One Amazing Elephant

by Linda Oatman High

  My grandmother’s eyebrows lift as she listens. Her cheeks make apples in her face. She holds one hand to her heart.

  “Yes?” she says. “Oh my goodness! Oh, I can’t even believe that!”

  Trullia and I watch her, mouthing the word “What?”

  My grandmother holds up a finger. Her face shines.

  “How did you know?” she asks, then listens with shimmering eyes, nodding.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you so much for letting me know.”

  I look at Trullia.

  “What?” she says to Grandma. “What happened?”

  Grandma holds up her index finger again. She looks as if she wants to kiss the phone.

  “Thank you,” she says. “I swear, this is the best news ever.”

  Grandma hangs up. She beams, and her face looks as if it’s going to explode with gladness.

  “The suspense is killing us,” says my mother.

  “What?” I ask. “We’re dying here.”

  My grandmother just smiles, so big. Her eyes shine full of light, and she does her little dance move with jazz hands.

  “Queenie Grace is just fine,” she says. “Actually, she’s great. They finally got her to move out of the trailer, and you will not believe what happened.”

  Grandma actually bounces with excitement.

  “What? What?”

  My grandmother’s eyes brim.

  “When Queenie Grace finally decided to leave the trailer, there was another elephant who came running so fast,” Grandma says. “Queenie Grace and this elephant obviously knew and loved each other, they say, and they went crazy with joy. They say you can always tell by the behavior and the reactions, even if the elephants met many years ago. And there’s a certain way that mother elephants act with their young… .”

  I catch my breath, and Grandma puts her arm around me.

  “Queenie Grace had a baby,” she says, “many years ago. The elephant experts think that this other elephant may be that baby.”

  “Wow,” Trullia says. She runs both hands through her hair. “Wow!”

  I don’t even know what to say. I’m so thrilled for Queenie Grace. And for the one that they think is her baby, because every baby deserves a mom who loves it.

  “So … now what?” asks Trullia.

  “Well, Queenie Grace will be staying there with her baby,” states Grandma. “Forever. Nobody will ever separate them again.”

  “Oh,” I say, “I wish I could meet the baby. And say good-bye to Queenie Grace.”

  “You will, honey,” Grandma Violet says. “I already thought of that. We’ll go see them before your flight home.”

  My heart lifts like wings. I’m so happy I could fly.

  Queenie Grace and Little Gray Are Staying Together

  Little Gray and I are going to stay together! They say that this nice place of elephants is now our home, and that the people we love will visit a lot. They will visit soon.

  Little Gray and I stand side by side, touching always, never letting go. We are staying together … forever. I can’t wait for her to meet my family … our family.

  Flying and Hugging a Lion

  It’s Sunday, the morning of New Year’s Eve, and I have to wait until tomorrow to see Queenie Grace and her baby.

  “I can’t wait!” I say to Grandma and Trullia. “Today’s going to go so slow. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “You know what they say: Patience is a virtue,” Grandma says, making air quotes. She’s frying eggs, wearing her SpongeBob nightshirt.

  “Well, I have an offer from Faith that will help you pass the time,” says Trullia. “She wants you to come to trapeze school today. She wants to teach you trapeze. Free. She’s a better teacher than me, much more patient.”

  “Uh, cool? But … what if I can’t? What if I’m afraid?”

  “You’ll be fine,” says Trullia with a grin. “Just throw your heart over the bar and your body will follow.”

  So here I am: in a majestic red tent all set up for teaching trapeze. “Trapeze arts,” as Faith says. Faith shimmers in a glittery silver costume, and Henry Jack is here, too.

  “Why didn’t you come over last night?” I ask him. “You missed all the TV people.”

  “What do you think I am, crazy?” replies Henry Jack. “I’m in the public eye enough. I didn’t want to be on TV. No way.”

  I laugh, punch him lightly in the arm.

  “Coward,” I say.

  “Who’s the one afraid of everything?” asks Henry Jack.

  “Not me,” I say, as Faith hands me a costume in my size. It’s glittery green, like Magic Mountain in summer, like Henry Jack’s eyes.

