The One and Only Ivan -...

KATHERINEAPPLEGATE

TheONEANDONLYIvan

illustrationsbyPatriciaCastelao

DedicationforJulia

Epigraph

Itisnevertoolatetobe

whatyoumighthavebeen.—GeorgeEliot

Glossary

chestbeat:repeatedslappingofthechestwithoneorbothhandsinordertogeneratealoudsound(sometimesusedbygorillasasathreatdisplaytointimidateanopponent)

domain:territory

theGrunt:snorting,piglikenoisemadebygorillaparentstoexpressannoyance

me-ball:driedexcrementthrownatobservers

9,855days(example):Whilegorillasinthewildtypicallygaugethepassingoftimebasedonseasonsorfoodavailability,Ivanhasadoptedatallyofdays.(9,855daysisequaltotwenty-sevenyears.)

Not-Tag:stuffedtoygorilla

silverback (also, less frequently, grayboss): an adultmale over twelve years oldwith an area ofsilverhaironhisback.Thesilverbackisafigureofauthority,responsibleforprotectinghisfamily.

slimychimp(slang;offensive):ahuman(referstosweatonhairlessskin)

vining:casualplay(areferencetovineswinging)

ContentsCoverTitlePageDedicationEpigraphGlossary

hellonamespatiencehowIlooktheexit8bigtopmallandvideoarcadethelittlestbigtoponearthgoneartistsshapesincloudsimaginationtheloneliestgorillaintheworldtvthenatureshowstellastella’strunkaplanbobwildpicassothreevisitorsmyvisitorsreturnsorryjuliadrawingbobbobandjuliamacknotsleepythebeetlechangeguessingjamboluckyarrivalstellahelpsoldnewstricksintroductionsstellaandruby

homeoftheoneandonlyivanartlessontreatelephantjokeschildrentheparkinglotruby’sstoryahitworrythepromiseknowingfivemencomfortcryingtheoneandonlyivanonceuponatimethegruntmudprotectoraperfectlifetheendvinethetemporaryhumanhungerstilllifepunishmentbabiesbedsmyplaceninethousandeighthundredandseventy-sixdaysavisitanewbeginningpoormackcolorsabaddreamthestoryhowrememberingwhattheydidsomethingelsetobuyanotherivandaysnightsprojectnotrightgoingnowherebadguys

adimaginingnot-tagonemorethingtheseven-o’clockshowtwelveHnervousshowingjuliamorepaintingschest-beatingangrypuzzlepiecesfinallythenextmorningmadhumanphonecallastaragaintheapeartistinterviewtheearlynewssignsonsticksprotesterscheckmarksfreerubynewboxtrainingpokingandproddingnopaintingmoreboxesgood-byeclickanidearespectphotoleavinggoodboymovingawakeningmissingfoodnotfamoussomethingintheairanewtvthefamilyexcitedwhatisee

stilltherewatchingshedoorwonderingreadyoutsideatlastoopswhatitwaslikepretendingnestmoretvitromancemoreaboutromancegroomingtalkthetopofthehillthewallsafesilverback

AcknowledgmentsAbouttheAuthorAuthor'sNoteCreditsCopyrightAboutthePublisher

IamIvan.Iamagorilla.

It’snotaseasyasitlooks.

PeoplecallmetheFreewayGorilla.TheApeatExit8.TheOneandOnlyIvan,MightySilverback.

Thenamesaremine,butthey’renotme.IamIvan,justIvan,onlyIvan.

Humanswastewords.Theytossthemlikebananapeelsandleavethemtorot.

Everyoneknowsthepeelsarethebestpart.

Isupposeyouthinkgorillascan’tunderstandyou.Ofcourse,youalsoprobablythinkwecan’twalkupright.

Tryknucklewalkingforanhour.Youtellme:Whichwayismorefun?

patience

I’ve learned tounderstandhumanwordsover theyears, butunderstandinghuman speech isnot thesameasunderstandinghumans.

Humansspeak toomuch.Theychatter likechimps,crowding theworldwith theirnoiseevenwhentheyhavenothingtosay.

It tookme some time to recognize all those human sounds, toweavewords into things.But Iwaspatient.

Patientisausefulwaytobewhenyou’reanape.

Gorillasareaspatientasstones.Humans,notsomuch.

howIlook

Iusedtobeawildgorilla,andIstilllookthepart.

I have a gorilla’s shy gaze, a gorilla’s sly smile. I wear a snowy saddle of fur, the uniform of asilverback.Whenthesunwarmsmyback,Icastagorilla’smajesticshadow.

Inmy size humans see a test of themselves. They hear fighting words on the wind, when all I’mthinkingishowthelate-daysunremindsmeofaripenectarine.

I’mmightierthananyhuman,fourhundredpoundsofpurepower.Mybodylooksmadeforbattle.Myarms,outstretched,spantallerthanthetallesthuman.

My family tree spreads wide as well. I am a great ape, and you are a great ape, and so arechimpanzeesandorangutansandbonobos,allofusdistantanddistrustfulcousins.

Iknowthisistroubling.

Itoofindithardtobelievethereisaconnectionacrosstimeandspace,linkingmetoaraceofill-manneredclowns.

Chimps.There’snoexcuseforthem.

theexit8bigtopmallandvideoarcade

I live in a human habitat called theExit 8BigTopMall andVideoArcade.We are convenientlylocatedoffI-95,withshowsattwo,four,andseven,365daysayear.

Macksaysthatwhenheanswersthetrillingtelephone.

Mackworkshereatthemall.Heistheboss.

Iworkheretoo.Iamthegorilla.

AttheBigTopMall,acreaky-musiccarouselspinsallday,andmonkeysandparrotsliveamidthemerchants.Inthemiddleofthemallisaringwithbencheswherehumanscansitontheirrumpswhiletheyeatsoftpretzels.Theflooriscoveredwithsawdustmadeofdeadtrees.

Mydomainisatoneendofthering.IliveherebecauseIamtoomuchgorillaandnotenoughhuman.

Stella’s domain is next tomine.Stella is an elephant. She andBob,who is a dog, aremydearestfriends.

Atpresent,Idonothaveanygorillafriends.

Mydomainismadeofthickglassandrustymetalandroughcement.Stella’sdomainismadeofmetalbars.Thesunbears’domainiswood;theparrots’iswiremesh.

Threeofmywallsareglass.Oneofthemiscracked,andasmallpiece,aboutthesizeofmyhand,ismissingfromitsbottomcorner.ImadetheholewithabaseballbatMackgavemeformysixthbirthday.Afterthathetookthebataway,butheletmekeepthebaseballthatcamewithit.

Ajunglescene ispaintedononeofmydomainwalls. Ithasawaterfallwithoutwaterandflowerswithoutscentandtreeswithoutroots.Ididn’tpaintit,butIenjoythewaytheshapesflowacrossmywall,evenifitisn’tmuchofajungle.

I am luckymydomainhas threewindowedwalls. I can see thewholemall andabitof theworldbeyond:thefranticpinballmachines,thepinkbillowsofcottoncandy,thevastandtreelessparkinglot.

Beyondthelotisafreewaywherecarsstampedewithoutend.Agiantsignatitsedgebeckonsthemtostopandrestlikegazellesatawateringhole.

Thesignisfaded,thecolorsbleeding,butIknowwhatitsays.Mackreaditswordsaloudoneday:“COMETOTHEEXIT8BIGTOPMALLANDVIDEOARCADE,HOMEOFTHEONEANDONLYIVAN,MIGHTYSILVERBACK!”

Sadly,Icannotread,althoughIwishIcould.Readingstorieswouldmakeafinewaytofillmyemptyhours.

Once,however,Iwasabletoenjoyabookleftinmydomainbyoneofmykeepers.

Ittastedliketermite.

ThefreewaybillboardhasadrawingofMackinhisclownclothesandStellaonherhindlegsandanangryanimalwithfierceeyesandunkempthair.

Thatanimalissupposedtobeme,buttheartistmadeamistake.Iamneverangry.

Angerisprecious.Asilverbackusesangertomaintainorderandwarnhistroopofdanger.Whenmyfatherbeathischest,itwastosay,Beware,listen,Iamincharge.Iamangrytoprotectyou,becausethatiswhatIwasborntodo.

Hereinmydomain,thereisnoonetoprotect.

thelittlestbigtoponearth

My neighbors here at the Big Top Mall know many tricks. They are an educated lot, moreaccomplishedthanIam.

Oneofmyneighborsplaysbaseball,althoughsheisachicken.Anotherdrivesafiretruck,althoughheisarabbit.

I used tohave aneighbor, a sleek and thoughtful seal,whocouldbalance aball onhernose fromdawntilldusk.Hervoicewaslikethethroatybarkofadogchainedoutsideonacoldnight.

Childrenwishedonpenniesandtossedthemintoherplasticpool.Theyglowedonthebottomlikeflatcopperstones.

Thesealwashungryoneday,orbored,perhaps,sosheateonehundredpennies.

Macksaidshe’dbefine.

Hewasmistaken.

Mackcallsourshow“TheLittlestBigToponEarth.”Everydayattwo,four,andseven,humansfanthemselves,drinksodas,applaud.Babieswail.Mack,dressed likeaclown,pedalsa tinybike.AdognamedSnickersridesonStella’sback.Stellasitsonastool.

Itisaverysturdystool.

Idon’tdoanytricks.Macksaysit’senoughformetobeme.

Stellatoldmethatsomecircusesmovefromtowntotown.Theyhavehumanswhodangleonropestwining from the tops of tents. They have grumbling lions with gleaming teeth and a snaking line ofelephants,eachclutchingthelimptailinfrontofher.Theelephantslookfaroffintothedistancesotheywon’tseethehumanswhowanttoseethem.

Ourcircusdoesn’tmigrate.Wesitwhereweare,likeanoldbeasttootiredtopushon.

Afterourshow,humansforage through thestores.Astore iswherehumansbuy things theyneed tosurvive.AttheBigTopMall,somestoressellnewthings,thingslikeballoonsandT-shirtsandcapstocover thegleamingheadsofhumans.Somestoressellold things, things thatsmelldustyanddampandlongforgotten.

Allday,Iwatchhumansscurryfromstoretostore.Theypasstheirgreenpaper,dryasoldleavesandsmellingofathousandhands,backandforthandbackagain.

Theyhuntfrantically,stalking,pushing,grumbling.Thentheyleave,clutchingbagsfilledwiththings—brightthings,softthings,bigthings—butnomatterhowfullthebags,theyalwayscomebackformore.

Humans are clever indeed. They spin pink clouds you can eat. They build domains with flat

waterfalls.

Buttheyarelousyhunters.

Someanimalsliveprivately,unwatched,butthatisnotmylife.

Mylifeisflashinglightsandpointingfingersanduninvitedvisitors.Inchesaway,humansflattentheirlittlehandsagainstthewallofglassthatseparatesus.

Theglasssaysyouarethisandwearethatandthatishowitwillalwaysbe.

Humansleavetheirfingerprintsbehind,stickywithcandy,slickwithsweat.Eachnightawearymancomestowipethemaway.

SometimesIpressmynoseagainsttheglass.Mynoseprint,likeyourfingerprint,isthefirstandlastandonlyone.

ThemanwipestheglassandthenIamgone.

artists

Hereinmydomain,Idonothavemuchtodo.Youcanonlythrowsomanyme-ballsathumansbeforeyougetbored.

Ame-ballismadebyrollingupdunguntilit’sthesizeofasmallapple,thenlettingitdry.Ialwayskeepafewonhand.

Forsomereason,myvisitorsneverseemtocarryany.

Inmydomain,Ihaveatireswing,abaseball,atinyplasticpoolfilledwithdirtywater,andevenanoldTV.

Ihaveastuffedtoygorilla,too.Julia,thedaughterofthewearymanwhocleansthemalleachnight,gaveittome.

Thegorillahasemptyeyesandfloppylimbs,butIsleepwithiteverynight.IcallitNot-Tag.

Tagwasmytwinsister’sname.

Juliaistenyearsold.Shehashairlikeblackglassandawide,half-moonsmile.SheandIhavealotincommon.Wearebothgreatapes,andwearebothartists.

ItwasJuliawhogavememyfirstcrayon,astubbyblueone,slippedthroughthebrokenspotinmyglassalongwithafoldedpieceofpaper.

Iknewwhattodowithit.I’dwatchedJuliadraw.WhenIdraggedthecrayonacrossthepaper,itleftatrailinitswakelikeaslitheringbluesnake.

Julia’s drawings arewildwith color andmovement. Shedraws things that aren’t real: clouds thatsmileandcars that swim.Shedrawsuntilhercrayonsbreakandherpaper rips.Herpicturesare likepiecesofadream.

