introductions

  When I awake the next morning, I see a little trunk poking out between the bars of Stella’s domain.

  “Hello,” says a small, clear voice. “I’m Ruby.” She waves her trunk.

  “Hello,” I say. “I’m Ivan.”

  “Are you a monkey?” Ruby asks.

  “Certainly not.”

  Bob’s ears perk up, although his eyes stay closed. “He’s a gorilla,” he says. “And I am a dog of uncertain heritage.”

  “Why did the dog climb your tummy?” Ruby asks.

  “Because it’s there,” Bob murmurs.

  “Is Stella awake?” I ask.

  “Aunt Stella’s asleep,” Ruby says. “Her foot is hurting, I think.”

  Ruby turns her head. Her eyes are like Stella’s, black and long-lashed, bottomless lakes fringed by tall grass. “When is breakfast?” she asks.

  “Soon,” I say. “When the mall opens and the workers come.”

  “Where”—Ruby twists her head in the other direction—“where are the other elephants?”

  “It’s just you and Stella,” I say, and for some reason, I feel we have let her down.

  “Are there more of you?”

  “Not,” I say, “at the moment.”

  Ruby picks up a piece of hay and considers it. “Do you have a mom and a dad?”

  “Well … I used to.”

  “Everyone has parents,” Bob explains. “It’s unavoidable.”

  “Before the circus, I used to live with my mom and my aunts and my sisters and my cousins,” Ruby says. She drops the hay, picks it up, twirls it. “They’re dead.”

  I don’t know what to say. I am not really enjoying this conversation, but I can see that Ruby isn’t done talking. To be polite, I say, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ruby.”

  “Humans killed them,” she says.

  “Who else?” Bob asks, and we all fall silent.

  stella and ruby

  All morning, Stella strokes Ruby, pats her, smells her. They flap their ears. They rumble and roar. They sway as if they’re dancing. Ruby clings to Stella’s tail. She slips under Stella’s belly.

  Sometimes they just lean into each other, their trunks twirled together like jungle vines.

  Stella looks so happy. It’s more fun to watch than any nature show I’ve ever seen on TV.

  home of the one and only ivan

  George and Mack are out by the highway. I can see them through one of my windows. They are next to each other on tall wooden ladders, leaning against the billboard that tells the cars to stop and visit the One and Only Ivan, Mighty Silverback.

  George has a bucket and a long-handled broom. Mack has pieces of paper. He slaps one against the billboard. George dips the broom into the bucket. He wets the paper with the liquid from the bucket, and somehow the paper stays in place.

  They put up many pieces before they are done.

  When they climb down from the ladders, I see that they’ve added a picture of a little elephant to the billboard. The elephant has a lopsided smile. She is wearing a red hat, and her tail curls like a pig’s. She doesn’t look like Ruby. She doesn’t even look like an elephant.

  I’ve only known Ruby one day, and I could have drawn her better.

  art lesson

  Ruby asks a lot of questions. She says, “Ivan, why is your tummy so big?” and “Have you ever seen a green giraffe?” and “Can you get me one of those pink clouds that the humans are eating?”

  When Ruby asks, “What is that on your wall?” I explain that it’s a jungle. She says the flowers have no scent and the waterfall has no water and the trees have no roots.

  “I am aware of that,” I say. “It’s art. A picture made with paint.”

  “Do you know how to make art?” Ruby asks.

  “Yes, I do,” I say, and I puff up my chest, just a little. “I’ve always been an artist. I love drawing.”

  “Why do you love it?” Ruby asks.

  I pause. I’ve never talked to anyone about this before. “When I’m drawing a picture, I feel … quiet inside.”

  Ruby frowns. “Quiet is boring.”

  “Not always.”

  Ruby scratches the back of her neck with her trunk. “What do you draw, anyway?”

  “Bananas, mostly. Things in my domain. My drawings sell at the gift store for twenty-five dollars apiece, with a frame.”

  “What’s a frame?” Ruby asks. “What’s a dollar? What’s a gift store?”

  I close my eyes. “I’m a little sleepy, Ruby.”

  “Have you ever driven a truck?” Ruby asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “Ivan?” Ruby asks. “Can Bob fly?”

  A memory flashes past, surprising me. I think of my father, snoring peacefully under the sun while I try every trick I know to wake him.

  Perhaps, I realize, he wasn’t really such a sound sleeper after all.

  treat

  “How’s that foot, old girl?” George asks Stella.

  Stella pokes her trunk between the bars. She inspects George’s right shirt pocket for the treat he brings her every night without fail.

  George doesn’t always bring me treats. Stella’s his favorite, but I don’t mind. She’s my favorite too.

  Stella sees that George’s pocket is empty. She gives George a frustrated nudge with her trunk, and Julia giggles.

  Stella moves to George’s left pocket and discovers a carrot. Nimbly she removes it.

  Mack walks past. “Toilet’s plugged up in the men’s bathroom,” he says. “Big mess.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” George sighs.