  “I’m not afraid,” I say, feeling the cool green of the sequined costume. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  So I change into my costume, feeling a little silly in the outfit.

  “You’re gorgeous, Lily!” Faith says when I come out of the cramped dressing room.

  “Yeah,” Henry Jack agrees. “You look pretty cool. Like you actually maybe know what you’re doing on the trapeze.”

  “No clue,” I say. “That’s why we have Faith.”

  First thing we do is called ground school. Faith teaches me all about how to stretch, the importance of listening to her for commands, how and when to tuck my knees.

  “Now for your safety belt,” Faith says, cinching me tight into a harness thing.

  “Ow,” I say. “It’s tight.”

  “Believe me,” says Faith, “you don’t want a loose belt when you’re dangling up there in space.”

  I look up at the bar, the trapeze, the ceiling of the high tent. My heart skitters.

  “Okay,” I say. “I guess you’re right.”

  Faith brings out a piece of wood.

  “This is the same size as the platform up there,” she says. “You’re going to practice with ‘Ready’ and ‘Hup!’ Once you’ve got that down pat, you’ll practice pulling your knees through that low trapeze.”

  Faith points to a trapeze not much higher than me.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “It gets easier when you’re high up. The force of the swing makes it simpler to get your knees through. Then next thing you know, you’ll be flying!”

  An hour later, Faith still has me practicing climbing the ladder and doing this routine again and again. I know it by heart:

  Swing out. Tuck knees, swing from trapeze. Let go of the bar with my hands. Look back with hands out, like waiting to be caught. Grab the bar; take off my knees. Keep legs straight behind. Quickly move forward, back, forward! Tuck knees; release! Fall into the net.

  “The net will always catch you,” says Faith. “It’s all about trust.”

  Later Faith says I’m ready for catch school.

  “Um, what’s that?” I ask as Henry Jack grins and pumps his fist.

  “That’s where I fly on that trapeze, and you fly on that one,” Faith explains.

  Faith points to the bars on either end of the tent, the wire stretched between them. This quivery wire looks way too thin, the bars not strong. My heart thuds.

  “You’ll fly, I’ll fly, we’ll meet in the middle, and you’ll let go. You’ll just trust me and let go, and I’ll catch you.”

  “Uh, but what if you don’t?” The world inside the tent spins dizzy.

  “I’ll catch you,” says silvery Faith with a big smile. “But don’t forget, there’s the net. There’s always the net.”

  I climb the ladder, step onto the platform. Breathe. Take a big breath, breathe again. I reach out and grab the bar, put my body over the lower bar. I throw my heart over the bar and my body follows, just like Trullia says.

  Another breath, a glance down at Henry Jack. Faith yells, “Ready! Go!”

  And so I do. I go. I fly. I let go with my hands and I reach out for Faith. She catches me and we swing, flying high. My stomach is in my head; my head is in the sky; my heart swoops.

  I am flying.

  And
as I fly, I catch a glimpse of someone who has come into the tent to watch. It’s my mother, her face lit up with pride.

  “You did great,” Henry Jack says as we walk back toward Grandma’s house after my trapeze lessons. “You weren’t even scared.”

  “I was, just a little bit. But I tried to fight it.”

  Henry Jack nods, flipping back his hair.

  “That’s all it takes sometimes,” he says.

  George is walking toward us, all jaunty in his blue jeans and beret.

  “Hey, kiddos!” he calls.

  “Hey, George,” Henry Jack and I answer in unison. We all stop and give one another high fives. Except for George and us, it’s more of a low five.

  “What are you two up to?”

  “Oh, just passing time until we go see Queenie Grace and her baby,” I say. “I learned to fly! Henry Jack’s mom gave me trapeze lessons.”

  “Fabulous,” George says. “I’m just heading home to take care of Boldo and give him his medicine. Hey, why don’t you guys stop by? Old Boldo loves company, and he especially loves the young’uns.”

  “Sure,” says Henry Jack, while I hesitate.