Ican’tdrawdreamypictures. Inever remembermydreams,although I sometimesawakenwithmyfistsclenchedandmyhearthammering.

MydrawingsseempaleandtimidnexttoJulia’s.Shedrawstheideasinherhead.Idrawthethingsinmycage,simpleitemsthatfillmydays:anapplecore,abananapeel,acandywrapper.(IofteneatmysubjectsbeforeIdrawthem.)

ButeventhoughIdrawthesamethingsoverandoveragain,Inevergetboredwithmyart.WhenI’mdrawing,that’sallIthinkabout.Idon’tthinkaboutwhereIam,aboutyesterdayortomorrow.Ijustmovemycrayonsacrossthepaper.

Humansdon’talwaysseemtorecognizewhatI’vedrawn.Theysquint,cocktheirheads,murmur.I’lldrawabanana,aperfectlylovelybanana,andthey’llsay,“It’sayellowairplane!”or“It’saduckwithoutwings!”

That’sallright.I’mnotdrawingforthem.I’mdrawingforme.

Macksoonrealizedthatpeoplewillpayforapicturemadebyagorilla,eveniftheydon’tknowwhatitis.NowIdraweveryday.Myworkssellfortwentydollarsapiece(twenty-fivewithframe)atthegiftshopnearmydomain.

IfIgettiredandneedabreak,Ieatmycrayons.

shapesinclouds

IthinkI’vealwaysbeenanartist.

Even as a baby, still clinging tomymother, I had an artist’s eye. I saw shapes in the clouds, andsculpturesinthetumbledstonesatthebottomofastream.Igrabbedatcolors—thecrimsonflowerjustoutofreach,theebonybirdstreakingpast.

I don’t remembermuch aboutmy early life, but I do remember this:Whenever I got the chance, Iwoulddipmyfingersintocoolmudandusemymother’sbackforacanvas.

Shewasapatientsoul,mymother.

imagination

Someday,IhopeIcandrawthewayJuliadraws,imaginingworldsthatdon’tyetexist.

I knowwhatmost humans think. They think gorillas don’t have imaginations. They thinkwe don’trememberourpastsorponderourfutures.

Cometothinkofit,Isupposetheyhaveapoint.MostlyIthinkaboutwhatis,notwhatcouldbe.

I’velearnednottogetmyhopesup.

theloneliestgorillaintheworld

WhentheBigTopMallwasfirstbuilt, it smelledofnewpaintandfreshhay,andhumanscame tovisitfrommorningtillnight.Theydriftedpastmydomainlikelogsonalazyriver.

Lately, a daymight go bywithout a single visitor.Mack says he’sworried.He says I’m not cuteanymore.Hesays,“Ivan,you’velostyourmagic,oldguy.Youusedtobeahit.”

It’struethatsomeofmyvisitorsdon’tlingerthewaytheyusedto.Theystarethroughtheglass,theyclucktheirtongues,theyfrownwhileIwatchmyTV.

“Helookslonely,”theysay.

Not longago,a littleboystoodbeforemyglass, tearsstreamingdownhissmooth redcheeks.“Hemustbetheloneliestgorillaintheworld,”hesaid,clutchinghismother’shand.

Attimeslikethat,IwishhumanscouldunderstandmethewayIcanunderstandthem.

It’snotsobad,Iwantedtotellthelittleboy.Withenoughtime,youcangetusedtoalmostanything.

MyvisitorsareoftensurprisedwhentheyseetheTVMackput inmydomain.Theyseemtofinditodd,thesightofagorillastaringattinyhumansinabox.

SometimesIwonder,though:Isn’tthewaytheystareatme,sittinginmytinybox,justasstrange?

MyTVisold.Itdoesn’talwayswork,andsometimesdayswillgobybeforeanyonerememberstoturniton.

I’llwatchanything,butI’mparticularlyfondofcartoons,withtheirbrightjunglecolors.Iespeciallyenjoyitwhensomeoneslipsonabananapeel.

Bob,mydogfriend,lovesTValmostasmuchasIdo.Hepreferstowatchprofessionalbowlingandcat-foodcommercials.

BobandIhaveseenmanyromancemovies too.Inaromancethere ismuchhuggingandsometimesfacelicking.

Ihaveyettoseeasingleromancestarringagorilla.

WealsoenjoyoldWesternmovies.InaWestern,someonealwayssays,“Thistownain’tbigenoughforthebothofus,Sheriff.”InaWestern,youcantellwhothegoodguysareandwhothebadguysare,andthegoodguysalwayswin.

BobsaysWesternsarenothinglikereallife.

thenatureshow

Ihavebeeninmydomainforninethousandeighthundredandfifty-fivedays.

Alone.

Forawhile,whenIwasyoungandfoolish,IthoughtIwasthelastgorillaonearth.

Itriednottodwellonit.Still,it’shardstayupbeatwhenyouthinktherearenomoreofyou.

Thenonenight,afterIwatchedamovieaboutmeninblackhatswithgunsandfeeble-mindedhorses,adifferentshowcameon.

Itwasnotacartoon,notaromance,notaWestern.

Isawalushforest.Iheardbirdsmurmuring.Thegrassmoved.Thetreesrustled.

ThenIsawhim.Hewasbitthreadbareandscrawny,andnotasgood-lookingasIam,tobehonest.Butsureenough,hewasagorilla.

As suddenly as he’d appeared, the gorilla vanished, and in his place was a scruffy white animalcalled, I learned, a polar bear, and then a chubby water creature called a manatee, and then anotheranimal,andanother.

AllnightIsatwonderingaboutthegorillaI’dglimpsed.Wheredidhelive?Wouldheevercometovisit?Iftherewasahesomewhere,couldtherebeasheaswell?

Orwasitjustthetwoofusinalltheworld,trappedinourownseparateboxes?

stella

StellasayssheissureIwillseeanotherreal,livegorillasomeday,andIbelieveherbecausesheisevenolderthanIamandhaseyeslikeblackstarsandknowsmorethanIwilleverknow.

Stellaisamountain.NexttoherIamarock,andBobisagrainofsand.

Everynight,whenthestorescloseandthemoonwashestheworldwithmilkylight,StellaandItalk.

Wedon’thavemuchincommon,butwehaveenough.Wearehugeandalone,andwebothloveyogurtraisins.

SometimesStellatellsstoriesofherchildhood,ofleafycanopieshiddenbymistandthebusysongsofflowingwater.Unlikeme,sherecallseverydetailofherpast.

Stellalovesthemoon,withitsuntroubledsmile.Ilovethefeelofthesunonmybelly.

Shesays,“Itisquiteabelly,myfriend,”andIsay,“Thankyou,andsoisyours.”

Wetalk,butnottoomuch.Elephants,likegorillas,donotwastewords.

Stellaused toperformina largeandfamouscircus,andshestilldoessomeof those tricksforourshow.Duringonestunt,StellastandsonherhindlegswhileSnickersjumpsonherhead.

It’shardtostandonyourhindlegswhenyouweighmorethanfortymen.

Ifyouareacircuselephantandyoustandonyourhindlegswhileadogjumpsonyourhead,yougetatreat.Ifyoudonot,theclaw-stickcomesswinging.

Elephanthideisthickasbarkonanancienttree,butaclaw-stickcanpierceitlikealeaf.

OnceStella sawa trainerhit abull elephantwith a claw-stick.Abull is like a silverback,noble,contained,calmlikeacobraiscalm.Whentheclaw-stickcaughtinthebull’sflesh,hetossedthetrainerintotheairwithhistusk.

Themanflew,Stellasaid,likeanuglybird.Sheneversawthebullagain.

stella’strunk

Stella’s trunk isamiracle.Shecanpickupasinglepeanutwithelegantprecision, tickleapassingmouse,taptheshoulderofadozingkeeper.

Hertrunkisremarkable,butstillitcan’tunlatchthedoorofhertumble-downdomain.

CirclingStella’slegsarelong-agoscarsfromthechainssheworeasayouth:herbracelets,shecallsthem.Whensheworkedat thefamouscircus,Stellahad tobalanceonapedestal forhermostdifficulttrick. One day, she fell off and injured her foot. When she went lame and lagged behind the otherelephants,thecircussoldhertoMack.

Stella’s foot never healed completely. She limps when she walks, and sometimes her foot getsinfectedwhenshestandsinoneplacefortoolong.

Lastwinter,Stella’sfootswelledtotwiceitsnormalsize.Shehadafever,andshelayonthedamp,coldfloorofherdomainforfivedays.

Theywereverylongdays.

Evennow,I’mnotsureshe’scompletelybetter.Shenevercomplains,though,soit’shardtoknow.

AttheBigTopMall,noonebotherswithironshackles.Abristlyropetiedtoaboltinthefloorisallthat’srequired.

“TheythinkI’mtoooldtocausetrouble,”Stellasays.

“Oldage,”shesays,“isapowerfuldisguise.”

It’sbeentwodayssinceanyone’scometovisit.Mackisinabadmood.Hesayswearelosingmoneyhandoverfist.Hesaysheisgoingtosellthewholelotofus.

When Thelma, a blue and yellow macaw, demands “Kiss me, big boy” for the third time in tenminutes,Mackthrowsasodacanather.Thelma’swingsareclippedsothatshecan’tfly,butshestillcanhop.Sheleapsasidejustinthenickoftime.“Puckerup!”shesayswithashrillwhistle.

Mackstompstohisofficeandslamsthedoorshut.

Iwonderifmyvisitorshavegrowntiredofme.MaybeifIlearnatrickortwo,itwillhelp.

Humansdoseemtoenjoywatchingmeeat.Luckily,Iamalwayshungry.Iamagiftedeater.

A silverbackmust eat forty-five pounds of food a day if hewants to stay a silverback. Forty-fivepoundsoffruitandleavesandseedsandstemsandbarkandvinesandrottenwood.

Also,Ienjoytheoccasionalinsect.

Iamgoingtotrytoeatmore.Maybethenwewillgetmorevisitors.TomorrowIwilleatfiftypoundsoffood.Maybeevenfifty-five.

ThatshouldmakeMackhappy.

IexplainmyplantoBob.

“Ivan,”hesays,“trustmeonthisone:Theproblemisnotyourappetite.”Hehopsontomychestandlicksmychin,checkingforleftovers.

Bobisastray,whichmeanshedoesnothaveapermanentaddress.Heissospeedy,sowily,thatmallworkerslongagogaveuptryingtocatchhim.Bobcansneakintocracksandcreviceslikeatrackedrat.Heliveswellofftheendsofhotdogshepullsfromthetrash.Fordessert,helapsupspilledlemonadeandsplatteredicecreamcones.

I’vetriedtosharemyfoodwithBob,butheisapickyeaterandsayshepreferstohuntforhimself.

Bobis tiny,wiry,andfast, likeabarkingsquirrel.Heisnutcoloredandbigeared.Histailmoveslikeweedsinthewind,spiraling,dancing.

Bob’stailmakesmedizzyandconfused.Ithasmeaningswithinmeanings,likehumanwords.“Iamsad,”itsays.“Iamhappy.”Itsays,“Beware!Imaybetiny,butmyteetharesharp.”

Gorillasdon’thaveanyusefortails.Ourfeelingsareuncomplicated.Ourrumpsareunadorned.

Bobusedtohavethreebrothersandtwosisters.Humanstossedthemoutofatruckontothefreewaywhentheywereafewweeksold.Bobrolledintoaditch.

Theothersdidnot.

Hisfirstnightonthehighway,Bobsleptintheicymudoftheditch.Whenhewoke,hewassocoldthathislegswouldnotbendforanhour.

Thenextnight,BobsleptundersomedirtyhayneartheBigTopMallgarbagebins.

The following night, Bob found the spot in the corner ofmy domainwhere the glass is broken. IdreamedthatI’deatenafurrydoughnut,andwhenIwokeinthedark,Idiscoveredatinypuppysnoringontopofmybelly.

IthadbeensolongsinceI’dfeltthecomfortofanother’swarmththatIwasn’tsurewhattodo.NotthatIhadn’thadvisitors.Mackhadbeeninmydomain,ofcourse,andmanyotherkeepers.I’dseenmy

shareofratszippast,andtheoccasionalwaywardsparrowhadflutteredinthroughaholeinmyceiling.

Buttheyneverstayedlong.

Ididn’tmoveallnight,forfearofwakingBob.

OnceIaskedBobwhyhedidn’twantahome.Humans,I’dnoticed,seemtobeirrationallyfondofdogs,andIcouldseewhyapuppywouldbeeasiertocuddlewiththan,say,agorilla.

“Everywhereismyhome,”Bobanswered.“Iamawildbeast,myfriend:untamedandundaunted.”

