sam’s phone and types her number in. I feel a pang of jealousy because Sam just got someone’s phone number, no problem, like everything is easy for her.
Jensen and Sam stare at each other for a few seconds, and it’s like Sam has forgotten about me completely.
I start to feel antsy. “Anyway,” I mumble. I stare at Ricky. Silently I tell him, Give me your number now, super subtle.
“Oh, yeah!” Ricky says. He holds out the scrap of paper and drops it into my palm. He lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “For later. You know. For the secret plan.”
Jensen looks surprised. Sam looks suspicious.
I take another deep breath and force a very normal smile. “Okay, well, we should go,” I say.
“Right!” Jensen says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up. Anyway, Ricky and I really need to get back to tutoring.”
Ricky shakes his head. “It’s okay, Jensen. I can see you’re making a friend. And I want to be respectful of that.”
Jensen laughs, and Sam gives an awkward goodbye shrug before dragging me away from the table.
Ricky calls after us, mouth full of pudding. “See you later!”
I wave goodbye as Sam pulls me out of the library, and when we’re out, I turn to her. “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that.”
She stares at me. “Seriously? That’s what you’re upset about? You ran out in the middle of a conversation and left me with Mom, who’s already super stressed.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, and I mean it. I’m still annoyed with Sam, but about this, she’s kind of right.
“I don’t know. I get it. I’m mad, too. I’m mad that it’s happening, and I’m even madder that Mom didn’t tell us sooner.” Sam runs a hand over her face. “Being in that house, it’s like a prison. Sometimes I want to run away.”
I wish I could explain that I wasn’t running away. That I have a plan, that it’s all going to be okay. But she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t believe in the magic.
As we hike back up the stairs, I squint at the house, trying to see what Sam sees. To me, the house has always been a safe place. It protects us.
But I guess I can almost see it, in the way the nearly-black vines strangle the house, the way the door shuts and locks. The way the house hides, tucked away in the trees. I can see it—almost—this house as a prison.
Or even as a trap.
Ricky arrives on his bike a few hours later, after Mom takes Halmoni to a follow-up doctor’s appointment. Sam’s upstairs, so it’s just me in the living room, which is probably good, because he’s got about a thousand yards of rope wrapped around his waist and is wearing head-to-toe camouflage—including a camo-patterned top hat.
“Whoa,” I say as he steps through the front door.
He lifts his top hat in greeting. “Tiger Trapmaster, at your service.”
I blink. “What?”
“Yeah, you’re right. The name needs some work.” He walks past me, unties the rope, and dumps it onto my living room floor. When he sees my confusion, he clarifies: “My superhero name, obviously.”
“Right.” I feel bad, because I know he’s having fun, and I don’t want him to think I’m mocking him, but also—this isn’t a game. This matters. A lot. “I don’t think the camo is necessary?”
He grins. “It’s not. But it’s cool. What’s your superhero name?”
“I’m not a superhero.” I pick up the rope, trying to change the subject. “What do we do with this?”
He squints at me. “Well, fine, but at least wear this.” He lifts the top hat from his head and places it on mine. Then he nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”
The brim of the hat is a little sweaty, and a little big. “Why do you have a camo top hat?”
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
I blink. After knowing him for a couple of days, it’s obvious that he has a lot of strange hats. But maybe he doesn’t think they’re strange at all. To him, a camo top hat is perfectly normal.
“The hat is just…” I’m about to say kind of weird, but I remember his face at the grocery store, and I stop myself. I don’t want to make him feel bad like that. “It’s unique,” I finish, and then, before we can dive deeper into this hat conversation, I try to refocus. “I was thinking we should set the trap over here. Follow me.”
I lead him to the basement door.
“This place is so intense,” he says, taking in the herbs, the charms, the little statues—and of course, the boxes and chests, still stacked by the basement door.
“It’s not intense,” I tell him, bristling a little. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so nice about the hat. “It’s my home.”
He turns pink. “Sorry. I like it, though. It’s like being in a thrift store, or a not-scary haunted house.”
Before I can respond, Sam’s footsteps creak down the stairs, and she stops in front of us. “Excuse me,” she says, folding her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at me. “Why is he here and what’s on your head?”
“Oh,” I say. “This is a top hat.” Honestly, there’s not much more to say about it. “And Ricky’s just here to…read.”
Sam frowns, glancing at the rope, at Ricky’s camo, and then back at me. “Does Mom know you invited someone over?”
Ricky looks back and forth between us, then clears his throat and smiles at Sam. “Hi, I’m Ricky. I’m Lily’s friend from the library.”
Sam rolls her eyes, “Yes, I know. I literally just saw you this morning.”
Then she pulls me into Halmoni’s empty bedroom, where we can talk privately. “You didn’t even ask me if you could have a friend over,” she says, her voice bordering on exasperation.
I shrug. “Mom won’t care. She wants me to make friends.”
“Yeah, but you can’t just do whatever you want. You have to ask. Remember the conversation we just had?”
“I’m sorry. He just kind of showed up. He invited himself.” It’s technically true.
“Don’t be so sketchy! I’m not stupid. I know you have some secret plan. Why are you wearing that hat and why are you holding a pile of rope?” Her eyes narrow. “This is about your weird tiger theory, isn’t it?”
“No,” I lie, unconvincingly.
Sam frowns. “I think I have to tell Mom.”
She reaches for her phone, but I grab her wrist to stop her. “Don’t, please. Sisters…keep each other’s secrets.”
We stare each other down, until finally, she shakes her head. “Fine. Do whatever. Just leave me out of it.”
“Oh.” It’s what I wanted, I guess. But it still stings because while I don’t want her to stop me from doing this, I also don’t want her to ignore me. I want her to care.
There’s an ache in my chest because it should be Sam and me, together, building a tiger trap. This story belongs to sisters. It should be us.
But Sam twists her wrist out of my hand before walking out of the bedroom and back up the stairs.
“Your sister seems…” Ricky swallows. “Nice?”
I ignore him. “We need to build the trap downstairs.”
He frowns. “Well, I’ve done a lot of Googling, and normally tiger pits are outside. So they can be, you know, a pit.”
