wondering
All night I lie awake, wondering about Ruby.
Has she already walked through a door like the one I’m facing?
Was she as scared as I am? Scared the way she must have been that day she fell in the hole?
I think of Ruby’s endless curiosity, and of the questions she loved to ask. Have you ever danced with a tiger, Ivan? Will your fur turn blue? Why doesn’t that little boy have a tail?
If Ruby were here with me, she’d be asking: What’s on the other side of the door, Ivan?
Ruby would want to know, and she would have been through that door by now.
ready
“Want to try again, Ivan?” Maya asks. I think of Ruby, and I tell myself it’s time.
The door opens.
outside at last
Sky.
Grass.
Tree.
Ant.
Stick.
Bird.
Dirt.
Cloud.
Wind.
Flower.
Rock.
Rain.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
oops
I sniff, approach, strut a bit, but the others don’t welcome me. They have sharp teeth and loud voices.
Did I do something wrong?
Kinyani chases me. She throws a stick at me. She corners me.
I know that she’s testing me to see if I’m a true silverback, one who can protect her family.
I cower and hide my eyes.
Maya lets me back into my cage.
what it was like
I lie awake and try to remember what it was like, being a gorilla.
How did we move? How did we touch? How did we know who was boss?
I try to think past the babies and the motorbikes and the popcorn and the short pants.
I try to imagine Ivan as he might have been.
pretending
The juvenile male approaches. He’s eyeing my food hungrily.
I imagine a different Ivan, my father’s son.
I grumble and swat and swagger. I beat my chest till the whole world hears.
Kinyani watches, and so do the others.
I move toward the young upstart, and he retreats.
Almost as if he believes I’m the silverback I’m pretending to be.
nest
I’m making a nest on the ground. It isn’t a true jungle nest. The leaves are inferior and the sticks are brittle. They snap when I weave them into place.
The others watch, grunting their disapproval: too small, too flimsy, an ugly thing to see.
But when I climb into that leafy cradle, it’s like floating on treetop mist.
more tv
Maya wants me to go back to my glass cage. I can tell, because she is tempting me toward the door with a trail of tiny marshmallows.
I try to ignore her. I don’t want to leave the outside. It’s a cloudless day, and I’ve found just the right spot for a nap. But I relent when she adds yogurt raisins to the trail. She knows my weaknesses all too well.
In the glass cage, the TV is on. It’s another nature show, jerky and unfocused.
I expect to see gorillas, but none appear.
I hear a shrill sound, like a toy trumpet.
My heart quickens.
I rush close to the screen, and there she is.
Ruby.
She is rolling in a lovely pool of mud with two other young elephants.
Another elephant approaches. She towers over Ruby. She strokes Ruby, nudges her. She makes soft noises.
They stand side by side, just the way Stella and Ruby used to do. Their trunks entwine. I see something new in Ruby’s eyes, and I know what it is.
It’s joy.
I watch the whole thing, and then Maya plays it again for me, and again. At last she turns off the TV and carries it out of the cage.
I put my hand to the glass. Maya looks over.
Thank you, I try to say with my eyes. Thank you.
it
Kinyani ambles toward me. She taps me on the shoulder and knuckle runs away.
I watch her, arms crossed over my chest. I’m careful not to make a sound.
I’m not sure what we’re doing.
She ambles back, shoves at me, dashes past. And then I realize what’s happening.
We’re playing.
We’re playing tag.
And I’m it.
romance
Make eye contact.
Show your form.
Strut.
Grunt.
Throw a stick.
Grunt some more.
Make some moves.
Romance is hard work.
It looks so easy on TV.
I’m not sure I will ever get the hang of it.
more about romance
I wish Bob were here. I could use some advice.
I try to recall all the romance movies we watched together.
I remember the talking, the hugging, the face licking.
I’m not very good at this.
But it’s fun trying.
grooming
Is there anything sweeter than the touch of another as she pulls a dead bug from your fur?
talk
Gorillas aren’t chatty, like humans, prone to gossip and bad jokes.
But now and again we swap a story under the sun.
One day it’s my turn.
I tell my troop about Mack and Ruby and Bob and Stella and Julia and George, about my mother and father and sister.
When I am done, they look away, silent.
Kinyani moves closer. Her shoulder brushes mine, and we let the sun soak into our fur. Together.
the top of the hill
I’ve explored every nook and cranny of this place, except for a hill at the far end where workers have been repairing a wall.
