When You Trap a Tiger: Chapters 1–13

An instinctive kind of fear twists in my stomach, making me carsick.

I nod, trying to act normal. Casual. Even though my heart is jump-dancing.

Her smile falters, like she might fall to pieces.

I have never, ever felt rain like this. It is insistent and cold—too cold for July—and we don't even make it out of the driveway before my shoes squish-squelch and my jeans get heavy.

I have never, ever felt rain like this. It is insistent and cold—too cold for July—and we don't even make it out of the driveway before my shoes squish- squelch and my jeans get heavy.

By the time Sam and I get to the top of the stairs—panting, dripping—I've wrung all the air out of my lungs, and my heart is bursting.

Mom waits for us on the front stoop, which is nice, I guess, but kind of strange because she should open the door and go inside.

"That's just naive," she mutters.

On the mantel, two stone lions hug a photograph of Mom, welcoming wealth into her life.

When I breathe the house in, the scent of buckwheat noodles, sage, and laundry detergent smells like home.

QAG is Sam for Quiet Asian Girl. As in, a stereotype.
As in, Sam tries so hard not to be a stereotype that she wears black lipstick and bleached a lock of her hair and says every little thought that comes to mind.

Halmoni waves her arms in front of her, like she's warding off Mom's annoyance.

"No, no. Today is not auspicious day. When I move boxes out, that is a lucky day. But today is dangerous day for spirits. We move another day."

"Are you—are you sick?"
"Oh, yes, Lily. Only a little bit. How do you call it? A little beetle?"
Sometimes I think she mixes up words on purpose, to make us laugh—to distract us. "A bug?" I clarify.

She sets the tea in front of me and ruffles my hair.

His eyebrow quirks up, and he nods once, in what might be approval.

"This is Jensen," Joe adds, unnecessarily. "She is my employee."
Jensen laughs. "What an eloquent introduction. Now that you know all there is to know about me, what's your name?"

"Spoiler alert: the library is pretty sparse, so the tour won't last very long."

I get the sense that Jensen is what Mom calls an unrelenting optimist, but her happiness is infectious.

Jensen leads me over to the wildlife section, and I flip through the tiger selection. It's pretty dismal—102 Tiger Facts! and 102 MORE Tiger Facts!

"I've never heard the Korean version. Isn't that interesting, though? There are different versions of certain fairy tales from all over the world—even in places that don't overlap. And yet the stories are essentially the same."

"Do you like comics, too? I love them. I'm reading through the original Supermans right now. Well, the issues that Joe has here, at least. I know a lot of people think Superman's not cool. And I'm not saying he's my favorite superhero. He's just canon, you know?"

"But tigers are cool. They're, like, sleek and elegant, but in a ruthless way."
I don't exactly want to think about how ruthless tigers are.

She climbs out of bed—slowly and intently, like she's climbing out of quicksand.

She opens her nightstand drawer and pulls out a sheaf of dried herbs.

I'm a little worried she's about to pinch our cheeks, but she refrains.

The woman stays to chat with Halmoni for a while, and when she finally flits away, a bald man tells us that Halmoni made him laugh, even after his divorce.

The cardboard display falls over, and then I'm on top of it, sprawled out on the floor in front of Ricky and his dad and the rest of the grocery store—surrounded by cereal boxes.

He lurches forward and props the cardboard shelf up.

She opens her door and hobbles over to the side of the road, clutching her stomach, hunched.