  “Um, I’m kind of scared of lions,” I say.

  George smiles.

  “Boldo will fix that,” he says.

  I think for a minute. I need to be brave, to push past my fear. And, what the heck, I’ve already learned to fly today!

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  And so I’m in George’s tiny trailer, petting an enormous lazy lion. Boldo has green and yellow eyes and soft fur, and he moves his head like a gigantic cat as I scratch him behind his ears. He looks hypnotized, so relaxed, and that makes me relax, too.

  “He’s really sweet,” I say, as Boldo gazes up at me and presses his huge head to my chest. His fur feels like my favorite winter coat.

  “Of course he’s sweet,” says George. “He’s my baby.”

  “I didn’t know wild lions could be this tame,” I say.

  “If you work with them and give them love,” he replies, “they will give you love in return.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Too old. He may not have much longer,” George replies, his eyes sad. George reaches out and strokes Boldo’s head.

  “Awwwww. He’s so nice. It’s not fair,” I say.

  “But he’s had a great life,” George says. “He’s loved and been loved, and isn’t that all that any of us could want, before we leave this earth behind?”

  “Yep,” says Henry Jack, “my brother was really loved, too. And he loved us.”

  I swallow hard. I feel so bad that Henry Jack lost his twin.

  “You get it, kid,” says George. “Life is short, ya know? So you just gotta go for it. Seize the day! Leap for joy! Eat ice cream!”

  Boldo is making this contented growly purr, rubbing his head against me.

  “Want a Boldo hug?” George says to me.

  I don’t even have to think about it.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Stand up. Get ready for the best hug of your life.”

  I pull away from Boldo and stand up. The lion does, too.

  “Hug,” George says to the lion. “Hug Lily.”

  And he does. Boldo the lion jumps up and puts his front paws on my shoulders; I fall back a little from his weight, and George supports me from behind. And then Boldo pulls me into the softest, furriest, best hug ever. It’s tight and fluffy and Boldo is huge, full of power and wildness, but I’m not one bit scared.

  I hug him back.

  Queenie Grace’s New Year’s Eve

  I know that this night is New Year’s Eve, and I know that some people like to make a big deal. I used to like how Bill went outside at midnight and yelled at the sky. “Happy New Year!” he’d shout. “May all good things come to us this year!”

  All good things have already come to me. I raise my eyes to the sky, and I send a silent thank-you to my mahout. I do believe that Bill had something to do with this reunion, even though we can no longer see him.

  Bill the Giant still works his magic.

  New Year’s Eve

  New Year’s Eve, and Grandma has pointy hats and noisemakers and big silly red glasses with the numbers of the new year.

  “And we’ll do a toast to the brand-new year at midnight,” Grandma says. She has plastic champagne glasses and sparkling grape juice already set out on the kitchen table. “Bill used to go outside and yell at the sky. Maybe we’ll do that, too.”

  Finally, it’s midnight. We strap on the cardboard hats and we wear the crazy glasses and we blow the noisemakers. Grandma and Trullia and Henry Jack and me: it’s our own private little party.

  “May the new year bring better things and many blessings,” Grandma says as we all lift our plastic glasses in a toast.

  “Cheers,” Trullia says. “To good news! To mother-daughter reunions! To elephant-daughter reunions!”

  We clink our plastic glasses and drink the carbonated grape juice. And then, at five minutes past midnight, Henry Jack and I go outside.

  “May all good things come to us this year!” I shout at the sky, looking up.

  A few neighbors are doing fireworks, and the sky lights up with color and explosions.

  “Isn’t it against the law to do those on your own?” I ask.

  Henry Jack laughs.

  “Yeah,” he says. “But nobody in Gibtown really cares, obviously.”

  Mary the Bearded Lady is outside, holding a single sparkler. It lights her face, her beard bushy in the glow.

  “Happy New Year’s, Mary!” Henry Jack calls, and she walks over to where the two yards meet.

  “Happy New Year’s to you,” she says. The sparkler sizzles and then fizzles out, going dark. She places it on the ground.

