Lilly’s eyes stopped at the cash register where a wizened, old woman stood so still Lilly wondered if she was a statue. Lilly didn’t speak. How idiotic she would feel if Isadora and her mother walked in and caught her speaking to a statue.
Lilly stared. But before Lilly could see whether the statue was breathing, in which case it wouldn’t be a statue, the woman spoke. “You’ve come at last.”
“You knew I would be here?” asked Lilly. “How?”
“A little bird,” answered the woman with a crescent moon smile. Her eyes were the light blue of a robin’s egg. Her skin was tan from a long lifetime in the sun. Her face was striped with wrinkly lines. And she had so many crow’s feet it looked as though the crow had tap-danced around her eyes and mouth.
Lilly saw paper bags of monkey dung fertilizer piled on the floor. She lifted one to the counter and paid. “Wait,” the woman said, “I have a gift for you.”
Lilly looked at her in surprise. The woman moved her hand slowly toward the pocket of her vest and reached inside. The black vest was embroidered with bright threads winding their way from a moon into plants and animals below. Holding her cupped hand towards Lilly, the woman’s fingertips pressed together. Lilly noticed the woman’s fingers were arthritic and gnarled like the twisty claw of a bird. But they opened gracefully.
“Take these Bowku seeds,” said the woman.
Lilly looked at three specs in the woman’s hand. They looked disappointingly ordinary. They weren’t brightly colored or iridescent or glowing. They didn’t jump or gyrate or twist. They were miniscule, dirt brown, still and completely ordinary except for a quiet humming.
Lilly held out her hand. “Why are you giving them to me?”
“So you will discover how extraordinary the ordinary can grow to be,” the woman answered. “Please excuse me,” she added. “I must be going.” She shuffled toward the back room, leaving Lilly speechless.
Chapter 3
Lilly took the bag of monkey dung and set it down near her mother who was where Lilly had seen her last. Mrs. Wilder whispered to McMuggster, coaxing the ivy to grow. The crocodile’s tail was balding in spots where the greenery was too thin.
Leaves rustled. Lilly turned to see Olive land nearby. The parrot perched on the snout of a great green grizzly whose head was thrown back in a powerful but silent growl. The grizzly stood on hind legs stretching toward the sky.
Lilly wondered if she should try to speak to her mother again. Despite the breeze, the dark, dense vapor above her mother barely moved. Lilly held the seeds in her fist then opened her hand hoping her mother would look at them. “Do you think we could plant these, mother?” Lilly stood waiting.
“What?” murmured Mrs. Wilder. When she looked past Lilly with her dull, sad eyes, Lilly knew more certainly than ever that her mother simply could not talk to her.
Lilly’s mother saw the fertilizer. “Ah, monkey dung,” she murmured to herself.
Disappointed, Lilly stomped to her bedroom window. Olive flew alongside without a sound. As Lilly slipped over the windowsill, she threw the seeds behind her into the yard. “Extraordinary? Ordinary? It doesn’t matter,” grumbled Lilly. “I just want someone to talk to.”
Lilly didn’t notice the seeds buzzing as they speeded through the air. Nor was she aware that the seed Olive caught and swallowed tasted delightfully like a perfectly ripe pomegranate.
Lilly flung herself on her bed and picked up the parrot book. “Are you sure you’re a parrot, Olive? You’re not at all like the birds in this book,” complained Lilly.
“No apology!” answered a raspy voice. “I make no apology for who I am.”
Lilly sat up with a bolt. “Who said that?” she asked looking around.
“TIMMAA!” came a cry. “You were speaking to me, Lilly. Haven’t I always answered you? Yayayayaya.” Lilly stared at Olive. The old parrot was perched on the windowsill laughing.
Lilly was speechless. Fortunately, breathing is automatic or she might have stopped breathing, too. Olive, meanwhile, was preoccupied. Lilly thought Olive was dancing until she realized Olive was using her feet to make a small square of cloth into a miniature pouch.