  Mack turns to leave. “Um, before you go, Mack,” George says, “you might want to take a look at Stella’s foot. I think it’s infected again.”

  “Darn thing never does heal up right.” Mack rubs his eyes. “I’ll keep an eye on it. Money’s tight, though. Can’t be calling the vet every time she sneezes.”

  George strokes Stella’s trunk. She inspects his pockets one more time, just in case.

  “Sorry, girl,” George says, as he watches Mack walk away.

  elephant jokes

  “Ivan? Bob?”

  I blink. The dawn sky is a smudge of gray flecked with pink, like a picture drawn with two crayons. I can just make out Ruby in the shadows, waving hello with her trunk.

  “Are you awake?” Ruby asks.

  “We are now,” says Bob.

  “Aunt Stella’s still asleep and I don’t want to wake her ’cause she said her foot was hurting but I’m really, really”—Ruby pauses for a breath—“really bored.”

  Bob opens one eye. “You know what I do when I’m bored?”

  “What?” Ruby asks eagerly.

  Bob closes his eye. “I sleep.”

  “It’s a little early, Ruby,” I say.

  “I’m used to getting up early.” Ruby wraps her trunk around one of the bars on her door. “At my old circus we always got up when it was still dark and then we had breakfast and we walked in a circle. And then they chained my feet up, and that really hurt.”

  Ruby falls silent. Instantly Bob is snoring.

  “Ivan?” Ruby asks. “Do you know any jokes? I especially like jokes about elephants.”

  “Um. Well, let me see. I heard Mack tell one once.” I yawn. “Uhh … how can you tell that an elephant has been in the refrigerator?”

  “How?”

  “By the footprints in the butter.”

  Ruby doesn’t react. I sit up on my elbows, trying not to disturb Bob. “Get it?”

  “What’s a refrigerator?” Ruby asks.

  “It’s a human thing, a cold box with a door. They put food inside.”

  “They put food in the door? Or food in the box? And is it a big box?” Ruby asks. “Or a little box?”

  I can see this is going to take a while, so I sit up all the way. Bob slides off, grumbling.

  I reach for my pencil, the one I snapped in half with my teeth. “Here,” I say, “I’ll draw you a pic
ture of one.”

  In the dim light, it takes me a minute to find a piece of the paper Julia gave me. The page is a little damp and has a smear of something orange on it. I think it’s from a tangerine.

  I try my best to make a refrigerator. The broken pencil is not cooperating, but I do what I can.

  By the time I’m done, the first streaks of morning sun have appeared in flashy cartoon colors. I hold up my picture for Ruby to see.

  She studies it intently, her head turned so that one black eye is trained on my drawing. “Wow. You made that! Is this the thing you were telling me about before? Art?”

  “Sure is. I can draw all kinds of things. I’m especially good at fruit.”

  “Could you draw a banana right now?” Ruby asks.

  “Absolutely.” I turn the paper over and sketch.

  “Wow,” Ruby says again in an awed voice when I hold up the page. “It looks good enough to eat!”

  She makes a happy, lilting sound, an elephant laugh. It’s like the song of a bird I recall from long ago, a tiny yellow bird with a voice like dancing water.

  Strange. I’d forgotten all about that bird, how she’d wake me every morning at dawn, when I was still curled safely in my mother’s nest.

  It’s a good feeling, making Ruby laugh, so I draw another picture, and another, along the edges of the paper: an orange, a candy bar, a carrot.

  “What are you two up to?” Stella asks, moaning as she tries to move her sore foot.

  “How are you this morning?” I ask.

  “Just feeling my age,” Stella says. “I’m fine.”

  “Ivan is making me pictures,” Ruby says. “And he told me a joke. I really like Ivan, Aunt Stella.”

  Stella winks at me. “Me too,” she says.

  “Ivan? Want to hear my favorite joke?” Ruby asks. “I heard it from Maggie. She was one of the giraffes in my old circus.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “It goes like this.” Ruby clears her throat. “What do elephants have that nothing else has?”

  Trunks, I think, but I don’t answer because I don’t want to ruin Ruby’s fun.

  “I don’t know, Ruby,” I reply. “What do elephants have that nothing else has?”

  “Baby elephants,” Ruby says.

  “Good one, Ruby,” I say, watching Stella stroke Ruby’s back with her trunk.

  “Good one,” Stella says softly.

  children

  Once I asked Stella if she’d ever had any babies.

  She shook her head. “I never had the opportunity.”

  “You would have made a great mother,” I told her.

  “Thank you, Ivan,” Stella said, clearly pleased. “I like to think so. Having young ones is a big responsibility. You have to teach them how to take mud baths, of course, and emphasize the importance of fiber in their diet.” She looked away, contemplating.

  Elephants are excellent at contemplating.

  “I think the hardest part of being a parent,” Stella added after a while, “would be keeping your babies safe from harm. Protecting them.”

  “The way silverbacks do in the jungle,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Stella nodded.

  “You would have been good at protecting, too,” I said confidently.