  “It’s hot,” she says. “Don’t touch it.”

  “I know,” Henry Jack says. “My mom and I do these all the time, for special celebrations.”

  “Well,” says Mary, “I don’t feel like there’s too much to celebrate right now, but sometimes you just have to make half an effort. Because what else can you do?”

  “Some good news is that Queenie Grace found a baby she had years ago,” I say. “I guess you’ve heard.”

  Mary nods. She tries to smile.

  “I heard. It’s all over Gibtown,” she says. “I’m happy for them. They deserve that.”

  “We’re going to see them tomorrow,” Henry Jack says. “The sanctuary wanted us to give it a day for them to get reacquainted and reunite in private.”

  “We can’t wait to see them,” I say. “That’ll be a great way to start the new year.”

  Mary nods, sighs.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I don’t know how my new year’s going to go. With Charlie gone and all. He just up and left, after that arrest. Him and Mike both. I’ve never been alone before, so this is all new to me.”

  Henry Jack and I say nothing. The fireworks have stopped; the sky is silent.

  “Sometimes life brings surprises,” says Mary. “Not all of them good.”

  I step closer to Mary the Bearded Lady. Her voice and face seem brave, but her eyes brim with sorrow.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry about your husband leaving.”

  Inside, I’m thinking, You’re better off without that horrible man, and so are your dogs.

  But I don’t say that. Instead, I just reach over with both arms and embrace Mary.

  The three little dogs push open the screen door and bound joyfully into the yard. They are not wearing tutus.

  Mary hugs me back, and I can feel both the appreciation and the grief in her large and soft body.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever let him come back here,” she mumbles, “but I’ll forgive. I’ll have to forgive him or it’ll just eat me up on the inside.”

  I nod. I know all about that.

  Looking Up

  We see fireworks in the nighttime: Little Gray and I. The bursts of light and noise symbo
lize celebration and new beginnings and hope.

  We both raise our eyes to the sky. Sometimes looking up is the best thing you can do.

  Room to Roam

  On Monday morning, the first day of the brand-new year, we pile in the car for the drive to the elephant sanctuary: Trullia, Grandma, Henry Jack, and me. We’re all bubbling with excitement, even Trullia.

  It’s a short drive north, just ten miles, and we can hardly contain our smiles. We sing along with the radio, all of us car-dancing, the windows open and blowing our hair.

  And finally … there it is. Looming like Oz.

  “Oh,” breathes Grandma Violet when we see the sign: Room to Roam Elephant Sanctuary.

  We get out of the car, walking all full of wonder and discovery, like Dorothy and the Scarecrow and the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. I guess I’m Dorothy. Grandma’s the Lion, searching for the courage to be alone without Grandpa Bill. Henry Jack is the Scarecrow, but he already has a great brain behind that wrinkled face. And Trullia? Well, she’d be the Tin Man … maybe getting her heart. Finally.

  “We’re off to see the elephants,” I sing to the tune from the Wizard of Oz movie. “The wonderful elephants of Us. Queenie Grace and Baby.”

  Grandma and Trullia and Henry Jack play along, and we all skip as if we’re on the yellow brick road, heading for that beautiful city on the hill. Except there’s no wicked witch; no flying monkeys. Not anymore. All the fear is gone.

  This place is so pretty: overflowing with leafy trees, explosions of brilliant flowers, lush green grass. It smells like Florida, but mixed in with a little bit of wild. Two huge red barns, some rainbow-painted buildings, plenty of room to graze and play. Lots of open land, spreading out as far as my eyes can see, leading to the edge of blue sky. Elephants are everywhere, dotting the horizon with gray. There are a few workers washing elephants, scrubbing them with big brushes in a water area that must be the elephant bath.

  “Wow,” says Henry Jack. “This is like a retirement community for rich people. The best of the best. Maybe they even have their own swimming pools!”

  “I bet they love it here,” I say.

  “Wonder where they are?” Trullia says.

  “What if we can’t recognize Queenie Grace?” I ask. “You know, like all the elephants look kind of alike?”