“HOBO! Help fasten this hobo sack around my neck, would you, please, Lilly, dear?” The parrot rolled its r’s screaming, “Brrring strrring! Any bit of strrring will do.”
“S-s-s-s-s?” Lilly’s stutter sputtered out.
“Poor girl is stunned into silence,” said Olive, still speedily moving her feet. “THUNDER-STRRRUCK may be a better exprrression! Thunderstruck is an etymological root of stunned. Thunderstruck is also the orrrigin of astonish and astound. FLABBERGASTED! I’m partial to flabbergasted, myself.”
For a moment Lilly heard nothing. She felt as though she was underwater. She watched Olive’s beak move but heard nothing. Suddenly, Lilly realized Olive was speaking. Speaking her language. “Oh, talk again! Talk again! How did you do it, Olive?”
“DELICIOUS!” shouted the old bird. “It must be that delicious seed I ate.”
Lilly laughed. “This is wonderful, Olive!”
The bird screeched, “Misconceptions run amok!”
“Miss who?” asked Lilly.
“Misconceptions, mistakes, Lilly. You have made two mistakes!”
“I have?”
“Indeed,” said the parrot. “A rrrose by any other name is still a rose and would smell as sweet… eceteri, ecetera, eceterum… However, a rrrose would not ask to be called ‘rump roast,’ or ‘axle grease’ or ‘tongue-tied.’”
“Are you saying your name isn’t Olive?” asked Lilly.
“Exactly and directly rrright,” said the parrot. “My name is Professor Tobias RRRoufus-tailed Tuft.”
“But that’s a boy’s name.”
“TIMM-AHA! Your second mistake, Lilly… we parrots are pRRRivate. So, take my word, I am male.”
“Sorry, Oli- Do I really have to call you, Professor Rump-tail, er… ?”
“RRRoufus-tailed Tuft. I am the last of my kind.” He drew himself up to his full twelve inches. “My grrreat, grrreat, grrreat grandmother was taken as a specimen in the late 1800’s, poor parrot. When they never saw another RRRoufus-tailed Tuft again, they assumed we were extinct.”
“But you weren’t or you couldn’t be here,” said Lilly.
“RRRIGHT! Exactly and directly right. After they kidnapped my grreat, grreat, great grandmother, my family stayed high-nigh out of sight. TO THE CANOPY! THE CANOPY! We parrots like to nest in the top, on the highest branches of the highest trees.”
“I can’t believe I’m talking to you. And you’re talking to me. And we understand each other, Olive!” Realizing her mistake, Lilly apologized. “I’m sorry, ‘Professor’?”
“TOBIAS!” screeched the parrot. “You may call me, Tobias. Please help me with this sack.” Lilly pulled yarn from an old pompom hat and tied the ends of the sack closed while Tobias cautioned her not to peek inside. Lilly tied the sack around Tobias’ neck.
When Lilly finished helping Tobias, she jumped up. “There were three seeds. I have to find the others so Razz Ma Tazz or Lady or Janie can talk, too.” Lilly jumped out the window into the yard. She knelt and listened for the Bowku seeds. “They must be here,” she murmured to herself. “How many did you eat, Tobias?”
“Only one,” he answered honestly. Tobias marched through the uncut weeds neither listening nor looking for the seeds. He watched Razz Ma Tazz chase Lady the Duck. “RRREVOLTING! I can imagine what’s on that bird’s mind,” groaned Tobias. “I’ve been listening to him for years. His utterances are totally unsuitable for a girl your age. RRRECONSIDER! I do hope you’ll give it more thought, Lilly.”
Lilly, however, was determined. Giving up hope of finding Bowku seeds on the ground, Lilly announced, “I’m going back to the Garden Center for more!” This time Tobias went, too.
Lilly hurried to the Garden Center, chattering to Tobias, who sat silently on her shoulder. He had no intention of being heard by any person except L
illy.
