One Amazing Elephant

by Linda Oatman High

  There’s the sound of the chip bag being ripped open, crunching.

  “We just can’t afford Queenie Grace anymore,” Grandma says.

  “Well, yeah, you’re right, I guess. Plus, she has been acting out a bit, we have to admit,” Trullia adds.

  “I know that Queenie Grace is grieving,” says Grandma, her voice breaking like dropped china. “So am I. I understand that. And now I’m not only grieving for Bill, but for her, too. She’s been with us for a long time. I love that elephant like I love a child.”

  “I think that maybe you love her more than you love me,” Trullia says.

  Nobody speaks. Silence falls heavy as storm clouds gather in a threatening gang over Gibtown, over Grandma’s trailer, over me and Henry Jack and Queenie Grace.

  Nighttime again, and Henry Jack and I are lying flat on our backs, staring at the quiet sky in our usual spot. Queenie Grace is sprawled nearby, an aura of sadness hanging over her large body.

  “I think she knows,” Henry Jack says. “She knows what’s going on.”

  A screen door squeaks, and Mike steps out of Charlie’s place. He doesn’t know we’re here. He joins Charlie in the yard, and they both light cigars.

  “So,” Mike says, “here’s the plan. The old lady says she’s sending the elephant to a sanctuary, over in Tampa, on account of how she can’t afford it anymore.”

  “How do you know?” Charlie asks.

  “Trullia told me.”

  “When’s it happening?” Charlie asks.

  “Probably by Saturday,” says Mike. “But I have a plan.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “We load up the elephant while the old lady and Trullia are sleeping,” says Mike, “and then we split the money three ways. You, me, our buddy Gus. Takes three to swipe an elephant.”

  Henry Jack looks at me and I look at him, as we absorb the words leaking through the night.

  “They’re … going to steal Queenie Grace,” I whisper.

  “Not if I can help it,” Henry Jack mutters.

  He and I lock eyes, and I know we’re thinking the same thing.

  “We’ve got to get her out of here,” I state. “We’ve got to save Queenie Grace.”

  We’re quiet until Mike and Charlie go back inside.

  “We need to tell my grandma,” I whisper.

  “No,” Henry Jack whispers back. “Then she’ll just send Queenie Grace away even quicker, to keep her away from those two.”

  “So,” I whisper, “what are we going to do?”

  “Run away,” he whispers. “We’ll take Queenie Grace.”

  “But how can you run away with an elephant?”

  “Beats me,” says Henry Jack. “But we’ll figure it out.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

  “Sometimes it’s best not to plan,” responds Henry Jack. “Plus, we don’t have much time. Queenie Grace’s life is at stake.”

  “I know. But jeez. I don’t know about running away. My dad would freak out. Plus my grandma. And Trullia … she’ll be so mad.”

  “I just can’t get used to you calling her Trullia,” says Henry Jack.

  “That’s her name.”

  “But … she’s your mom. You need to call her Mom.”

  “If she ever earns it,” I say, “I’ll do that.”

  “Huh,” says Henry Jack. “Never heard of that.”

  I shrug.

  “So what does she have to do? To earn it?”

  I take a deep breath. Queenie Grace watches us, eavesdropping.

  “Well,” I say, “to begin with, maybe she can explain why she went and left us.”

  Henry Jack snorts.

  “Some things in life,” he says, flipping back his hair, “just can’t be explained.”

  The next morning, Friday, we’re making a list, or at least, Henry Jack is. How to Save an Elephant. Things to Take is the title.

  1.water bottles

  2.food (stuff for us and Queenie Grace, too)

  3.sunburn stuff

  4.soap/washcloths

  5.Manual for Mahouts

  6.blankets

  7.change of clothes

  8.cell phones

  9.chargers

  10.toothbrushes/toothpaste

  We’re at Henry Jack’s house, and he’s filling four backpacks with things from the list.

  “I think we need more than backpacks,” I say. “We need like rolling suitcases or something.”

  “Oh, like that won’t be obvious,” says Henry Jack. “One elephant and two kids with rolling luggage.”

  “Well, how are we going to carry all this stuff?”

