There was a linden tree in the yard of the orphanage. In its shade was a green bench the color of jade. Sitting there was holy. And so Tam and Cherry sat next to each other, admiring the sunset. Pom was sweeping the leaves in front of them. 

Two months ago, Pom and Tam sat backwards on that same bench. They were watching a praying mantis crawling on the linden’s root. 

“It looks so,” Pom said, “gross.”

“Catch it,” Tam said. 

“Ew.”

Tam bent down over the bench and put his thumb in front of the mantis. When it crawled from his thumb to his wrist, he pinched its body with his other hand. Pom marveled at his best friend. 

Tam hovered the mantis in Pom’s eyes.  

Pom jumped. “Get it away from me,” he said. 

Tam laughed. 

“I’ll keep it as a pet,” Tam said. 

“But I found it first,” Pom said. 

“But you’re not brave enough to catch it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Fine. Let’s share it.”

Pom ran across the yard and into the house. He returned with an empty water bottle and a pair of scissors. He cut a few small holes in the bottle and put some dirt inside. He gave the bottle to Tam, who opened the cap and let the mantis crawl inside. 

“We should name it,” Tam said, watching Pom pick up a linden leaf. “They don’t eat leaf, dummy.”

“For habitat,” Pom said. 

He placed the leaf inside the bottle. 

“What about Gink?” Pom said. 

“That’s lame,” Tam said. “Kitty?”

“But it’s not a cat.”

“That’s the point. Because I want a cat, and we can’t have a cat.”

“But Gink sounds cute.”

“Fine, then. Hi Gink.”

Pom got lost looking at Tam, who was playing with Gink. And because of that, Pom smiled. He was happy that the world around Tam had become unimportant in the moment. He was happy that Tam had forgotten that there was a guy who had been growing up with him for fourteen years, sitting next to him. He was even happier that Tam listened to him. 

Pom remembered Gink on his windowsill and swept harder. The sound of leaves rustling under his broom interrupted the conversation between Tam and Cherry. 

“Pom,” Tam said. “I think you should come join us.”

Pom looked up from the ground to his best friend and Cherry, said nothing, and continued sweeping. 

“Pom. Come on,” Tam said, turning to Cherry. “He’s quiet but he’s super clean and super thoughtful. He can help your parents with housework. See, he’s sweeping the yard right now.”

“I’m only on duty, Tam,” Pom said.

“But I think it would be very cool if we became three siblings,” Cherry said. “Have you guys been to the mall? We can all go to the mall together and play bowling.”

“Yes. Wait. They have bowling in the mall?” Tam said. 

Pom swept the leaves into the dustpan and walked a little farther away from Tam and Cherry. He heard a shout from outside the gate. 

“My parents are here,” Cherry said. “But maybe I’ll come next Wednesday after school.”

Pom stopped sweeping to look at Cherry hugging her mom outside the gate. When she jumped into the car, Pom realized that his hand was sweating more than usual. 

“Come on, Pom,” Tam yelled from the bench and walked to where Pom was standing. 

“I truly think this is our only chance,” Tam said. “I’ve always wanted a family.”

Pom looked up. “Aren’t we kind of like a family already?” 

“I mean family family. Like parents and siblings.”

“But Su Mun is like our dad. And Su Han is our mom. If you think about it.”

“I don’t know.”

Pom continued walking as he heard Tam’s footsteps fading away. He wanted to say that he could be Tam’s brother, at least. Though he felt at ease that he didn’t. 

The sky had turned a soft navy blue by the time Pom finished sweeping the yard. He walked to the kitchen, propped the broom and dustpan against a wall, and dipped his feet in the water bucket. It took him longer than usual to wash them. When Pom entered the kitchen, the steam that smelled like boiled carrots evaporated from a pot. The dying light crept through the window’s crack. There was a bowl of silkworms on the wooden table. It was at this table that Tam told Su Mun about Gink. The monk smiled for five seconds with his lips but not his eyes or cheeks. 

A month ago, Su Mun asked Pom after he came home from school, “So, who takes care of Gink?” 