ItoldBobhecouldworkintheshowslikeSnickers,thepoodlewhoridesStella.

BobsaidSnickerssleepsonapinkpillowinMack’soffice.Hesaidsheeatsfoul-smellingmeatfromacan.

Hemadeaface.Hislipscurled,revealingtinyneedlesofteeth.

“Poodles,”hesaid,“areparasites.”

picasso

Mack givesme a fresh crayon, a yellow one, and ten pieces of paper. “Time to earn your keep,Picasso,”hemutters.

IwonderwhothisPicassois.Doeshehaveatireswinglikeme?Doesheevereathiscrayons?

IknowIhavelostmymagic,soItrymyverybest.Iclutchthecrayonandthink.

Iscanmydomain.Whatisyellow?

Abanana.

Idrawabanana.Thepapertears,butonlyalittle.

I leanback,andMackpicksupthedrawing.“Anotherday,anotherscribble,”hesays.“Onedown,ninetogo.”

Whatelseisyellow?Iwonder,scanningmydomain.

Idrawanotherbanana.AndthenIdraweightmore.

threevisitors

Threevisitorsarehere:awoman,aboy,agirl.

Istrutacrossmydomainforthem.Idanglefrommytireswing.Ieatthreebananapeelsinarow.

Theboyspitsatmywindow.Thegirlthrowsahandfulofpebbles.

SometimesI’mgladtheglassisthere.

myvisitorsreturn

Aftertheshow,thespit-pebblechildrencomeback.

Idisplaymyimpressiveteeth.Isplashinmyfilthypool.Igruntandhoot.Ieatandeatandeatsomemore.

Thechildrenpoundtheirpatheticchests.Theytossmorepebbles.

“Slimychimps,”Imutter.Ithrowame-ballatthem.

SometimesIwishtheglasswerenotthere.

I’msorryIcalledthosechildrenslimychimps.

Mymotherwouldbeashamedofme.

Likethespit-pebblechildren,Juliaisachild,butthat,afterall,isnotherfault.

Whileherfather,George,cleansthemalleachnight,Juliasitsbymydomain.Shecouldsitanywhereshewants: by the carousel, in the empty food court, on the bleachers coated in sawdust.But I amnotbraggingwhenIsaythatshealwayschoosestositwithme.

Ithinkit’sbecausewebothlovetodraw.

Sara,Julia’smother,usedtohelpcleanthemall.Butwhenshegotsickandgrewpaleandstooped,Sara stopped coming. Every night Julia offers to help George, and every night he says firmly,“Homework,Julia.Thefloorswilljustgetdirtyagain.”

Homework,Ihavediscovered,involvesasharppencilandthickbooksandlongsighs.

Ienjoychewingpencils.IamsureIwouldexcelathomework.

Sometimes Juliadozesoff, and sometimes she readsherbooks, butmostly shedrawspictures andtalksaboutherday.

I don’t know why people talk to me, but they often do. Perhaps it’s because they think I can’tunderstandthem.

Orperhapsit’sbecauseIcan’ttalkback.

Julialikesscienceandart.Shedoesn’tlikeLilaBurpee,whoteasesherbecauseherclothesareold,andshedoeslikeDeshawnWilliams,whoteaseshertoo,butinaniceway,andshewouldliketobeafamousartistwhenshegrowsup.

SometimesJuliadrawsme.Iamanelegantfellowinherpictures,withmysilverbackgleaminglikemoononmoss.Ineverlookangry,thewayIdoonthefadingbillboardbythehighway.

Ialwayslookabitsad,though.

drawingbob

IloveJulia’spicturesofBob.

Shedrawshimflyingacrossthepage,abluroffeetandfur.Shedrawshimmotionless,peekingoutfrombehindatrashcanorthesofthillofmybelly.Sometimesinherdrawings,JuliagivesBobwingsoralion’smane.Onceshegavehimatortoiseshell.

Butthebestthingsheevergavehimwasn’tadrawing.JuliagaveBobhisname.

ForalongtimenooneknewwhattocallBob.Nowandthenamallworkerwouldtrytoapproachhimwitha tidbit.“Here,doggie,” they’dcall,holdingoutaFrenchfry.“Comeon,pooch,” they’dsay.“Howaboutalittlepieceofsandwich?”

Buthewouldalwaysvanishintotheshadowsbeforeanyonecouldgettooclose.

Oneafternoon,Juliadecided todrawthe littledogcurledup in thecornerofmydomain.Firstshewatchedhimforalongtime,chewingonherthumbnail.Icouldtellshewaslookingathimthewayanartistlooksattheworldwhenshe’stryingtounderstandit.

Finallyshegrabbedherpencilandsettowork.Whenshewasfinished,sheheldupthepage.

Therehewas,thetiny,big-eareddog.Hewassmartandcunning,buthisgazewaswistful.

Under thepicturewere threebold, confidentmarks, circled inblack. Iwaspretty certain itwas aword,eventhoughIcouldn’treadit.

Julia’s father peered over her shoulder. “That’s him exactly,” he said, nodding.He pointed to thecircledmarks.“Ididn’trealizehisnamewasBob,”hesaid.

“Meeither,”saidJulia.Shesmiled.“Ihadtodrawhimfirst.”

bobandjulia

Bobwillnotlethumanstouchhim.Hesaystheirscentupsetshisdigestion.

ButeverynowandthenIseehimsittingatJulia’sfeet.Herfingersmovegently,justbehindhisrightear.

UsuallyMackleavesafterthelastshow,buttonightheisinhisofficeworkinglate.Whenhe’sdone,hestopsbymydomainandstaresatmeforalongtimewhilehedrinksfromabrownbottle.

Georgejoinshim,broominhand,andMacksaysthethingshealwayssays:“Howaboutthatgamelastnight?” and “Business has been slow, but it’ll get better, you’ll see,” and “Don’t forget to empty thetrash.”

MackglancesoveratthepictureJuliaisdrawing.“What’reyoumaking?”heasks.

“It’sformymom,”Juliasays.“It’saflyingdog.”Sheholdsupherdrawing,eyeingitcritically.“Shelikesairplanes.Anddogs.”

“Hmm,” Mack murmurs, sounding unconvinced. He looks at George. “How’s the wife doing,anyway?”

“Aboutthesame,”Georgesays.“Shehasgooddaysandbaddays.”

“Yeah,don’tweall,”Macksays.

Mackstarts to leave, thenpauses.He reaches intohispocket,pullsout a crumpledgreenbill, andpressesitintoGeorge’shand.

“Here,”Macksayswithashrug.“Buythekidsomemorecrayons.”

MackisalreadyoutthedoorbeforeGeorgecanyell“Thanks!”

notsleepy

“Stella,”IsayafterJuliaandherfathergohome,“Ican’tsleep.”

“Ofcourseyoucan,”shesays.“Youarethekingofsleepers.”

“Shh,”Bobsaysfromhisperchonmybelly.“I’mdreamingaboutchilifries.”

“I’mtired,”Isay,“butI’mnotsleepy.”

“Whatareyoutiredof?”Stellaasks.

Ithinkforawhile.It’shardtoputintowords.Gorillasarenotcomplainers.We’redreamers,poets,philosophers,naptakers.

“Idon’tknowexactly.”Ikickatmytireswing.“IthinkImaybealittletiredofmydomain.”

“That’sbecauseit’sacage,”Bobtellsme.

Bobisnotalwaystactful.

“Iknow,”Stellasays.“It’saverysmalldomain.”

“Andyou’reaverybiggorilla,”Bobadds.

“Stella?”Iask.

“Yes?”

“Inoticedyouwerelimpingmorethanusualtoday.Isyourlegbotheringyou?”

“Justalittle,”Stellaanswers.

Isigh.Bobresettles.Hisearsflick.Hedroolsabit,butIdon’tmind.I’musedtoit.

“Tryeatingsomething,”Stellasays.“Thatalwaysmakesyouhappy.”

Ieatanold,browncarrot.Itdoesn’thelp,butIdon’ttellStella.Sheneedstosleep.

“Youcouldtryrememberingagoodday,”Stellasuggests.“That’swhatIdowhenIcan’tsleep.”

Stella remembers everymoment since shewasborn: every scent, every sunset, every slight, everyvictory.

“YouknowIcan’tremembermuch,”Isay.

“There’sadifference,”Stellasaysgently,“between‘can’tremember’and‘won’tremember.’”

“That’strue,”Iadmit.Notrememberingcanbedifficult,butI’vehadalotoftimetoworkonit.

“Memories are precious,” Stella adds. “They help tell us whowe are. Try remembering all yourkeepers.YoualwayslikedKarl,theonewiththeharmonica.”

Karl.Yes.IrememberhowhegavemeacoconutwhenIwasstillajuvenile.It tookmealldaytoopenit.

ItrytorecallotherkeepersIhaveknown—thehumanswhocleanedmydomainandpreparedmyfoodand sometimes kept me company. There was Juan, who poured Pepsis into my waiting mouth, andKatrina,whousedtopokemewithabroomwhenIwassleeping,andEllen,whosang“HowMuchIsThatMonkeyintheWindow?”withasadsmilewhileshescrubbedmywaterbowl.

AndtherewasGerald,whooncebroughtmeaboxoffat,sweetstrawberries.

Geraldwasmyfavoritekeeper.

Ihaven’thada realkeeper ina long time.Macksayshedoesn’thave themoney topayforanapebabysitter.Thesedays,GeorgecleansmycageandMackistheonewhofeedsme.

WhenIthinkaboutallthepeoplewhohavetakencareofme,mostlyit’sMackIrecall,dayinanddayout,yearafteryearafteryear.Mack,whoboughtmeandraisedmeandsaysI’mnolongercute.

Asifasilverbackcouldeverbecute.

Moonlight fallson thefrozencarousel,on thesilentpopcornstand,on thestallof leatherbelts thatsmelllikelong-gonecows.

TheheavyworkofStella’sbreathingsoundslikethewindintrees,andIwaitforsleeptofindme.

thebeetle

Mackgivesmeanewblackcrayonandafreshpileofpaper.It’stimetoworkagain.

Ismellthecrayon,rollitinmyhands,pressthesharppointagainstmypalm.

There’snothingIlovemorethananewcrayon.

Isearchmydomainforsomethingtodraw.Whatisblack?

Anoldbananapeelwouldwork,butI’veeatenthemall.

Not-Tagisbrown.Mylittlepoolisblue.TheyogurtraisinI’msavingforthisafternooniswhite,atleastontheoutside.

Somethingmovesinthecorner.

Ihaveavisitor!

Ashinybeetlehasstoppedby.Bugsoftenwanderthroughmydomainontheirwaytosomewhereelse.

“Hello,beetle,”Isay.

Hefreezes,silent.Bugsneverwanttochat.

Thebeetle’sanattractivebug,withabodylikeaglossynut.He’sblackasastarlessnight.

That’sit!I’lldrawhim.

It’shard,makingapictureofsomethingnew.Idon’tgetthechancethatoften.

ButItry.Ilookatthebeetle,who’sbeingkindenoughnottomove,thenbackatmypaper.Idrawhisbody,hislegs,hislittleantennae,hissourexpression.

I’mlucky.Thebeetlestaysallday.Usuallybugsdon’tlingerwhentheyvisit.I’mbeginningtowonderifhe’sfeelingallright.

Bob,who’sbeenknowntomunchonbugsfromtimetotime,offerstoeathim.

ItellBobthatwon’tbenecessary.

I’mjustfinishingmylastpicturewhenMackreturns.GeorgeandJuliaarewithhim.

Mackentersmydomainandpicksupadrawing.“What theheck is this?”heasks.“BeatsmewhatIvanthinkshe’sdrawing.Thisisapictureofnothing.Abig,blacknothing.”

Julia’sstandingjustoutsidemydomain.“CanIsee?”sheasks.

Mackholdsmypictureupto thewindow.Julia tiltsherhead.Shesqueezesoneeyeshut.Thensheopenshereyeandscansmydomain.

“Iknow!”sheexclaims.“It’sabeetle!SeethatbeetleovertherebyIvan’spool?”

“Man,Ijustsprayedthisplaceforbugs.”Mackwalksovertothebeetleandliftshisfoot.

BeforeMackcanstomp,thebeetleskittersaway,disappearingthroughacrackinthewall.

Mackturnsbacktomydrawings.“Soyoufigurethisisabeetle,huh?Ifyousayso,kid.”

“Oh,that’sabeetleforsure,”Juliasays,smilingatme.“IknowabeetlewhenIseeone.”

It’snice,Ithink,havingafellowartistaround.

change

Stellaisthefirsttonoticethechange,butsoonweallfeelit.