  “Queenie Grace will help,” Henry Jack says. “We’ll use this howdah thing that I know is stored in your grandma’s pink shed.”

  “What’s a howdah?”

  “It’s one of those saddle-like thingies that people use to ride an elephant,” Henry Jack explains. “But we can use it to carry some stuff.”

  “And how will we get it on Queenie Grace’s back?”

  “Duh,” says Henry Jack. “We’ll use a ladder.”

  “This all sounds like a stupid plan to me.”

  “No,” Henry Jack said. “It’s the opposite of stupid. It’s smart. We’ll save Queenie Grace.”

  “Henry Jack,” I say, “I agree we have to save her. But this running-away thing might not be a good idea. It might be impossible.”

  “Nothing,” says Henry Jack, cramming a rolled-up blanket into a third backpack, “is impossible.”

  Queenie Grace Hates to Feel Hate

  I hate these chains. I have never felt hate this strong before. Hate is a bad feeling.

  Nighttime has fallen, and Violet and Trullia are sleeping. I smell their sleep, and I hear their breath. I always liked the sound of Bill’s sleep. Now that he no longer breathes, I miss the air from his nose, from his mouth. I just miss Bill.

  I can now smell the girl Lily and Henry Jack, the Alligator Boy. They do not sleep, and their breath huffs heavy. Henry Jack and Lily come closer, and each one holds bags on their back. Each one wears a cap the color of night, and clothes like nighttime sky. They are trying not to be seen, and they are trying to be quiet. Their feet are not bare, and I hear their shoe bottoms scoot across the dew-coated grass.

  The Alligator Boy carries something—a sharp hacksaw. He kneels down as if to pray, and then he begins to saw away at my chains.

  I raise my trunk. I must be quiet! I must be still! I must wait for Henry Jack to break the chains!

  I no longer feel hate.

  Running Away

  Henry Jack leads the way. I try to be silent, and I guess Queenie Grace is being as quiet as possible for such a gigantic creature. She moves fast, swinging her trunk back and forth, a little grin on her lips. If you could call them lips, that is. Her breathing snuffles loud in the night; her weight moves the earth. It looks like she swivels her hips, as if she’s doing an elephant tango. We actually managed to get the howdah on her back, with the help of one of Grandpa’s old stepladders.

  “She looks sassy,” I say. “Happy.”

  “She is happy,” Henry Jack responds. “Aren’t you?”

  “Not exactly. There’s got to be a better way to save Queenie Grace.”

  “Well, when you come up with it,” says Henry Jack, “you just let me know.”

  We pass trailers all lit up with Christmas lights, and others dark and quiet. I catch a glimpse of a lady wearing a long white nightgown in a lit-up window, and another in a robe. It smells like summertime. We pass by the abandoned Ferris wheel, silhouetted against the nighttime sky, and there’s the spooky sound of old-fashioned carousel music coming from out of nowhere.

  “That old carousel actually works?” I whisper to Henry Jack.

  “Sometimes,” says Henry Jack, “it just starts up all by itself.”

  I shiver.

  “That’s creepy,” I say. “Maybe it’s haunted.”

&nb
sp; “Well, ghosts aren’t what we need to be afraid of,” says Henry Jack. “It’s some of the living people who are the scariest. Like Charlie and Mike.”

  “Okay,” I say, “you’re freaking me out. Let’s change the subject now.”

  “Okay. We’ll chat about running away.”

  “Or not.”

  We walk and walk, Queenie Grace lumbering between us, out of Gibtown, until there’s hard highway beneath our feet.

  “Jeez,” I say. “That was easy.”

  “Nothing’s easy,” says Henry Jack. “It’s not like it’s over yet. Not over till the fat lady sings, Mom always says.”

  Queenie Grace makes a little sound, as if she’s laughing.

  “She has a great sense of humor,” I say.

  “That’s what my mom always says, too,” replies Henry Jack. “She says Queenie Grace is the most human elephant she ever met.”

  “It’s true,” I say. “She’s more human than some people I know.”

  Henry Jack snickers.

  “True,” he says.

  “So, where are we going, anyway?” I ask.

