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STARTLING STORIES
garden next to the courtyard—silica peonies and styrofoam rose bushes lined up neatly like toy soldiers in the rubber mulch, and tiger tulips sat sideways in plastic whiskey barrels stuffed with silver tinsel.
When Xiao-wu first saw the tulips, they looked familiar, reminding him of similar ones he’d fashioned out of pipe cleaners and metal paper clips at his old public govern-ment school. Mama and Baba had put the ones he made in an antique wine bottle on the kitchen counter at their house. But the tulips weren’t there anymore, moved out like him after his parents died.
“No, I haven’t seen a real one,” Xiao-wu answered.
“Great Burning!” Todd slapped his thighs. “Once we saw the flower—once we smelled it.” He stopped to grab a fresh stick of gum out of his pocket