AnewanimaliscomingtotheBigTopMall.

Howdoweknowthis?Becausewelisten,wewatch,andmostofall,wesnifftheair.

Humansalwayssmelloddwhenchangeisintheair.

Likerottenmeat,withahintofpapaya.

guessing

Bobfearsournewneighborwillbeagiantcatwithslittedeyesandacoiledtail.ButStellasaysatruckwillarrivethisafternooncarryingababyelephant.

“Howdoyouknow?”Iask.Isampletheair,butallIsmelliscaramelcorn.

Ilovecaramelcorn.

“Icanhearher,”Stellasays.“She’scryingforhermother.”

Ilisten.Ihearthecarschargingpast.Ihearthesnoreofthesunbearsintheirwiredomain.

ButIdon’thearanyelephants.

“You’rejusthoping,”Isay.

Stellacloseshereyes.“No,”shesayssoftly,“nothoping.Notatall.”

MyTVisoff,sowhilewewaitforthenewneighbor,IaskStellatotellusastory.

Stellarubsherrightfrontfootagainstthewall.Herfootisswollenagain,anuglydeepred.

“Ifyou’renotfeelingwell,Stella,”Isay,“youcouldtakeanapandtellusastorylater.”

“I’mfine,”shesays,andshecarefullyshiftsherweight.

“TellustheJambostory,”Isay.It’safavoriteofmine,butIdon’tthinkBobhaseverheardit.

Because she remembers everything, Stella knows many stories. I like colorful tales with blackbeginningsandstormymiddlesandcloudlessblue-skyendings.Butanystorywilldo.

I’mnotinapositiontobepicky.

“Once upon a time,”Stella begins, “therewas a humanboy.Hewas visiting a gorilla family at aplacecalledazoo.”

“What’sazoo?”Bobasks.He’sastreet-smartdog,butthere’smuchhehasn’tseen.

“Agoodzoo,”Stellasays,“isalargedomain.Awildcage.Asafeplacetobe.Ithasroomtoroamand humans who don’t hurt.” She pauses, considering her words. “A good zoo is how humans makeamends.”

Stellamovesabit,groaningsoftly.“Theboystoodonawall,”shecontinues,“watching,pointing,buthelosthisbalanceandfellintothewildcage.”

“Humansareclumsy,”Iinterrupt.“Ifonlytheywouldknucklewalk,theywouldn’ttopplesooften.”

Stella nods. “Agoodpoint, Ivan. In any case, the boy lay in amotionless heap,while the humansgaspedandcried.Thesilverback,whosenamewasJambo,examinedtheboy,aswashisduty,whilehistroopwatchedfromasafedistance.

“Jambostrokedthechildgently.Hesmelledtheboy’spain,andthenhestoodwatch.

“Whentheboyawoke,hishumanscriedout, ‘Staystill!Don’tmove!’because theywerecertain—humansarealwayscertainaboutthings—thatJambowouldcrushtheboy’slifefromhim.

“Theboymoaned.Thecrowdwaited,hushed,expectingtheworst.

“Jamboledhistroopaway.

“Mencamedownonropesandwhiskedthechildtowaitingarms.”

“Wastheboyallright?”Bobasks.

“Hewasn’thurt,”Stellasays,“althoughIwouldn’tbesurprisedifhisparentshuggedhimmanytimesthatnight,inbetweentheirscoldings.”

Bob,whohasbeenchewinghistail,pauses,tiltinghishead.“Isthatatruestory?”

“Ialwaystellthetruth,”Stellareplies.“AlthoughIsometimesconfusethefacts.”

I’veheardtheJambostorymanytimes.Stellasaysthathumansfounditoddthatthehugesilverbackdidn’tkilltheboy.

Why,Iwonder,wasthatsosurprising?Theboywasyoung,scared,alone.

Hewas,afterall,justanothergreatape.

Bobnudgesmewithhiscoldnose.“Ivan,”hesays,“whyaren’tyouandStellainazoo?”

IlookatStella.Shelooksatme.Shesmilessadlywithhereyes,justalittle,thewayonlyelephantscando.

“Justlucky,Iguess,”shesays.

arrival

Thenewneighborarrivesafterthefour-o’clockshow.

Whenthetruckcomeslumberingtowardtheparkinglot,Bobscampersovertoinformus.

Bobalwaysknowswhat’shappening.He’sausefulfriendtohave,especiallywhenyoucan’tleaveyourdomain.

Withagroan,Mack lifts theslidingmetaldoornear the foodcourt, theplacewheredeliveriesaremade.

Abigwhitetruckisbackinguptothedoor,belchingsmoke.Whenthedriveropensthetruck,IknowthatStellaisright.

Ababyelephantisinside.Iseehertrunk,pokingoutfromtheblackness.

I’mgladforStella.ButwhenIglanceather,Iseesheisnotgladatall.

“Stand back, everyone!”Mack yells. “We’ve got a new arrival. This is Ruby, folks. Six hundredpoundsoffuntosaveoursorrybutts.Thisgalisgonnasellussometickets.”

Mackandtwomenclimbintotheblackcaveofthetruck.Wehearnoise,scuffling,awordMackuseswhenhe’sangry.

Rubymakesanoisetoo,likeoneofthelittletrumpetstheysellatthegiftstore.

“Move,”Macksays,butstillthereisnoRuby.“Move,”hesaysagain.“Wehaven’tgotallday.”

Insideherdomain,Stellapacesasmuchasshe’sable:twostepsoneway,twostepstheother.Sheslapshertrunkagainstrustymetalbars.Shegrumbles.

“Stella,”Iask,“didyouhearthebaby?”

Stellamutterssomethingunderherbreath,awordsheuseswhenshe’sangry.

“Relax,Stella,”Isay.“Itwillbeokay.”

“Ivan,”Stellasays,“itwillnever,everbeokay,”andIknowenoughtostoptalking.

stellahelps

Themenarestillyelling.Someoftheyellingisateachother,butmostofitisatRuby.

Wehearscrambling,pounding,shifting.Thesideofthetruckshudders.

“I’mstartingtolikethiselephant,”Bobwhispers.

“I’mgettingthebigone,”Macksays.“Maybeshecancoaxthestupidbratoutofthetruck.”

MackopensStella’sdoor.“Comeon,girl,”heurges.Heuntiestheropeattachedtothefloorbolt.

Stella pushes past Mack, nearly knocking him over. She rushes as best she can, limping heavily,towardtheopenbackdoorofthetruck.Shecatchesherswollenfootontheedgeoftherampandwinces.Bloodtricklesdown.

Halfwayuptherampshepauses.Thenoiseinthetruckstops.Rubyfallssilent.

SlowlyStellamakesherwayuptherestoftheramp.Itgroansunderherweight,andIcantellhowmuchsheishurtingbytheawkwardwayshemoves.

Atthetopoftheinclineshestops.Shepokeshertrunkintotheemptiness.

Wewait.

The tiny gray trunk appears again. Shyly it reaches out, tasting the air. Stella curls her own trunkaroundthebaby’s.Theymakesoftrumblingsounds.

Wewaitsomemore.AhushfallsovertheentireBigTopMall.

Thud.Thud.Step,step,pause.Step,step,pause.

And thereshe is, sosmallshecanfitunderneathStellawithroomtospare.Herskinsags,andsheswaysunsteadilyasshemakesherwaydowntheramp.

“Notthegreatestspecimen,”Macksays,“butIgothercheapfromthisbankruptcircusoutwest.Theyhad her shipped over fromAfrica.Only had her amonth before theywent bust.”He gestures towardRuby.“Thingis,peoplelovebabies.Babyelephants,babygorillas,heck,givemeababyalligatorandIcouldmakeakilling.”

Stella ushers Ruby toward her domain. Mack and the two men follow. At Stella’s door, Rubyhesitates.

MackgivesRubyashove,butshedoesn’tbudge.“Doggoneit,getaclue,Ruby,”hemutters,butRubyisn’tmoving,andneitherisStella.

Mackgrabsabroom.Heraisesit.Instantly,StellastepsinfrontofRubytoshieldher.

“Getinthecage,bothofyou!”Mackshouts.

Stella stares at Mack, considering. Gently but firmly, using her trunk, she nudges Ruby into herdomain.OnlythendoesStellaenter.Mackslamsthedoorshutwithaclang.

Iseetwotrunksentwined.IhearStellawhispering.

“Poorkid,”saysBob.“WelcometotheExit8BigTopMallandVideoArcade,HomeoftheOneandOnlyIvan.”

oldnews

WhenJuliacomes,shesitsbyStella’sdomainandwatchesthenewbaby.Shebarelytalkstome.

Stelladoesn’ttalktomeeither.SheistoobusynuzzlingRuby.

Sheiscute,littleRuby,withherearsflappinglikepalmleaves,butIamhandsomeandstrong.

Bobtrotsacirclearoundmybellybeforesettlingdowninjusttherightspot.“Giveitup,Ivan,”hesays.“You’reoldnews.”

Juliagetsoutapieceofpaperandapencil.IcanseethatsheisdrawingRuby.

Imovetothecornerofmydomaintopout.Bobgrumbles.Hedoesn’tlikeitwhenIdisrupthisnaps.

“Homework,”Julia’sfatherscolds.Juliasighsandputsherdrawingaside.

Igrunt,andJuliaglancesinmydirection.“PooroldIvan,”shesays.“I’vebeenignoringyou,haven’tI?”

Igruntagain,adignified,indifferentgrunt.

Juliathinksforamoment,thensmiles.Shewalksovertomydomain,tothespotinthecornerwheretheglassisbroken.Sheslidespapersthrough.Sherollsapencilacrossmycementfloor.

“Youcandrawthebabyelephanttoo,”Juliasays.

Ibitethepencilinhalfwithmymagnificentteeth.ThenIeatsomepaper.

tricks

EvenafterJuliaandherfatherleave,Itrytokeepsulking.Butit’snouse.

Gorillasarenot,bynature,pouters.

“Stella?”Icall.“It’safullmoon.Didyousee?”

Sometimes,whenwearelucky,wecatchaglimpseofthemoonthroughtheskylightinthefoodcourt.

“Idid,”Stellasays.Sheiswhispering,andIrealizethatRubymustbeasleep.

“IsRubyallright?”Iask.

“She’stoothin,Ivan,”Stellasays.“Poorbaby.Shewasinthattruckfordays.Mackboughtherfromacircus,thesamewayheboughtme,butshehadn’tbeentherelong.Shewasborninthewild,likeus.”

“Willshebeokay?”Iask.

Stelladoesn’tanswermyquestion.“Thecircustrainerschainedhertothefloor,Ivan.Allfourfeet.Twenty-threehoursaday.”

Ipuzzleoverwhythiswouldbeagoodidea.Ialwaystrytogivehumansthebenefitofthedoubt.

“Whywouldtheydothat?”Ifinallyask.

“Tobreakherspirit,”Stellasays.“Soshecouldlearntobalanceonapedestal.Soshecouldstandonherhindlegs.Soadogcouldjumponherbackwhileshewalkedinmindlesscircles.”

IhearhertiredvoiceandthinkofallthetricksStellahaslearned.

introductions

WhenIawakethenextmorning,IseealittletrunkpokingoutbetweenthebarsofStella’sdomain.

“Hello,”saysasmall,clearvoice.“I’mRuby.”Shewaveshertrunk.

“Hello,”Isay.“I’mIvan.”

“Areyouamonkey?”Rubyasks.

“Certainlynot.”

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

“Whydidthedogclimbyourtummy?”Rubyasks.

“Becauseit’sthere,”Bobmurmurs.

“IsStellaawake?”Iask.

“AuntStella’sasleep,”Rubysays.“Herfootishurting,Ithink.”

Ruby turnsherhead.Hereyesare likeStella’s,blackand long-lashed,bottomless lakes fringedbytallgrass.“Whenisbreakfast?”sheasks.

“Soon,”Isay.“Whenthemallopensandtheworkerscome.”

“Where”—Rubytwistsherheadintheotherdirection—“wherearetheotherelephants?”

“It’sjustyouandStella,”Isay,andforsomereason,Ifeelwehaveletherdown.

“Aretheremoreofyou?”

“Not,”Isay,“atthemoment.”

Rubypicksupapieceofhayandconsidersit.“Doyouhaveamomandadad?”

“Well…Iusedto.”

“Everyonehasparents,”Bobexplains.“It’sunavoidable.”

“Beforethecircus,Iusedtolivewithmymomandmyauntsandmysistersandmycousins,”Rubysays.Shedropsthehay,picksitup,twirlsit.“They’redead.”

Idon’tknowwhattosay.Iamnotreallyenjoyingthisconversation,butIcanseethatRubyisn’tdonetalking.Tobepolite,Isay,“I’msorrytohearthat,Ruby.”