  “You’re too full of questions,” Henry Jack says. “Sometimes it’s better to just follow the stars without talking so much, like the Wise Men. Especially when you’re with somebody who knows what he’s doing and knows where he’s going.”

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I say.

  “Hey,” says Henry Jack, “when you’re born with alligator skin, you learn how to be strong.”

  We trudge on and on, off the highway and onto a dark fairy-tale trail through woods. Briars scratch my arms; limbs snap at my face. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m scared, I’m hot.

  I’m wheezing; breathing sure isn’t easy. I might die.

  Queenie Grace looks at me, as if she’s reading my mind. I feel the nuzzle of her trunk against my leg. She reminds me of Donna on the airplane: just giving me a little touch to let me know that everything will be okay. Queenie Grace is starting to feel almost like a lady to me, an old, quiet, and kind lady, maybe a spiritual adviser like Miss Donna.

  Maybe Queenie Grace is a human communicator: she figures out the souls of people.

  Queenie Grace Is Old, But She Loves to Feel Alive

  I am romping, happy to be free. I love being here, in the woods, by the creek, under the moon and stars! I love the crunching beneath my feet, the snap of twigs. I love the musky smell of the forest.

  Being free, being with my friends, makes me feel alive. I finally feel fully alive, for the first time since Bill died.

  We are running away, they say. I do not know exactly what this means, but for now, it feels good.

  And that is why I try to ignore the smell of the smoke, of the fire, of the danger smoldering nearby.

  The Men with Fire

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask. “I’m really feeling like this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “You worry too much, Lily Rose,” says Henry Jack. “Look at the bright side: so far everything has gone just fine.”

  “So far,” I reply, “we’ve only been gone like an hour.”

  “I don’t need this kind of negativity,” Henry Jack says, and then he snickers. “You need to relax.”

  “It’s not very relaxing to run away with an elephant in the middle of the night!” I say. “What exactly are we going to do, anyway?”

  “I’m thinking of a place where we can maybe hide her here, in the woods, at least until we tell your grandma what we heard Mike and Charlie say. And then we talk her into giving it another try with Queenie Grace, after calling the cops on Mike and Charlie.”

  “That’s not going to work. And anyway, how long can you hide an elephant?”

  Nervousness gnaws away at me. Henry Jack says nothing; he just walks with his head bent forward and down.

  “Seriously,” I say, “we can’t exactly hide her. She’s enormous! Plus, like, she has to be fed a lot, and watered, and …”

  Henry Jack stops walking. He looks at me.

  “You may be right,” he says. “Maybe we do need a better plan.”

  “So can we go back and talk about this some more? Maybe tell my grandma what’s going on?”

  He sighs.

  “All right,” he says. “You talked me into it.”

  But then he puts his nose up in the air like a bloodhound.

  “I smell cigar smoke,” Henry Jack hisses. “I have a nose for Charlie the Fire-Eater. He’s somewhere close, I’d bet you a million dollars.”

  “I don’t smell it,” I whisper. There’s a breeze and leaves rustle on the trees. It’s spooky here, in the woods, at night. We’re at least a mile from Grandma’s place, and we’ve been walking for ages. We forgot to bring a flashlight.

  “I smell it,” Henry Jack says. “I can smell Charlie a mile away.”

  He pats Queenie Grace’s back.

  “Still,” he says gently to the elephant. “Be still, Queenie Grace.”

  She obeys, standing motionless as an elephant can stand, moving nothing but her ears. I feel the slight breeze from the flapping of those big ears.

  Henry Jack tips back his head, listening, sniffing.

  “Okay,” he whispers. “My radar nose has it figured out. I smell campfire smoke, plus Charlie’s cigar. We need to get the heck out of here. Follow me.”

  My heart races. I’m dizzy.

  “Walk as lightly as you can,” Henry Jack instructs. “That means you, too, Queenie Grace.”

  Henry Jack, Queenie Grace, and I try to walk lightly in the direction of my grandma’s place, clenching our teeth as twigs snap and crack beneath our feet.

  “Shh,” he says. “Dang, we’re going in the wrong direction. My nose failed me, for once.”

  “What do you mean?” I whisper. My heart hammers in my ears. We three come to a stop. Branches brush against my face.