“We share,” Pom said with a lollipop in his mouth. “I feed him from Monday to noon on Thursday. Tam feeds him from Thursday night to the end of Sunday.”

Pom lifted the cover of each pot he saw in the kitchen. 

“Su Mun, where are the worms?” he said. 

“Today is Friday,” Su Mun said. 

“Tam will be home late. He is playing soccer. So I’ll take care of Gink for one more day.”

Pom poured himself a glass of water. 

“He asked me,” Pom said. 

“The worms are in the yellow plastic bag on the table.”

Pom grabbed a bowl and scooped the worms. 

“Thank you. But Su Mun, why do you always ask me about Gink but never Tam?”

“Pom, it’s because I see you more than him.”

 “You’re right, Su Mun.”

Pom laughed and threw his lollipop in the trash can. 

“Don’t get too attached,” Su Mun said and slurped his tea. 

Pom stopped in the doorway. 

“To Gink,” Su Mun said. “Animals have souls. They’re mortal, too. Right?”

Pom shrugged and walked away. 

Lately, Pom noticed that Gink had been lying down more than usual. And it hadn’t been shedding skin. Gink, like Tam, ate a lot. But it hadn’t been eating for five days. Whenever Tam was out with his friends, Pom sat by the window and watched Gink’s gauging green eyes as he munched on the worms. He thought the act was macabre and adorable. He missed that, like how he missed glancing at Tam’s stout fingers when he gripped the spoon during breakfast. Pom tried to let Gink roam around the linden’s roots every two days. The first time he tried picking Gink up, it wiggled its limbs. Pom swallowed his spit and held his breath until Gink crawled inside the bottle. When Pom got used to holding Gink, he wanted to tell Tam that he was no longer afraid of insects. But Tam was always with his friends or Cherry, talking about soccer. The only time Pom got to be alone with Tam was at night after Pom had brushed his teeth. They slept on the same mat. Pom, being a little smaller, brushed his teeth first so he could crawl into the corner before Tam, leaving a bigger space for his friend. Every night, Pom listened to Tam rambling on about the janitor at school, his grades, and the new marble games he invented.

“How’s Gink?” Tam asked on a Monday night. 

“He’s good,” Pom said. 

The cicadas roared. 

“You know, Gink,” Pom said. “I think it might be —”

“Uh huh.”

Tam was already snoring. Pom turned away. His eyes were open. 

Cherry came to the orphanage next Friday as she promised. When her parents were talking to Su Mun at the shrine, Pom, who was on sweeping duty, washed the dishes. It was supposed to be Tam’s turn today, but Tam asked Pom to swap. And so when Pom stacked the dishes and went to the yard, Tam was not there. Pom looked in his bedroom, the bathroom, and behind the shrine, but he couldn’t find Tam. So he went to the yard again and sat on the bench in the shade of the linden. The wind stirred the leaves above. 

When Pom closed his eyes, he heard footsteps. 

“How are you?” Su Mun said, straightening his robe and sitting down next to Pom. 

“I’m good.”

“Good is good. How’s Gink?”

“Gink’s good.”

They sat in silence. 

“Do you know how long a mantis can live?” Pom said. 

“A few years.”

“Below ten? But Gink may be very old already. It lies down a lot. Do you know how to tell how old it is? What if it’s dying?”

“I don’t.”

“Sorry,” Pom said and sighed. “Can you touch an animal?”

Su Mun laughed. 

“Of course I can,” Su Mun said.

“Wait, so if animals have souls, they can fall in love, too? Right?”

“Pom,” Su Mun said. “It’s getting late. Let’s have dinner.”

“I’m,” Pom said, slouching and staring at the ground, “not hungry.”

Su Mun patted Pom’s back and stood. 

“Is Tam coming home for dinner?” Pom said. 

The more bites Pom took, the more he felt like vomiting. He poked his chopsticks into his rice bowl and stirred, hoping the rice would get mushier so it would be easier to swallow. But Su Mun kept putting food into Pom’s bowl. Pom frowned at the monk. Su Mun finished his dinner and put his bowl in the sink. 