“Humanskilledthem,”shesays.

“Whoelse?”Bobasks,andweallfallsilent.

stellaandruby

Allmorning,Stella strokesRuby,patsher, smellsher.They flap their ears.They rumbleand roar.Theyswayasifthey’redancing.RubyclingstoStella’stail.SheslipsunderStella’sbelly.

Sometimestheyjustleanintoeachother,theirtrunkstwirledtogetherlikejunglevines.

Stellalookssohappy.It’smorefuntowatchthananynatureshowI’veeverseenonTV.

homeoftheoneandonlyivan

GeorgeandMackareoutbythehighway.Icanseethemthroughoneofmywindows.Theyarenexttoeachotherontallwoodenladders,leaningagainstthebillboardthattellsthecarstostopandvisittheOneandOnlyIvan,MightySilverback.

Georgehasabucketandalong-handledbroom.Mackhaspiecesofpaper.Heslapsoneagainstthebillboard.Georgedipsthebroomintothebucket.Hewetsthepaperwiththeliquidfromthebucket,andsomehowthepaperstaysinplace.

Theyputupmanypiecesbeforetheyaredone.

Whentheyclimbdownfromtheladders,Iseethatthey’veaddedapictureofalittleelephanttothebillboard.Theelephanthasalopsidedsmile.Sheiswearingaredhat,andhertailcurlslikeapig’s.Shedoesn’tlooklikeRuby.Shedoesn’tevenlooklikeanelephant.

I’veonlyknownRubyoneday,andIcouldhavedrawnherbetter.

artlesson

Rubyasksalotofquestions.Shesays,“Ivan,whyisyourtummysobig?”and“Haveyoueverseenagreengiraffe?”and“Canyougetmeoneofthosepinkcloudsthatthehumansareeating?”

WhenRubyasks,“Whatisthatonyourwall?”Iexplainthatit’sajungle.Shesaystheflowershavenoscentandthewaterfallhasnowaterandthetreeshavenoroots.

“Iamawareofthat,”Isay.“It’sart.Apicturemadewithpaint.”

“Doyouknowhowtomakeart?”Rubyasks.

“Yes,Ido,”Isay,andIpuffupmychest,justalittle.“I’vealwaysbeenanartist.Ilovedrawing.”

“Whydoyouloveit?”Rubyasks.

Ipause.I’venevertalkedtoanyoneaboutthisbefore.“WhenI’mdrawingapicture,Ifeel…quietinside.”

Rubyfrowns.“Quietisboring.”

“Notalways.”

Rubyscratchesthebackofherneckwithhertrunk.“Whatdoyoudraw,anyway?”

“Bananas,mostly. Things inmy domain.My drawings sell at the gift store for twenty-five dollarsapiece,withaframe.”

“What’saframe?”Rubyasks.“What’sadollar?What’sagiftstore?”

Iclosemyeyes.“I’malittlesleepy,Ruby.”

“Haveyoueverdrivenatruck?”Rubyasks.

Idon’tanswer.

“Ivan?”Rubyasks.“CanBobfly?”

Amemoryflashespast,surprisingme.Ithinkofmyfather,snoringpeacefullyunderthesunwhileItryeverytrickIknowtowakehim.

Perhaps,Irealize,hewasn’treallysuchasoundsleeperafterall.

“How’sthatfoot,oldgirl?”GeorgeasksStella.

Stellapokeshertrunkbetweenthebars.SheinspectsGeorge’srightshirtpocketforthetreathebringshereverynightwithoutfail.

Georgedoesn’talwaysbringmetreats.Stella’shisfavorite,butIdon’tmind.She’smyfavoritetoo.

Stella sees thatGeorge’spocket is empty.ShegivesGeorgea frustratednudgewithher trunk,andJuliagiggles.

StellamovestoGeorge’sleftpocketanddiscoversacarrot.Nimblysheremovesit.

Mackwalkspast.“Toilet’spluggedupinthemen’sbathroom,”hesays.“Bigmess.”

“I’lltakecareofit.”Georgesighs.

Mack turns to leave. “Um, before you go,Mack,”George says, “youmightwant to take a look atStella’sfoot.Ithinkit’sinfectedagain.”

“Darn thing never does heal up right.”Mack rubs his eyes. “I’ll keep an eye on it.Money’s tight,though.Can’tbecallingtheveteverytimeshesneezes.”

GeorgestrokesStella’strunk.Sheinspectshispocketsonemoretime,justincase.

“Sorry,girl,”Georgesays,ashewatchesMackwalkaway.

elephantjokes

“Ivan?Bob?”

Iblink.Thedawnskyisasmudgeofgrayfleckedwithpink,likeapicturedrawnwithtwocrayons.IcanjustmakeoutRubyintheshadows,wavinghellowithhertrunk.

“Areyouawake?”Rubyasks.

“Wearenow,”saysBob.

“AuntStella’sstillasleepandIdon’twanttowakeher’causeshesaidherfootwashurtingbutI’mreally,really”—Rubypausesforabreath—“reallybored.”

Bobopensoneeye.“YouknowwhatIdowhenI’mbored?”

“What?”Rubyaskseagerly.

Bobcloseshiseye.“Isleep.”

“It’salittleearly,Ruby,”Isay.

“I’musedtogettingupearly.”Rubywrapshertrunkaroundoneofthebarsonherdoor.“Atmyoldcircuswealwaysgotupwhenitwasstilldarkandthenwehadbreakfastandwewalkedinacircle.Andthentheychainedmyfeetup,andthatreallyhurt.”

Rubyfallssilent.InstantlyBobissnoring.

“Ivan?”Rubyasks.“Doyouknowanyjokes?Iespeciallylikejokesaboutelephants.”

“Um.Well,letmesee.IheardMacktelloneonce.”Iyawn.“Uhh…howcanyoutellthatanelephanthasbeenintherefrigerator?”

“How?”

“Bythefootprintsinthebutter.”

Rubydoesn’treact.Isituponmyelbows,tryingnottodisturbBob.“Getit?”

“What’sarefrigerator?”Rubyasks.

“It’sahumanthing,acoldboxwithadoor.Theyputfoodinside.”

“Theyputfoodinthedoor?Orfoodinthebox?Andisitabigbox?”Rubyasks.“Oralittlebox?”

Icanseethisisgoingtotakeawhile,soIsitupalltheway.Bobslidesoff,grumbling.

Ireachformypencil,theoneIsnappedinhalfwithmyteeth.“Here,”Isay,“I’lldrawyouapicture

ofone.”

Inthedimlight,ittakesmeaminutetofindapieceofthepaperJuliagaveme.Thepageisalittledampandhasasmearofsomethingorangeonit.Ithinkit’sfromatangerine.

Itrymybesttomakearefrigerator.Thebrokenpencilisnotcooperating,butIdowhatIcan.

BythetimeI’mdone,thefirststreaksofmorningsunhaveappearedinflashycartooncolors.IholdupmypictureforRubytosee.

Shestudiesit intently,herheadturnedsothatoneblackeyeis trainedonmydrawing.“Wow.Youmadethat!Isthisthethingyouweretellingmeaboutbefore?Art?”

“Sureis.Icandrawallkindsofthings.I’mespeciallygoodatfruit.”

“Couldyoudrawabananarightnow?”Rubyasks.

“Absolutely.”Iturnthepaperoverandsketch.

“Wow,”RubysaysagaininanawedvoicewhenIholdupthepage.“Itlooksgoodenoughtoeat!”

Shemakesahappy,liltingsound,anelephantlaugh.It’slikethesongofabirdIrecallfromlongago,atinyyellowbirdwithavoicelikedancingwater.

Strange.I’dforgottenallaboutthatbird,howshe’dwakemeeverymorningatdawn,whenIwasstill

curledsafelyinmymother’snest.

It’sagoodfeeling,makingRubylaugh,soIdrawanotherpicture,andanother,alongtheedgesofthepaper:anorange,acandybar,acarrot.

“Whatareyoutwoupto?”Stellaasks,moaningasshetriestomovehersorefoot.

“Howareyouthismorning?”Iask.

“Justfeelingmyage,”Stellasays.“I’mfine.”

“Ivanismakingmepictures,”Rubysays.“Andhetoldmeajoke.IreallylikeIvan,AuntStella.”

Stellawinksatme.“Metoo,”shesays.

“Ivan?Want to hearmy favorite joke?” Ruby asks. “I heard it fromMaggie. Shewas one of thegiraffesinmyoldcircus.”

“Sure,”Isay.

“Itgoeslikethis.”Rubyclearsherthroat.“Whatdoelephantshavethatnothingelsehas?”

Trunks,Ithink,butIdon’tanswerbecauseIdon’twanttoruinRuby’sfun.

“Idon’tknow,Ruby,”Ireply.“Whatdoelephantshavethatnothingelsehas?”

“Babyelephants,”Rubysays.

“Goodone,Ruby,”Isay,watchingStellastrokeRuby’sbackwithhertrunk.

“Goodone,”Stellasayssoftly.

children

OnceIaskedStellaifshe’deverhadanybabies.

Sheshookherhead.“Ineverhadtheopportunity.”

“Youwouldhavemadeagreatmother,”Itoldher.

“Thank you, Ivan,” Stella said, clearly pleased. “I like to think so. Having young ones is a bigresponsibility.Youhavetoteachthemhowtotakemudbaths,ofcourse,andemphasizetheimportanceoffiberintheirdiet.”Shelookedaway,contemplating.

Elephantsareexcellentatcontemplating.

“Ithinkthehardestpartofbeingaparent,”Stellaaddedafterawhile,“wouldbekeepingyourbabiessafefromharm.Protectingthem.”

“Thewaysilverbacksdointhejungle,”Isaid.

“Exactly.”Stellanodded.

“Youwouldhavebeengoodatprotecting,too,”Isaidconfidently.

“I’mnotsosure,”Stellasaid,gazingattheironbarssurroundingher.“I’mnotsureatall.”

theparkinglot

MackandGeorgearechattingwhileGeorgecleansoneofmywindows.

“George,”Macksays,frowning,“there’ssomethingwrongwiththeparkinglot.”

Georgesighs.“I’lltakealookassoonasI’mdonewiththiswindow.What’stheproblem?”

“Therearecarsinit,that’swhat’swrong.Cars,George!”Mackbreaksintoagrin.“Ithinkthingsareactuallystartingtopickupabit.It’sgottabethebillboard.Peopleseethatbabyelephantandtheyjusthavetostopandspendtheirhard-earnedcash.”

“Ihopeso,”Georgesays.“Wesurecouldusethebusiness.”

Mack’sright.IhavenoticedmorevisitorscomingsinceheandGeorgeaddedthepictureofRubytothesign.PeoplecrowdaroundRubyandStella’sdomain,oohingandahhingatthesightofasuchatinyelephant.

Igazeoutatthehugesignthatmakeshumansstopandspendtheirhard-earnedcash.IhavetoadmitthatthepictureofRubyisrathercute,evenifshedoesn’tlooklikearealelephant.

Iwonder ifMackcouldadda little redhatandacurly tail to thepictureofme.Maybe thenmorevisitorswouldstopbymydomain.

Icoulduseafewoohsandahhsmyself.

ruby’sstory

“Ivan,tellmeanotherjoke,please!”Rubybegsafterthetwo-o’clockshow.

“IthinkImayhaverunoutofjokes,”Iadmit.

“Astory,then,”Rubysays.“AuntStella’ssleeping.Andthere’snothingtodo.”

Itapmychin.I’mtryinghardtothink.ButwhenIgazeupatthefoodcourtskylight,I’mmesmerizedbytheelephant-coloredcloudsgallopingpast.

Rubytapsherfootimpatiently.“Iknow!I’lltellyouastory,”shesays.“Areallivetrueone.”

“Goodidea,”Isay.“What’sitabout?”

“It’saboutme.”Rubylowershervoice.“It’saboutmeandhowIfellintoahole.Abighole.Humansdugit.”

Bobprickshisearsandjoinsmebythewindow.“Ialwaysenjoyagooddiggingstory,”hesays.

“Itwasabigholefullofwaternearavillage,”Rubysays.“Idon’tknowwhyhumansmadeit.”

“Sometimesyoujustneedtodigforthesakeofdigging,”Bobreflects.

“Wewerelookingforfood,”Rubysays,“myfamilyandI.ButIwanderedoffandgotlostandwenttooclosetothevillage.”Rubylooksatme,eyeswide.“IwassoscaredwhenIfellintothathole.”

“Ofcourseyouwere,”Isay.“Iwouldhavebeenscaredtoo.”

“Metoo,”Bobadmits.“AndIlikeholes.”