  “See?”

  Through the trees and the leaves, there’s the flicker of fire. Orange: a campfire, flaming high.

  “It’s him,” Henry Jack whispers. “He’s eating fire, see?”

  I do see. Charlie wears his cowboy hat. He tips his head back, swallows the fire. Mike’s here, too, and another man we don’t know.

  “Must be Gus,” Henry Jack whispers. “The Gus he mentioned.”

  “So how much money will we make?” asks the stranger.

  “A lot,” Charlie replies. “Plenty. More money that I’ve seen in a heck of a long time.”

  “More money than we’ve seen,” Mike says. “Split three ways, remember?”

  Henry Jack nudges me. He points and mouths the word “Run.”

  We do. Henry Jack and Queenie Grace and me. We run as fast as we can, as far as we can, thundering through the forest, and then we stop to catch our breath at the edge of the woods. Queenie Grace is trembling.

  “Don’t worry,” says Henry Jack to the elephant. “We’ll take care of you, girl. We’ll protect you. Saving you is our number one priority.”

  Something buzzes around my face: a mosquito or a bee. I didn’t think they came out at night. I slap it away, and next thing you know, Queenie Grace turns and stampedes right back into the woods, crashing through branches.

  “Queenie Grace!” Henry Jack yells. “Stop!”

  She keeps going.

  “We’ve got to get her!” Henry Jack says. “Come on!”

  Queenie Grace tramples loudly through the woods, right in the direction of the three men and the campfire. We chase after her.

  “Stop,” hisses Henry Jack. “Stop, Queenie Grace.”

  But the elephant doesn’t listen. We run fast as we can after her, but she just keeps on going and next thing you know, we’re at the fire. The flames light Queenie Grace’s face.

  “Hey!” yells Mike. “There it is! What the heck …”

  The man Gus jumps up. He lunges for Queenie Grace. So do Mike, and Charlie, the three of them all going at once for Queenie Grace. Three grown men against one old elephant.

&
nbsp; I draw in a breath, terrified. I try to grab Henry Jack.

  But he’s moving too fast. Henry Jack leaps forward, jumping on Mike’s back.

  “Get off me!” Mike yells. The man Gus raises his fist and I see three letters tattooed into his knuckles: G U S.

  “Don’t hit the kid!” Charlie shouts. “What do you want, to get arrested?”

  I’m screaming and screaming, and finally realize that I do have a phone for emergencies. And this is an emergency. But then I remember: the phone is only for text messages. You can’t exactly text 911.

  Queenie Grace knocks Gus to the ground with her trunk. Henry Jack scrambles up; so does Mike.

  “Get him!” Mike yells. Charlie wraps an arm around Henry Jack’s waist, holding him tight.

  Queenie Grace whacks Charlie with her trunk, and then she puts one foot on the man Gus, pinning him to the ground, protecting Henry Jack and protecting herself and protecting me. You can tell that she’s not placing much weight on Gus. She’s just keeping him down.

  She keeps him there, on the ground, in the woods.

  Queenie Grace Is Afraid

  I am afraid! This man Gus smells like danger.

  I lift my trunk and I whack Charlie, hard on the back. I hit him so hard and fast, and something falls from his hand.

  The man Gus raises his fist at me.

  That’s when Henry Jack leaps forward like a wildcat. He leaps on Mike’s back and makes him fall to the ground.

  “Get off me!” Mike yells.

  I lift one foot, raise my hoof, and I hold the man Gus tight to the ground. I push just hard enough to keep him down, but not to hurt him. I pin that bad man to the ground and I don’t budge.

  Queenie Grace Saves Me

  Charlie is still holding Henry Jack, despite the whack from Queenie Grace.

  “Run, Lily!” Henry Jack yells. “Get out of here! Go get help!”

  I don’t want to run. I don’t want to leave Queenie Grace and Henry Jack with these three men.

  “Lily, run!” Henry Jack says, teeth clenched. Charlie’s arms are circling his waist. Henry Jack kicks, and spits.

  So I do. I run. I have never been so scared in my entire life. It’s like fear struck my body like lightning. I’m wheezing so bad. I can hardly breathe. I can hardly run anymore.