“I’ll get the dishes,” Pom said from the table. 

There was only Pom in the kitchen with a bag of silkworms and plates full of food. Pom wanted to throw his food away. Su Mun would never find out. But Pom remembered Su Mun talking about the people and animals who died of starvation. So he sat, waiting. 

Now he was like Gink, he thought, or maybe Gink was just bored with eating silkworms every day. Pom ran to his room and brought the mantis to the kitchen. He used the other end of his chopsticks to drop one grain of rice into the bottle. Gink moved closer to the grain of rice, sniffed it, but didn’t eat it. Then Pom gave it two and three more. He gave it a slice of cabbage and a piece of carrot. Still, Gink didn’t want it. 

“Pom,” Tam said, taking off his sandals. 

Pom straightened his back. 

Tam threw his backpack on the floor and sat across from Pom, where Su Mun had sat earlier. 

“Tam,” Pom said. “Where have you been?”

“Cherry’s parents took me to this cool place.”

“Where?” Pom said, crossing his legs on the chair. 

“Are you eating that?” Tam said as he pointed to Pom’s food. 

“No. I’m full.”

Pom picked up the bowl from the table and gave it to Tam with two hands.

“I’m so hungry. You need to eat more, Pom. You’re so skinny.” 

Tam squeezed Pom’s arm. 

“Oh. There are bumping cars,” Tam said with a mouthful of rice. “And this thing that you can jump on, and it bounces, so you jump higher.”

“A trampoline?”

“Yeah, yeah. And there’s a big big turkey leg.”

“Did you eat all of it?”

“I share it with Cherry. But she didn’t eat a lot. She was just like you. I think you guys will get along. I wanted to save some for you, but I couldn’t find any plastic bags.”

Pom smiled. “I’m jealous.”

“Where were you? I was looking for you everywhere. I thought you were at school.”

Pom coughed. 

“It’s okay,” Tam said. “Next time. But I mean it. Cherry’s family could be our new home.”

Tam saw Gink. 

“What’s Gink doing here? How is it?” Tam said. 

“It hasn’t been eating a lot.”

“Oh no.”

Tam picked up the bottle and studied Gink. 

“I think it might be dying,” Pom said. 

“Don’t say that, Pom.”

“No. I feed it. It doesn’t eat. It just lies on the ground all day.”

“Maybe it just needs attention.”

“You haven’t been taking care of him,” Pom said, stacking the dirty dishes and carrying them to the sink. “A lot.”

“I was just very busy.”

“With soccer?”

“Yeah.”

“And hanging out with Cherry. I have to help Su Mun with chores and still take care of Gink.”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, Tam. I don’t know. Maybe Gink was supposed to be ours, not just mine.”

“Give me Gink for the next two weeks then. I’ll take care of it.”

The running water hissed. Tam’s chopsticks clattered. Pom felt the heat from the stove and turned it off. 

He turned. His voice was still quiet. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Pom said. 

“Then what do you mean?”

“You say you wanted a pet, Tam. And we have Gink. You wanted parents. We have Su Mun. You wanted siblings. You have me, and Yen, Pim, Mai. Everyone here is your sibling. Is this not like a family?”

Tam carried his dirty bowl to the sink and left the kitchen. When there was only the sound of running water, Pom turned off the faucet and walked to the table. He took a deep breath before grabbing the bottle and throwing it on the floor. The plastic cracked. Pom stomped on it. He didn’t look at Gink, but at a vein on his foot. Sweat and soap soaked through his t-shirt. Then he walked back to the sink and turned the faucet all the way. He rubbed his eyes with water. 

Tam wasn’t next to Pom when he woke up the next morning. When Pom sat up straight, he noticed a bottle on the windowsill. The plastic sparkled as the sun lit up the bottle’s bottom half. Inside the bottle was a new mantis. Pom picked it up. Next to the bottle was a note that read: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you would love an insect that much. I hope we’re still together.” Outside, the heart-shaped linden leaves rustled as the wind blew. Pom stood barefoot next to the window, listening for footsteps.