“Theholewashuge.”Rubypokeshertrunkbetweenthebarsandmakesacircleintheair.“Andguesswhat?”Shedoesn’twaitforananswer.“ThewaterwasallthewayuptomyneckandIwassureIwasgoingtodie.”

Ishudder.“Whathappenedthen?”Iask.

“I’lltellyouwhathappened,”Bobsaysdarkly.“Theycapturedherandputherinaboxandshippedheroffandheresheis.JustliketheydidwithStella.”Hepausestoscratchanear.“Humans.Ratshavebiggerhearts.Roacheshavekindersouls.Flieshave—”

“No,Bob!”Rubyinterrupts.“You’rewrong.Thesehumanshelpedme.WhentheysawIwastrapped,theygrabbedropesandtheymadeloopsaroundmyneckandmytummy.Thewholeentirevillagehelped,evenlittlekidsandgrandmasandgrandpas,andtheyallpulledandpulledand…”

Rubystops.Herlashesarewet,andIknowshemustberememberingalltheterriblefeelingsfromthatday.

“…andtheysavedme,”shefinishesinawhisper.

Bobblinks.“Theysavedyou?”herepeats.

“WhenIwasfinallyout,everyonecheered,”Rubysays.“Andthechildrenfedmefruit.Andthenallthosehumansledmebacktomyfamily.Ittookthewholedaytofindthem.”

“Noway,”Bobsays,stilldoubtful.

“It’strue,”Rubysays.“Everyword.”

“Ofcourseit’strue,”Isay.

“I’veheardrescuestorieslikethatbefore.”It’sStella’svoice.Shesoundsweary.SlowlyshemakesherwayovertoRuby.“Humanscansurpriseyousometimes.Anunpredictablespecies,Homosapiens.”

Bobstilllooksunconvinced.“ButRuby’sherenow,”hepointsout.“Ifhumansaresoswell,whodidthattoher?”

IsendBobagrumpylook.Sometimeshedoesn’tknowwhentokeepquiet.

Rubyswallows,and I’mafraid she’sgoing tocry.Butwhenshespeaks,hervoice is strong.“Badhumanskilledmyfamily,andbadhumanssentmehere.Butthatdayinthehole,itwashumanswhosavedme.”RubyleansherheadonStella’sshoulder.“Thosehumansweregood.”

“Itdoesn’tmakeanysense,”Bobsays.“Ijustdon’tunderstandthem.Ineverwill.”

“You’renotalone,”Isay,andIturnmygazebacktotheracinggrayclouds.

Stella’s foothurts toomuch forher todo anyhard tricks for the two-o’clock show. Instead,Mackpullsher,limping,intothering,whereshetracksacircleinthesawdust.

Rubyclingstoherlikeashadow.Ruby’seyesgowidewhenSnickersjumpsonStella’sback,thenleapsontoherhead.

Atthefour-o’clockshow,Stellacanonlygetasfarastheentrancetothering.Rubyrefusestoleaveherside.

Attheseven-o’clockshow,Stellastaysinherdomain.WhenMackcomesforRuby,Stellawhisperssomethinginherear.Rubylooksatherpleadingly,butafteramoment,shefollowsMacktothering.

Rubystandsalone.Thebright lightsmakeherblink.Sheflapsherears.Shemakesher tinytrumpetsound.

Thehumansstopeatingtheirpopcorn.Theycoo.Theyclap.

Rubyisahit.

Idon’tknowwhethertobehappyorsad.

WhenJuliaarrivesaftertheshow,shebringsthreethickbooks,onepencil,andsomethingshecallsMagicMarkers.

“Here,Ivan,”shesays,andsheslidestwoMagicMarkersandapieceofpaperintomydomain.

Ilikethesundowncolors,redandpurple.ButIdon’tfeellikecoloring.I’mworriedaboutStella.Alleveningshe’sbeenquiet,andshehasn’teatenabitofherdinner.

Julia followsmy gaze. “Where is Stella, anyway?” she asks, and she goes to Stella’s gate. RubyextendshertrunkandJuliapatsit.“Hi,baby,”shesays.“IsStellaallright?”

Stellaislyinginapileofdirtyhay.Herbreathisragged.

“Dad,”Juliacalls,“couldyoucomehereaminute?”

Georgesetsasidehismop.

“Doyouthinkshe’sokay,Dad?”Juliaasks.“Lookatthewayshe’sbreathing.CanwecallMack?Ithinkthere’ssomethingreallywrong.”

“Hemustknowabouther.”Georgerubshischin.“Healwaysknows.Butavetcostsmoney,Jules.”

“Please?”Julia’seyesarewet.“Callhim,Dad.”

GeorgegazesatStella.Heputshishandsonhishipsandsighs.HecallsMack.

Ican’thearallofhiswords,butIcanseeGeorge’slipstightenintoagrimline.

Gorillaexpressionsandhumanexpressionsarealotalike.

“Macksaysthevet’scominginthemorningifStella’snotanybetter,”hetellsJulia.“Hesayshe’snotgoingtoletherdieonhim,notafterallthemoneyhe’sputintoher.”

GeorgestrokesJulia’shair.“She’llbeallright.She’satougholdgirl.”

JuliasitsbyStella’sdomainuntil it’s time togohome.Shedoesn’tdoherhomework.Shedoesn’tevendraw.

thepromise

MydomaingleamswithmoonlightwhenIawaketothesoundofStella’scalls.

“Ivan?”Stellasaysinahoarsewhisper.“Ivan?”

“I’mhere,Stella.” Isitupabruptly,andBob topplesoffmystomach. I run toawindow.IcanseeRubynexttoStella,sleepingsoundly.

“Ivan,Iwantyoutopromisemesomething,”Stellasays.

“Anything,”Isay.

“I’veneverasked forapromisebefore,becausepromisesare forever, and forever is anunusuallylongtime.Especiallywhenyou’reinacage.”

“Domain,”Icorrect.

“Domain,”sheagrees.

Istraightentomyfullheight.“Ipromise,Stella,”Isayinavoicelikemyfather’s.

“Butyouhaven’tevenheardwhatI’maskingyet,”shesays,andshecloseshereyesforamoment.Hergreatchestshudders.

“Ipromiseanyway.”

Stelladoesn’tsayanythingforalongtime.“Nevermind,”shefinallysays.“Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking.Thepainismakingmeaddled.”

Rubystirs.Hertrunkmoves,asifsheisreachingforsomethingthatisn’tthere.

WhenIsaythewords,theysurpriseme.“YouwantmetotakecareofRuby.”

Stellanods,asmallgesture thatmakesherwince.“Ifshecouldhavea life that’s…differentfrommine.Sheneedsasafeplace,Ivan.Not—”

“Nothere,”Isay.

Itwouldbeeasiertopromisetostopeating,tostopbreathing,tostopbeingagorilla.

“Ipromise,Stella,”Isay.“Ipromiseitonmywordasasilverback.”

knowing

BeforeMack,beforeBob,evenbeforeRuby,IknowthatStellaisgone.

Iknowitthewayyouknowthatsummerisoverandwinterisonitsway.Ijustknow.

Stellaonceteasedmethatelephantsaresuperiorbecausetheyfeelmorejoyandmoregriefthanapes.

“Yourgorillaheartsaremadeofice,Ivan,”shesaid,hereyesglittering.“Oursaremadeoffire.”

RightnowIwouldgivealltheyogurtraisinsinalltheworldforaheartmadeofice.

fivemen

Bobheardfromarat,areliablesort,thattheytossedStella’sbodyintoagarbagetruck.

Ittookfivemenandaforklift.

comfort

AlldayItrytocomfortRuby,butwhatcanIsay?

ThatStellahadagoodandhappylife?Thatshelivedasshewasmeanttolive?Thatshediedwiththosewholovedhermostnearby?

Atleastthelastistrue.

crying

Juliacriesallevening,whileherfathersweepsandmopsanddustsandcleansthetoilets.

WhenGeorge seesMack, he runs to him. I can only hear a few of his words.Vet. Should have.Wrong.

Mackshrugs.Hisshouldersdroop.Heleaveswithoutaword.

WhenGeorgewipesthefingerprintsoffmyglass,hischeeksarewet.Hedoesn’tmeetmyeyes.

theoneandonlyivan

Whenallthehumanshaveleft,IsendBobtocheckonRuby.“Howisshe?”Iaskwhenhereturns.

“Shewasshivering,”Bobsays.“Itriedtocoverherwithhay.AndItoldhernottoworry,becauseyouweregoingtosaveher.”

Iglareathim.“Youtoldherthat?”

“YoupromisedStella.”Boblowershishead.“Iwantedtomakethekidfeelbetter.”

“I shouldn’t havemade that promise, Bob. I just wanted—” I point to Stella’s domain, and for amoment,itseemslikeI’veforgottenhowtobreathe.“IwantedtomakeStellahappy,Iguess.ButIcan’tsaveRuby.Ican’tevensavemyself.”

Iflopontomyback.Thecementisalwayscold,buttonightithurts.

Bobleapsontomybelly.“YouaretheOneandOnlyIvan,”hesays.“MightySilverback.”

Helicksmychin,andhe’snotevencheckingforleftovers.

“Sayit,”Bobcommands.

Ilookaway.

“Sayit,Ivan.”

Idon’tanswer,soBoblicksmynoseuntilIcan’tstanditanylonger.

“IamtheOneandOnlyIvan,”Imutter.

“Anddon’tyoueverforgetit,”hesays.

WhenIgazeatthefood-courtskylight,themoonStellalovedisshroudedinclouds.

onceuponatime

Allnight,Rubymoansandsniffles.Ipacemydomain.Idon’twanttofallasleep,incasesheneedssomething.

“Ivan,”Bobsaysgently,“getsomesleep.Please.Foryoursake.Andformine.”

Bobcan’tsleepunlessheisonmystomach.

Ihearastirring.“Ivan?”Rubycalls.

Irushtomywindow.“Ruby?Areyouallright?”

“ImissAuntStella,”Rubysobs.“AndImissmymomandmysistersandmyauntsandmycousins,too.”

“Iknow,”Isay,becauseit’sallIcanthinkof.

Rubysniffles.“Ican’tsleep.DoyouknowanystoriesthewayAuntStelladid?”

“Notreally,”Iadmit.“StorieswereStella’sspecialty.”

“Tellme a story aboutwhen youwere little,” Ruby pleads. She puts her trunk between the bars.“Please,Ivan?”

Iscratchthebackofmyhead.“Idon’trememberthings,Ruby,”Iadmit.

“It’s true,” Bob says, trying to be helpful. “Ivan has a terrible memory. He’s the opposite of anelephant.”

Rubyletsoutalong,shiverybreath.“Oh,well.That’sokay.Night,Ivan.AndBob.”

IlistentoRuby’ssoftsobsforlong,horribleminutes.

ThenIhearmyselfsaying,“OnceuponatimetherewasagorillanamedIvan.”

And,slowlyanddeliberately,Itrytoremember.

thegrunt

IwasborninaplacehumanscallcentralAfrica,inadenserainforestsobeautiful,nocrayonscouldeverdoitjustice.

Gorillasdon’tnametheirnewbornsrightaway,thewayhumansdo.Wegettoknowourbabiesfirst.Wewaittoseehintsofwhatmightyetbe.

Whentheysawhowmuchshelovedtochasemearoundtheforest,myparentsdecidedonmytwinsister’sname:Tag.

Oh,howIlovedtoplaytagwithmysister!Shewasnimble,butwhenIgottooclose,shewouldleapontomyunsuspectingfather.ThenIwouldjoinherandwewouldbounceonthattolerantbellyuntilhegaveustheGrunt,therooting-pigsoundthatmeantEnough!

Thatgamenevergotold.

Althoughmyfathermighthavedisagreed.

Itdidn’ttakelongformyparentstofindmyname.Alldaylong,everyday,Imadepictures.Idrewonrocksandbarkandmypoormother’sback.

Iusedthesapfromleaves.Iusedthejuicefromfruit.ButmostlyIusedmud.

Andthatiswhattheycalledme:Mud.

Toahuman,Mudmightnotsoundlikemuch.Buttome,itwaseverything.

protector

Myfamily,whichhumanscallatroop,wasjustlikeanyothergorillafamily.Thereweretenofus—myfather, thesilverback;mymotherandthreeotheradultfemales;a juvenilemalecalledablackback;andtwootheryounggorillas.TagandIwerethebabiesofthegroup.

We squabbled now and then, as familieswill. Butmy father knew how to keep us in linewith asimplescowl.Andforthemostpart,wewerehappytodowhatweweremeanttodo:tofeedandforageandnapandplay.