Chapter 4
When Lilly rushed into the Garden Center, the only person she saw was a tall boy standing on the top rung of a short stepstool. He stopped stocking shelves and asked, “Can I help you?”
Lilly stared. The boy’s eyes were as shining and black as the onyx stones Lilly liked to hold in her hands after a rainstorm. His hair was darker. But his most distinctive feature by far was his tail.
His tail was covered in a dark, silky fur and stuck out nearly eighteen inches through the seat of his jeans. It curled up like a constant smile or a miniature jump rope always at the ready. Lilly had never seen anything like it before except on an animal.
Tobias leaned in very close and whispered into her ear. “Lilly, you are much too polite to stare so. At least close your mouth.”
“I-I-I need…” Lilly stammered, then stopped.
“Animal, mineral or vegetable?” asked the boy.
“A man is an animal,” declared Lilly, not making any sense.
“That’s true,” said the boy. “Even George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.”
Having turned completely around to face Lilly, the boy’s tail was now out of sight. Lilly spoke despite feeling scattered, “I need to speak to the woman who was working here earlier.” Tobias sat quietly on Lilly’s shoulder.
“You must mean my mother. She’s out for a few minutes,” said the boy. “Maybe I can help you.”
“She couldn’t have been your mother,” said Lilly shaking her head. “Unless your mother is over a hundred years old.”
“You saw an old woman working here? I don’t think so. My mother and I were the only ones here all day. My mother is the new owner, but you can speak to me. I’m Dorian.”
Lilly frowned. “But I was here before and an old woman was working. You must have seen her. She was ancient. She reminded me of a bird. Except she didn’t have feathers or claws or a beak.” Lilly added this because she was speaking to a boy with a tail.
“Where was she?” asked Dorian stepping down from the ladder.
“At your cash register,” replied Lilly.
Dorian made a beeline for the register and hit a button. The drawer sailed open. Lilly watched him lift the tray, count the money hidden underneath, murmur “phew,” and snap the tray shut. Lilly marveled that a person her own age could handle a cash register with such confidence. But it wasn’t nearly as marvelous as having a tail.
“Is anything wrong, Dorian?” asked a woman stepping in from the doorway. Dorian looked up from the register, slightly startled. Tobias gave a quick squawk and flew to the floor where he scavenged for loose seeds.
Lilly looked from the woman to Dorian and saw the same black, shining eyes. Without thinking, Lilly glanced at the woman’s hindquarters for evidence of a tail. A long raincoat hid the area from view. Lilly felt chagrined for looking.
“No, Mom,” said Dorian nervously. “Everything’s okay.” Dorian answered his mother quickly, too quickly. It gave Lilly the impression Dorian didn’t want his mother to know about the old woman Lilly had seen. That’s why she decided not to ask Dorian’s mother about the woman and the seeds for now.
Dorian’s mother knelt by Tobias. She picked a seed up off the floor and held it out to him. “Hello, old friend,” she said.
“He is ancient. His name is Tobias,” said Lilly.
“Nice to meet you, Tobias, and -- ?” she turned to Lilly.
“I’m Lilly. I come here to buy gardening stuff for my mother sometimes.”
“I’m Nadine Mynah and this is my son, Dorian.” Her black eyes shot into Lilly’s as they shook hands. Lilly was mesmerized for the moment.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Lilly. Dorian’s mother withdrew her piercing gaze and her hand and placed her purse on the counter.
“What grade are you in, Lilly?” asked Mrs. Mynah.
“Fifth.”
“Dorian is too. If you have time, maybe you could show Dorian around the town.”
Lilly wasn’t used to parents being friendly to her. When someone in Lilly’s class had a birthday party and invited everyone that meant everyone except Lilly.
“Uhm, okay,” said Lilly awkwardly. She didn’t know how to respond to Mrs. Mynah’s friendliness. “I guess you could come with me, Dorian. I have to go to the post office. I could show you where it is.”