They’re finally gone. They’ve left behind fresh white brick and a mound of black dirt.
While the others laze in the morning sun, I want to explore the hilltop. They’ve been there before, and I have not. Everything is still fresh to my eyes.
I take my time going uphill, savoring the feel of grass on my knuckles. The breeze carries the shouts of children and the drowsy hum of bumblebees. Near the top of the hill is a low-limbed tree, the kind my sister would have loved.
The wall is endless, clean and white, stretching far down to the habitats beyond my own. It’s high and wide, carefully built to keep us in and others out.
This is, after all, still a cage.
It rained last night, and the pile of dirt is soft to the touch. I scoop up a handful and breathe in the loamy smell.
It’s a rich brown color, heavy and cool in my palm.
And the wall waits, like an endless blank billboard.
the wall
It’s a big wall.
But it’s a big pile of dirt, and I’m a big artist.
I slap handfuls of mud on the warm cement. I make a handprint.
I tap my nose with a muddy finger. I make a noseprint.
I slide my palms up and down. The mud is thick and hard to use. But I keep moving and scooping and spreading.
I don’t know what I’m making, and I don’t care. I make swoops and swirls and thick lines. Figures and shapes. Light and shadow.
I’m an artist at work.
When I’m done, I step back to admire my work. But it’s a large canvas, and I’d like to get a better view.
I go to the thick-limbed tree and grab the lowest branch. I try to swing my legs.
Umph. I land hard. I’m too big to climb, I suppose.
I try again anyway, and this time I pull myself onto the first limb, gasping for breath.
One more limb, two, and I can’t go any farther. Perched halfway up the tree, I see my troop, still dozing contentedly.
I take in the wall, splattered and splashed with mud. Not much color, but lots of movement. I like it. It feels dreamy and wild, like something Julia might have made.
/> From my seat in the tree, I can see beyond the wall. I see giraffes and hippos. I see deer with legs like delicate twigs. I see a bear snoozing in a hollow log.
I see elephants.
safe
She’s far away, belly deep in tall grass with others by her side.
Ruby.
“She’s here, Stella,” I whisper. “Ruby’s safe. Just like I promised.”
I call to Ruby, but the wind tugs at my words and I know she’ll never hear me.
Still, Ruby pauses for a second, her ears spread wide like tiny sails.
Then, with lumbering grace, she moves on through the grass.
silverback
It’s a cloudy evening, chill and drizzly. Dinner is on its way, but I don’t care.
At night we sleep in our den, but I’m always the last to head inside. I’ve been inside long enough.
This time of day, there aren’t many visitors. Just a few stragglers, leaning on the wall that separates us. They point, take a couple photos, then head over to the nearby giraffes.
One of the keepers is beckoning. Reluctantly I turn to go.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone running. I pause.
It’s a girl with dark hair, lugging a backpack. A man follows behind, racing to catch up.
“Ivan!” the girl yells. “Ivan!”
It’s Julia!
I scramble to the edge of the wide moat that skirts the wall.
Julia and George wave to me. I dash back and forth, hooting and grunting, doing a gorilla dance of happiness.
“Calm down,” says a voice. “You’re behaving like a chimp.”
I freeze.
A tiny, nut-brown, big-eared head pops out of Julia’s backpack.
“Nice place,” Bob says.
“Bob,” I say. “It’s really you.”
“In the flesh.”
“How … where…” I can’t seem to find any words.
“George’s job at the zoo doesn’t start till next month, so he and Julia made an agreement. She’s walking three extra dogs to cover my food. And get this: they’re all poodles.”
“You said you didn’t want a home,” I say.
“Yeah,” Bob says. “But Julia’s mom likes my company. So I figure I’m doing everybody a favor. It’s a win-win.”
Julia pushes Bob’s head back inside her backpack. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she reminds him.
“Ivan looks great, doesn’t he, Jules?” George asks. “Stronger. Happier, even.”
Julia holds up a little photo, but it’s too far away for me to see. “It’s Ruby, Ivan. She’s with other elephants now. Because of you.”
I know, I want to tell her. I saw with my own eyes.
We stare across the expanse that separates us. After a while, George pats Julia’s arm. “Time to go, Jules.”