Myfatherwasamasteratleadingustotheripestfruitforourmorningfeastandthefinestbranchesforournightnests.Hewaseverythingasilverbackismeanttobe:aguide,ateacher,aprotector.

Andnobodycouldchestbeatlikemyfather.

aperfectlife

Gorillababiesandelephantbabiesandhumanbabiesarenotsodifferent,exceptthatagorillagetstospendthedayridingonhismother’sback,likeacowboyonahorse.It’saprettygreatsystem,fromthebaby’spointofview.

Slowly, carefully, ayounggorillabegins toventure farther and farther away from the safetyofhismother’sarms.Helearnstheskillshewillneedasanadult.Howtomakeanestofbranches(weavethemtightly or theywill fall apart in themiddle of the night). How to beat your chest (cup your palms toamplifythesound).Howtogoviningfromtreetotree(don’tletgo).Howtobekind,bestrong,beloyal.

Growing up gorilla is just like any other kind of growing up.Youmakemistakes.You play.Youlearn.Youdoitalloveragain.

Itwas,forawhile,aperfectlife.

theend

Oneday,astilldaywhenthehotairhummed,thehumanscame.

Aftertheycapturedmysisterandme,theyputusinacramped,darkcratethatsmelledofurineandfear.

SomehowIknewthatinordertolive,Ihadtoletmyoldlifedie.Butmysistercouldnotletgoofourhome.Itheldherlikeavine,stretchingacrossthemiles,comforting,strangling.

Wewerestillinourcratewhenshelookedatmewithoutseeing,andIknewthatthevinehadfinallysnapped.

thetemporaryhuman

ItwasMackwhopriedopenthatcrate,Mackwhoboughtme,andMackwhoraisedmelikeahumanbaby.

Iworediapers.Idrankfromabottle.Isleptinhumanbeds,satinhumanchairs,listenedwhilehumanwordsswarmedaroundmelikeangrybees.

Mackhadawifebackthen.Helenwasquicktolaugh,butquicktoanger,too,especiallywhenIbrokesomething,whichwasoften.

HereiswhatIbrokewhileIlivedwithMackandHelen:1crib46glasses7lamps1couch3showercurtains3shower-curtainrods1blender1TV1radio3toes(myown)

IbroketheblenderwhenIsqueezedthreetubesoftoothpasteandabottleofglueintoit.Ibrokemytoesattemptingtoswingfromalampfixtureontheceiling.Ibrokeforty-sixglasses…well,itturnsouttherearemanywaystobreakaglass.

Everyweekend,MackandHelen tookme in their convertible toa fast-food restaurant,where theyorderedmeFrenchfriesandastrawberryshake.Macklovedtoseetheexpressiononthecashier’sfacewhenhedroveupandsaid,“CouldIhavesomeextraketchupformykid?”

Iwenttobaseballgames,tothegrocerystore,toamovietheater,eventothecircus.(Theydidn’thaveagorilla.)Irodealittlemotorbikeandblewoutcandlesonabirthdaycake.

My life as a human was a glamorous one, although my parents, traditional sorts, would not haveapproved.

hunger

Inmynewlifeasahuman,Iwaswelltended.IatelettuceleaveswithThousandIslanddressing,andcaramelapples,andpopcornwithbutter.Mybellyballooned.

Buthunger,likefood,comesinmanyshapesandcolors.Atnight,lyingaloneinmyPoohpajamas,Ifelthungryfortheskilledtouchofagroomingfriend,forthecheerfulgruntsofaplayfight,fortheeasysafetyofmynearbytroop,foragingthroughshadows.

RememberwhathappenedtoTag,Itoldmyself.Don’tthinkaboutthejungle.

Still,sometimesIlayawake,wishingforthewarmthofanotherjustlikeme,asleepinanightnestoftenderprayer-plantleaves.

Ilikedhavingsipsofsodapouredintomymouthlikeabubblingwaterfall.Buteverynowandthen,Ilongedtosearchforatenderstalkofarrowroot,tofeeltheteaseofamango,justoutofreach.

stilllife

OnedayHelencamehomewithsomethinglargeandflat,wrappedinbrownpaper.

“LookwhatIboughttoday,”shesaidexcitedlyasshetoreoffthepaper.“Apaintingtogooverthelivingroomcouch.”

“Fruitinabowl,”Macksaidwithashrug.“Bigdeal.”

“Thisisfineart.It’scalleda‘stilllife,’”Helenexplained.“AndIthinkit’slovely.”

Idashedovertoexaminethepainting,marvelingatthecolorsandshapes.

“See?”saidMack’swife.“Ivanlikesit.”

“Ivanlikestorolluppoopandthrowitatsquirrels,”Macksaid.

Icouldn’ttakemyeyesofftheapplesandbananasandgrapesinthepicture.Theylookedsoreal,soinviting,so…edible.

Ireachedouttotouchagrape,andHelenslappedmyhand.“Badboy,Ivan.Don’ttouch.”ShejerkedherthumbatMack.“Honey,gogetahammerandanail,wouldya?”

WhileMackandHelenwerebusyinthelivingroom,Iwanderedintothekitchen.Acakecoveredinthickchocolatefrostingsatonthecounter.

Ilikecake—loveit,infact—butitwasn’teatingIwasthinkingabout.Itwaspainting.

Thefrostingpeakedanddippedlikewavesonatinypond.Itlookedrichandgooey,darkandsmooth.

Itlookedlikemud.

Iscoopedupahandfuloffrosting.Iscoopedupanother.

Iheadedtotherefrigeratordoor.Itwasperfect:anempty,white,waitingcanvas.

Thefrostingwasn’taseasytoworkwithasjunglemud.Itwasstickierand,ofcourse,moretemptingtoeat.

ButIkeptatit.Iscrapedoffeverylastbitofthatfrosting.

Imayhaveeatenalittlecake,too.

Idon’trememberwhatIwastryingtopaint.Abanana,mostlikely.IsupposeIknewIwasgoingtogetintrouble.

Butatthatmoment,Ijustdidn’tcare.Iwantedtomakesomething,anything,thewayIusedto.

Iwantedtobeanartistagain.

punishment

Isoonlearnedthathumanscanscreechevenlouderthanmonkeys.

Afterthat,Iwasneverallowedinthekitchen.

babies

Back in thosedays, theBigTopMallwassmaller. Ithadapony ride,awooden train thatbustledaroundtheparkinglot,afewbedraggledparrots,andasurlyspidermonkey.

But when Mack brought me—a baby gorilla dressed in a crisp tuxedo—to the mall, everythingchanged.

Peoplecamefromfarandwidetohavetheirpicturestakenwithme.Theybroughtmeblocksandatoyguitar.Theyheldmeintheirlaps.OnceIevenheldababyinmine.

Shewassmallandslippery.Bubblesflowedfromher lips.Shesqueezedmyfingers.Herrearwaspuffywithpadding.Herlegsbowedlikebenttwigs.

Imadeaface.Shemadeaface.Igrunted.Shegrunted.

IwassoafraidshewouldfallthatIsqueezedhertightly,andhermotheryankedheraway.

Iwonder ifmymothereverworriedaboutdroppingus.Wealwaysheldon,but that’seasier todowhenyourmotherisfurry.

Humanbabiesareanuglylot.Buttheireyesarelikeourbabies’eyes.

Toobigfortheirfaces,andfortheworld.

Oneday,aftermanyweeksofloudtalking,Helenpackedabagandslammedthefrontdoorandnevercameback.

Idon’tknowwhy.Ineverknowthewhyofhumans.

Thatnight,IsleptwithMackinhisbed.

Myoldnestswerewovenofleavesandsticksandshapedlikehisbathtub,coolgreencocoons.

Mack’sbed,likemine,wasflat,hot,withoutsticksorstars.

Still,hemadeasleepingsoundliketherumblemyfatherusedtomakewhenallwaswell,asoundfromdeepinsidehisbelly.

myplace

Mackgrewsullen.Igrewbigger.IbecamewhatIwasmeanttobe,toolargeforchairs,toostrongforhugs,toobigforhumanlife.

Itriedtostaycalm,tomovewithdignity.Ididmybesttoeatdaintily.Buthumanwaysarehardtolearn,especiallywhenyou’renotahuman.

WhenIsawmynewdomain,Iwasthrilled,andwhowouldn’thavebeen?Ithadnofurnituretobreak.Noglassestosmash.NotoiletstodropMack’skeysinto.

Itevenhadatireswing.

Iwasrelievedtohavemyownplace.

Somehow,Ididn’trealizeI’dbeherequitesolong.

NowIdrinkPepsi,eatoldapples,watchrerunsonTV.

ButmanydaysIforgetwhatIamsupposedtobe.AmIahuman?AmIagorilla?

Humanshavesomanywords,morethantheytrulyneed.

Still,theyhavenonameforwhatIam.

ninethousandeighthundredandseventy-sixdays

Rubyisfinallyasleep.Iwatchherchestriseandfall.Bob,too,issnoring.

Butmymindisstillracing.Forperhapsthefirsttimeever,I’vebeenremembering.

It’sanoddstorytoremember,Ihavetoadmit.Mystoryhasastrangeshape:astuntedbeginning,anendlessmiddle.

I count all the days I’ve livedwith humans.Gorillas count aswell as anyone, although it’s not aparticularlyusefulskilltohaveinthewild.

I’ve forgotten so many things, and yet I always know precisely how many days I’ve been in mydomain.

ItakeoneoftheMagicMarkersJuliagaveme.ImakeanX,asmallone,onmypaintedjunglewall.

ImakemoreX’s,andmore.ImakeanXforeverydayofmylifewithhumans.

Mymarkslooklikethis:

Therestofthenight,Imarkthedays,andwhenIamdone,mywalllookslikethis:

Andsoon,untilthereareninethousandeighthundredandseventy-sixX’smarchingacrossmywalllikeaparadeofuglyinsects.

avisit

It’salmostmorningwhenIhearsteps.It’sMack.Hehasasharpsmell.Heweavesashewalks.

Hestandsnexttomydomain.Hiseyesarered.Heisstaringoutthewindowattheemptyparkinglot.

“Ivan,myman,”hemumbles.“Ivan.”Hepresseshisforeheadagainsttheglass.“We’vebeenthroughalot,youandme.”

anewbeginning

Wedon’tseeMackfortwodays.Whenhereturns,hedoesn’ttalkaboutStella.

MacksaysheisanxioustoteachRubysometricks.Hesaysthebillboardisbringinginmorevisitors.Hesaysit’stimeforanewbeginning.

AllafternoonandintotheeveningMackworkswithRuby.Ruby’sfeetareloopedwithropesothatshecannotrun.Aheavychainhangsoffherneck.MackshowsherStella’sball,herpedestal,herstool.HeintroduceshertoSnickers.

WhenRubyobeysMack,hegivesheracubeofsugarorabitofdriedapple.Whenshedoesn’t,heyellsandkicksatthesawdust.

WhenGeorgeandJuliaarrive,Mackisstill trainingRuby.Juliasitsonabenchandwatchesthem.Shedrawsalittle,butmostlyshekeepshereyesonRuby.

Bobwatchestoo.He’shidinginthecornerofmydomainunderNot-Tag.It’srainingoutside,andBobdoesnotlikedampfeet.

RubytrudgesbehindMack,herheaddrooping.Endlesslytheycirclethering.SometimesMackslapsherflankwithhishand.

SuddenlyRubyjerkstoastop.Mackpullsthechainhard,butRubyrefusestomove.

“Comeon,Ruby.”Mackisalmostpleading.“Whatisyourproblem?”

“She’sexhausted,”Isaytomyself.“That’stheproblem.”

Mackgroans.“Idiotelephant.”

“Idiothuman,”Bobmutters.

“Walk,Ruby,”Isay,althoughIknowshe’stoofarawaytohearme.“Dowhathesays.”

“Walk,”Mackcommands.“Now.”

Rubydoesn’twalk.Sheplopsherrumponthesawdustfloor.

“Ithinkmaybeshe’stired,”Juliasays.

Mackwipeshisforeheadwiththebackofhisarm.“Yeah,Iknow.We’realltired.”

HepushesRubywiththeheelofhisboot.Sheignoreshim.

Georgelooksoverfromthefoodcourt,whereheiswipingofftables.“Mack,”heyells,“maybeyoushouldcallitaday.I’llcloseup.”

MackyanksonRuby’schain.She’sasanchoredasatreetrunk.Hepullsharderandfallstohisknees.“Thatdoesit,”Macksays.Hebrushessawdustoffhisjeans.“Iamthroughplayingaround.”

Mackstompsofftohisoffice.Whenhereturns,heiscarryingalongstick.Thegleaminghookonitsendisalmostbeautiful,likeasliverofmoon.