  “I’m not so sure,” Stella said, gazing at the iron bars surrounding her. “I’m not sure at all.”

  the parking lot

  Mack and George are chatting while George cleans one of my windows.

  “George,” Mack says, frowning, “there’s something wrong with the parking lot.”

  George sighs. “I’ll take a look as soon as I’m done with this window. What’s the problem?”

  “There are cars in it, that’s what’s wrong. Cars, George!” Mack breaks into a grin. “I think things are actually starting to pick up a bit. It’s gotta be the billboard. People see that baby elephant and they just have to stop and spend their hard-earned cash.”

  “I hope so,” George says. “We sure could use the business.”

  Mack’s right. I have noticed more visitors coming since he and George added the picture of Ruby to the sign. People crowd around Ruby and Stella’s domain, oohing and ahhing at the sight of a such a tiny elephant.

  I gaze out at the huge sign that makes humans stop and spend their hard-earned cash. I have to admit that the picture of Ruby is rather cute, even if she doesn’t look like a real elephant.

  I wonder if Mack could add a little red hat and a curly tail to the picture of me. Maybe then more visitors would stop by my domain.

  I could use a few oohs and ahhs myself.

  ruby’s story

  “Ivan, tell me another joke, please!” Ruby begs after the two-o’clock show.

  “I think I may have run out of jokes,” I admit.

  “A story, then,” Ruby says. “Aunt Stella’s sleeping. And there’s nothing to do.”

  I tap my chin. I’m trying hard to think. But when I gaze up at the food court skylight, I’m mesmerized by the elephant-colored clouds galloping past.

  Ruby taps her foot impatiently. “I know! I’ll tell you a story,” she says. “A real live true one.”

  “Good idea,” I say. “What’s it about?”

  “It’s about me.” Ruby lowers her voice. “It’s about me and how I fell into a hole. A big hole. Humans dug it.”

  Bob pricks his ears and joins me by the window. “I always enjoy a good digging story,” he says.

  “It was a big hole full of water near a village,” Ruby says. “I don’t know why humans made it.”

  “Sometimes you just need to dig for the sake of digging,” Bob reflects.

  “We were looking for food,” Ruby says, “my family and I. But I wandered off and got lost and went too close to the village.” Ruby looks at me, eyes wide. “I was so scared when I fell into that hole.”

  “Of course you were,” I say. “I would have been scared too.”

  “Me too,” Bob admits. “And I like holes.”

  “The hole was huge.” Ruby pokes her trunk between the bars and makes a circle in the air. “And guess what?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “The water was all the way up to my neck and I was sure I was going to die.”

  I shudder. “What happened then?” I ask.

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” Bob says darkly. “They captured her and put her in a box and shipped her off and here she is. Just like they did with Stella.” He pauses to scratch an ear. “Humans. Rats have bigger hearts. Roaches have kinder souls. Flies have—”

  “No, Bob!” Ruby interrupts. “You’re wrong. These humans helped me. When they saw I was trapped, they grabbed ropes and they made loops around my neck and my tummy. The whole entire village helped, even little kids and grandmas and grandpas, and they all pulled and pulled and…”

  Ruby stops. Her lashes are wet, and I know she must be remembering all the terrible feelings from that day.

  “… and they saved me,” she finishes in a whisper.

  Bob blinks. “They saved you?” he repeats.

  “When I was finally out, everyone cheered,” Ruby says. “And the children fed me fruit. And then all those humans led me back to my family. It took the whole day to find them.”

  “No way,” Bob says, still doubtful.

  “It’s true,” Ruby says. “Every word.”

  “Of course it’s true,” I say.

  “I’ve heard rescue stories like that before.” It’s Stella’s voice. She sounds weary. Slowly she makes her way over to Ruby. “Humans can surprise you sometimes. An unpredictable species, Homo sapiens.”

  Bob still looks unconvinced. “But Ruby’s here now,” he points out. “If humans are so swell, who did that to her?”

  I send Bob a grumpy look. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to keep quiet.

  Ruby swallows, and I’m afraid she’s going to cry. But when she speaks, her voice is strong. “Bad humans killed my family, and bad humans sent me here. But that day in the hole, it was humans who
saved me.” Ruby leans her head on Stella’s shoulder. “Those humans were good.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Bob says. “I just don’t understand them. I never will.”

  “You’re not alone,” I say, and I turn my gaze back to the racing gray clouds.

  a hit

  Stella’s foot hurts too much for her to do any hard tricks for the two-o’clock show. Instead, Mack pulls her, limping, into the ring, where she tracks a circle in the sawdust.

  Ruby clings to her like a shadow. Ruby’s eyes go wide when Snickers jumps on Stella’s back, then leaps onto her head.

  At the four-o’clock show, Stella can only get as far as the entrance to the ring. Ruby refuses to leave her side.

  At the seven-o’clock show, Stella stays in her domain. When Mack comes for Ruby, Stella whispers something in her ear. Ruby looks at her pleadingly, but after a moment, she follows Mack to the ring.