Julia gives a wistful smile. “Bye, Ivan. Say hello to your new family.” She turns to George. “Thank you, Dad.”
“For what?”
“For—” She gestures toward me. “For this.”
They turn to leave. The lamps that light the zoo pathways blink on, blanketing the world with yellow light.
I can just make out Bob’s little head sticking out of Julia’s backpack. “You are the One and Only Ivan,” he calls.
I nod, then turn toward my family, my life, my home.
“Mighty Silverback,” I whisper.
Acknowledgments
My thanks to the talented folks at HarperCollins for their expertise and enthusiasm. A special shout-out to art director extraordinaire, Amy Ryan; to the incomparable Sarah Hoy for her lovely book design; and to copyeditor Renée Cafiero, the best in the biz.
Most of all, I’m indebted to Anne Hoppe, my remarkable editor, who has the ear of a poet, the eye of an artist, and the patience of a preschool teacher (and those are just a few of her superpowers). Thank you, Anne, for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you. Really.
To my parents, Roger and Suzanne; my siblings, Stu, Martha, and Lisa; my dear, old (but not that old!) friends Lisa Leach and Suzanne Hultman: I know how truly lucky I am to have you in my life.
And to Julia, Jake, and Michael: Humans have so many words, more than we truly need. Still, there are no words that can ever express how much I love you all.
About the Author
Katherine Applegate’s many books include the Roscoe Riley Rules chapter book series as well as the picture book The Buffalo Storm. Her novel Home of the Brave was a School Library Journal Best Book of the Year and won both the Golden Kite Award and the Josette Frank Award for best children’s fiction. With her husband, Michael Grant, she wrote the bestselling series Animorphs, which has sold more than 35 million copies worldwide.
Katherine lives in California with her husband, two children, and an assortment of beloved, if eccentric, pets. You can visit her on the web at www.katherineapplegate.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Author’s Note
The One and Only Ivan is a work of fiction, but the inspiration for this imagined tale lies in a true story.
Ivan, a real gorilla, now lives at Zoo Atlanta, but on the way to that happy ending, he spent almost three decades without seeing another of his own kind.
After being captured as an infant in what is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo (Ivan’s twin sister died en route to the U.S. or shortly thereafter), Ivan was raised in a home until he became unmanageable. At that point he was added to an odd collection of animals housed at a circus-themed mall in Washington state.
Ivan spent twenty-seven years of his life alone in a cage. Over time, as an understanding of primate needs and behavior grew, public discomfort with Ivan’s lonely state grew as well, particularly after he was featured in a National Geographic special entitled The Urban Gorilla. A public outcry followed, including heartfelt letters from children. When the mall where Ivan lived went bankrupt, he was placed on permanent loan to Zoo Atlanta, which houses the largest group of captive western lowland gorillas in the nation.
Ivan is now a beloved celebrity at Zoo Atlanta, where he lives contentedly with Kinyani and other gorillas. He’s known for his paintings, which are often “signed” with his thumbprint.
Ivan and Kinyani are real gorillas—and so, by the way, is Jambo, whose story Stella tells to Ivan and Bob. But all other characters and situations in this novel are entirely the product of my imagination. When I started to write about the grim facts of Ivan’s solitary existence, a new tale slowly began to take shape. At least on the page, where anything is possible, I wanted to give Ivan (even while captive behind the walls of his tiny cage) a voice of his own and a story to tell. I wanted to give him someone to protect, and the chance to be the mighty silverback he was always meant to be.
Credits
Cover art © 2012 by Patricia Castelao
Cover design by Sarah Hoy
Copyright
The One And Only Ivan
Text copyright © 2012 by Katherine Applegate
Illustrations © 2012 by Patricia Castelao
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Applegate, Katherine.
The one and only Ivan / by Katherine Applegate.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When Ivan, a gorilla who has lived for years in a down-and-out circus-themed mall, meets Ruby, a bab
y elephant that has been added to the mall, he decides that he must find her a better life.
ISBN 978-0-06-199225-4 (trade bdg.)—ISBN 978-0-06-213579-7 (int. ed.)
EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062101983
[1. Gorilla—Fiction. 2. Elephants—Fiction. 3. Animals—Treatment—Fiction.]
I. Patricia Castelao , ill. II. Title.
PZ7.A6483On 2011 2011010034
[Fic]—dc22 CIP
AC
12 13 14 15 16 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
About the Publisher
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