The RED JUNGLEFOWL in the FAIRY TEACUP
MIN WAS USED to unexpected visitors at the amusement park where Grandpa worked. Once, there was a yellow stray dog napping in a train car. Another time, a nonvenomous snake slithered among horses on the carousel, as if introducing itself and making friends. And last week, a homeless man spent an evening reciting Chinese poetry on the pirate swing ship. All of them fled upon discovery. The homeless man even muttered an apology.
What Min wasn’t used to, however, was a pecking, endangered visitor that wasn’t at all sorry and preferred a sleepover instead.
It began the same way it always had—with Min bringing Grandpa dinner. In the past, Mother came with her, but now that she was eleven, independence sizzled in her spine.
“It’s just three blocks away, and Grandpa will watch me cross the road. I’ll be fine!”
Mother had silently consented.
Min now swished her tiffin carrier gently as she passed a Chinese coffee shop, a hair salon, a tuition center, and an ice-cream café. When she came to the last shop of the row, Prata