“I know where the post office—“ Dorian started.
“You can check our mail while you’re there,” Mrs. Mynah interrupted. She smiled as she handed Dorian a sweatshirt and held open the door. Tobias flew over her head and landed on Lilly’s shoulder.
Dorian pulled on the sweatshirt. Lilly was relieved to see that the oversized sweatshirt covered his tail.
“Sorry about my mother being so pushy,” said Dorian when they were far enough away not to be overheard by her. “Everyone says she’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“At least she talks,” said Lilly. “My mother—well, never mind.” Lilly didn’t want to talk about her mother.
“Oh, and thanks for not telling my mother your story about the old woman.”
“It’s not a story, it’s true,” said Lilly. “Why don’t you want your mother to know?”
“Because if it happened, it happened when I accidentally locked myself in the backroom.”
“How did you get out?”
Dorian shrugged. “I don’t know. The same way I got in, I guess – accidentally. But I don’t want my mother to know. She thinks I’m too young to watch the store alone.”
As they reached the post office, Lilly said agreeably, “Okay, I’ll keep your secret.”
Inside Lilly went to the bulletin board first. Her PETS WANTED poster looked dog-eared. All the tabs with her phone number were torn off. The headline, “Want a loving home for your pet? Call Lilly” was crossed out and someone had written, “Want a haunted dog house? Call Lilly Liver.”
Lilly tore down the sign. “I’d better put up a new one.”
“Does anyone ever call you?” asked Dorian.
“Oh, yes. I take care of forty-nine animals if you count the fish, which I do.”
“How many parrots do you have?”
Lilly laughed. “Just one, but really he takes care of me.”
“Does he now, Miss Wilder?” Lilly jumped. She recognized the gravely voice unhappily and turned to see her teacher, Mr. Stinchfield, standing behind them. He stared at Tobias. Tobias stopped pacing along the white counter top to see who caused Lilly to frown. “He must be a very intelligent bird,” continued Mr. Stinchfield. “What kind is he?”
Lilly didn’t want to say Tobias was a Roofus Tailed-whatever or the last of his kind. She considered it personal information. But lying to her teacher was out of the question not because she wanted to be honest, Lilly was simply afraid of him. Instead of giving him an answer, Lilly gave him a petrified stare.
“Well, Miss Wilder, what kind is he?” insisted Mr. Stinchfield.
“A-a parrot?” Lilly stammered.
“Obviously. What species of parrot?” Mr. Stinchfield asked impatiently. He tried to lift Tobias’ wings. Tobias refused and turned away. Then he stared into Mr. Stinchfield’s two beady eyes with a beady eye of his own.
“A green parrot?” asked Lilly.
“All green parrots are not alike,” said Mr. Stinchfield, growing more annoyed.
“I can’t say exactly,” mumbled Lilly.
“I didn’t hear you,” breathed Mr. Stinchfield, clearly angry.
Lilly stared at her feet. She pressed her feet against the inside of her shoes. She felt the softness of her threadbare socks. She felt the sturdiness of her shoes against the solid floor.
Lilly breathed in deeply filling herself with her breath. Her breath flowed to the tips of her fingers and toes. Lilly breathed out. Her breath flowed out and floated away. With her breath, Lilly floated away.
Dorian and Mr. Stinchfield didn’t shout in surprise because they didn’t know. One of the best things about floating, th
ought Lilly, is that no one knows. Lilly’s body didn’t move. She stood in the same spot, feet planted, hands clasped. When Mr. Stinchfield and Dorian looked at Lilly, they may only have noticed she was staring an especially vacant stare.
“Cat has your tongue again, Miss Wilder? Well, never mind,” snorted Mr. Stinchfield. He walked out. Lilly breathed in slowly. She thought only about her breath. As her breath flowed in, Lilly slipped inside.
“Who was that?” asked Dorian. He stared through the large window at Mr. Stinchfield walking quickly down the street.
Tyger Lilly Page 2