It’saclaw-stick.

MacpokesRubywiththesharppoint.Nothard.Justatouch.

Icantellhewantshertoseehowmuchitcanhurt.

Igrowllowinmythroat.

Rubydoesn’tbudge.Sheisagray,unmovingboulder.Shecloseshereyes,andforamomentIwonderifshemighthavefallenasleep.

“I’mwarningyou,”Macksays.Hebreathesout.Hestaresattheceiling.

Rubymakesahuffingsound.

“Fine,”Macksays.“Youwanttoplayitthatway?”

Hedrawsbacktheclaw-stick.

“No!”Juliacries.

“I’mnotgonnahurther,”Macksays.“Ijustwanttogetherattention.”

Bobsnarls.

Mackswings.ThehookslicestheairjustafewinchesaboveRuby’shead.

“Seewhyyoudon’twanttomesswithme?”Macksays.Hedrawsbacktheclaw-stickagain.“Nowmove!”

Rubyjerksherhead,flinginghertrunktowardMack.

Shemakesanoisethatsendsthesawdustscattering.Itmakesmyglassshiver.

ItisthemostbeautifulmadIhaveeverheard.

Ruby’strunkslapsintoMack.

Idon’t see exactlywhere she strikeshim—somewherebelowhis stomach, I think—and Iknowhemustbeuncomfortable,becauseMackdropstheclaw-stickandfallsdownonthegroundandcurlsintoaballandhowlslikeababy.

“Directhit,”Bobsays.

poormack

Mackgroans.Hestumblestohisfeetandhobblesoff towardhisoffice.Rubywatcheshimleave.Ican’treadherexpression.Issheafraid?Relieved?Proud?

WhenMackisgone,GeorgeandJulialeadRubyfromthering.“It’sokay,baby,it’sokay,”Juliasays,strokingRuby’shead.

They settleRuby in her domain andmake sure she has freshwater and food.Before long,Ruby’sdozing.

“Dad?”JuliaasksasGeorgelocksRuby’sirondoor.“DoyouthinkMackwouldeverhurtRuby?”

“Idon’tthinkso,Jules,”Georgesays.“AtleastIhopenot.”

“Maybewecouldcallsomeone.”

Georgescratcheshischin.“IwishIcouldhelpRuby,butIwouldn’tknowhow.Imean,whowouldIcall?Theelephantcops?Besides”—Georgelooksdown—“Ineedthisjob,Jules.Weneedthisjob.Yourmom,thedoctorbills…”HekissesthetopofJulia’shead.“Backtowork.Youandmeboth.”

Juliasighsandreachesforherbackpack.Sheremovesapieceofpaper,abottleofwater,andasmallmetalbox.

“Homeworkfirst,”Georgesays,waggingafinger.“Thenyoucanpaint.”

“It’sforartclass,”Juliaexplains.“We’redoingwatercolors.I’mgoingtopaintRuby.”

Georgesmiles.“Allright,then.Justdon’tforgetyourspelling.”

“Dad?”Juliaasksagain.“DidyouseeMack’sfacewhenRubyhithim?”

Georgenods.“Yes,”hesayssolemnly.“Idid.”Heshakeshishead.“PoorMack.”

Heturnsaway,andonlythendoIhearhimlaughing.

colors

Julia opens the metal box. I see a row of little squares. Green, blue, red, black, yellow, purple,orange:Thecolorsseemtoglow.

Shepullsoutabrushwithathintuftofatailatitsend.Shedipsthebrushinwaterandwetsthepaper,thentapsattheredsquare.

Whenthebrushmeetsthedamppaper,pinkpetalsofcolorunfurllikemorningflowers.

Ican’ttakemyeyesoffthatmagicalbrush.Foramoment,I’mnotthinkingaboutRubyandMackandtheclaw-stickandStella.

Almost.

Juliatouchesredagain,thenblue,andthere,suddenly,isthepurpleofaripegrape.Shetouchestheblue,andherpaperturnstosummersky.Blackandwhite,andnowIseethatsheispaintingapictureofRuby.Icanmakeoutherfloppyears,herthicklegs.

Juliastopspainting.Shetakesafewstepsback,handsonherhips,gazingatherwork.

Shescowls.“It’snotright,”shesays.Sheglancesoverhershoulderatme.Itrytolookencouraging.

Juliastarts tocrumpleup thepaper, then reconsiders. Insteadsheslides it intomycageat thespotwhere my glass is broken. “Here you go,” she says. “A Julia original. That’ll be worth millionssomeday.”

GingerlyIpickupthepaper.Idonoteatasinglebiteofit.

“Oh.Hey,Ialmostforgot.”Juliarunstoherbackpack.Shepullsoutthreeplasticjars—oneyellow,oneblue,onered.

Sheopensthejars,andanodd,not-foodsmellhitsmynose.Juliapushesthejars,onebyone,throughtheopening.Thensheslidessomepaperthrough.

“Thesearecalledfingerpaints,”shesays.“Myauntgavethemtome,butreally,I’mtoooldforfingerpainting.”

Istickafingerintotheredjar.Thepaintisthickasmud.It’scoolandsmooth,likebananasunderfoot.

Ipopmyfingerintomymouth.It’snotexactlyripemango,butit’snotbad.

Julialaughs.“Youdon’teatit.Youpaintwithit.”Shegrabsapieceofpaperandpressesherfingeronit.“See?Likethis.”

Iplacemyfingeronapieceofpaper.Iliftit,andaredmarkisthere.

Iget abiggerglob from thepot and slapmyhanddownon thepage.When Ipullmyhandoff thepaper,itsredtwinstaysbehind.

Thisisn’tliketheghostlyhandprintsonmyglass,theonesmyvisitorsleavebehind.

Thishandprintcan’tbesoeasilywipedaway.

abaddream

I lieawake,peelingdried redpaintoffmyfingertips.Bob,whoaccidentallywalkedononeofmypaintings,islickinghisredpaws.

Everysooften,Iglanceoverattheemptyring.Theclaw-stickglintsinthemoonlight.

“Stop!No!”Ruby’sfranticcriesstartleme.

“Ruby,”Icall,“you’rehavingabaddream.You’reokay.You’resafe.”

“Where’s Stella?” she asks, gulping air.Before I can answer, she says, “Nevermind. I remembernow.”

“Gobacktosleep,Ruby,”Isay.“You’vehadahardday.”

“Ican’tgobacktosleep,”shesays.“I’mafraidI’llhavethesamedream.Therewasasharpstick,andithurt…”

IlookatBob,andhelooksbackatme.

“Oh,”Rubysays.“Oh.Mack.”Sheputshertrunkbetweenthebars.“Doyouthink—”Shehesitates.“DoyouthinkMackismadbecauseIhurthimtoday?”

Iconsiderlying,butgorillasareterribleliars.“Probably,”Ifinallysay.

“Heranawayafterthat,”Rubysays.

Bobgivesascornfullaugh.“Crawledawayismorelikeit.”

Wearequietforawhile.Branchesclawattheroof.Alightraindrums.Oneoftheparrotsmurmurssomethinginhersleep.

Rubybreaksthesilence.“Ivan?Ismellsomethingfunny.”

“Hecan’thelpit,”Bobsays.

“Ibelieveshe’sreferringtothefingerpaintsJuliagaveme,”Isay.

“Whatarefingerpaints?”Rubyasks.

“Youmakepictureswiththem,”Iexplain.

“Couldyoumakeapictureofme?”

“Maybesomeday.”IrememberJulia’spicture,theonethatwillbeworthamilliondollars.Iholdituptotheglass.“Look.It’syou.Juliamadeit.”

“It’shardtosee,”Rubysays.“There’snotmuchmoonlight.WhydoIhavetwotrunks?”

Iexaminethepicture.“Thosearefeet.”

“WhydoIhavetwofeet?”

“That’scalledartisticlicense,”Bobsays.

Rubysighs.“Couldyoutellmeanotherstory?”sheasks.“Idon’tthinkIcanevergobacktosleep.”

“ItoldyouallIremember,”Isaywithahelplessshrug.

“Thentellmeanewstory,”shesays.“Makesomethingup.”

Itrytothink,butmythoughtskeepreturningtoMackandhisclaw-stick.

“Anythingyet?”Rubyasks.

“I’mworkingonit.”

“Ivan?”Rubypresses.“Bobsaidyouaregoingtosaveme.”

“I…”Isearchfortruewords.“I’mworkingonthat,too.”

“Ivan?”RubysaysinavoicesolowIcanbarelyhearher.“Ihaveanotherquestion.”

IcantellfromthesoundofhervoicethatthiswillbeaquestionIdon’twanttoanswer.

Rubytapshertrunkagainsttherustyironbarsofherdoor.“Doyouthink,”sheasks,“thatI’lldieinthisdomainsomeday,likeAuntStella?”

OnceagainIconsiderlying,butwhenIlookatRuby,thehalf-formedwordsdieinmythroat.“NotifIcanhelpit,”Isayinstead.

Ifeelsomethingtighteninmychest,somethingdarkandhot.“Andit’snotadomain,”Iadd.

Ipause,andthenIsayit.“It’sacage.”

thestory

Ilookatthering,layeredwithfreshsawdust.Ilookattheskylight,atthehalf-hiddenmoon.

“Ijustthoughtofastory,”Isay.

“Isitamade-upstoryoratrueone?”Rubyasks.

“True,”Isay.“Ihope.”

Rubyleansagainstthebars.Hereyesholdthepalemooninthem,thewayastillpondholdsstars.

“Onceuponatime,”Isay,“therewasababyelephant.Shewassmartandbrave,andsheneededtogotoaplacecalledazoo.”

“What’sazoo?”Rubyasks.

“Azoo,Ruby,isaplacewherehumansmakeamends.Agoodzooisaplacewherehumanscareforanimalsandkeepthemsafe.”

“Didthebabyelephantgettothezoo?”Rubyaskssoftly.

Idon’tanswerrightaway.“Yes,”Isayatlast.

“Howdidshegetthere?”Rubyasks.

“Shehadafriend,”Isay.“Afriendwhomadeapromise.”

Ittakesalongtime,butfinallyRubyreturnstosleep.

“Ivan,”Bobwhispers,yawning,“whatyousaid…aboutthezoo.Howareyougoingtodoit?”

SuddenlyIfeelasifIcouldsleepforathousanddays.“Idon’tknow,”Iadmit.

“You’llthinkofsomething,”Bobsaysconfidently,hisvoicetrailingoffashiseyesclose.

“WhatifIdon’t?”Iask,butBobisalreadyasleep.

Hislittleredfeetdance,andIknowhe’srunninginhisdreams.

remembering

BobandRubysleepon.

Idon’tsleep.IthinkaboutthepromiseImadetoStella,andthepicturesI’vemadeforRuby.AndIremember.

Irememberitall.

whattheydid

Wewereclingingtoourmother,mysisterandI,whenthehumanskilledher.

Theyshotmyfathernext.

Thentheychoppedofftheirhands,theirfeet,theirheads.

somethingelsetobuy

Thereisacluttered,mustystorenearmycage.

Theysellanashtraythere.Itismadefromthehandofagorilla.

anotherivan

Whenmorningcomesandtheparkinglotglimmerswithdew,Iseethebillboardonthehighway.

There I am: the One and Only Ivan, bathed in the pink light of dawn. I look so angry, with myfurrowedbrowandclenchedfists.

Ilookthewaymyfatherdid,thedaythemencame.

Iam,Isuppose,apeacefulsort.MostlyIwatchtheworldgobyandthinkaboutnapsandbananasandyogurtraisins.

Butinsideme,hidden,isanotherIvan.

Hecouldtearagrownman’slimbsoffhisbody.

Intheflickeroftimeittakesasnake’stonguetotastetheair,hecouldtasterevenge.

HeistheIvanonthebillboard.

IstareattheOneandOnlyIvan,atthefadedpictureofStella,andIrememberGeorgeandMackontheir ladders, adding the picture ofRuby to bring newvisitors to theExit 8BigTopMall andVideoArcade.

IrememberthestoryRubytold,theonewherethevillagerscametoherrescue.

IhearStella’skind,wisevoice:Humanscansurpriseyousometimes.

Ilookatmyfingers,coatedinredpaintthecolorofblood,andIknowhowtokeepmypromise.

Duringthedays,Iwait.Duringthenights,Ipaint.

IworrywhenMacktakesRubyintothering.

Hecarriestheclaw-stickwithhimallthetimenow.Hedoesn’tuseit.Hedoesn’thaveto.

Rubyisn’tfightingbackanymore.ShedoeswhateverMackasks.

nights

Iclosemyeyes.Idipmyfingersintothepaint.

WhenI’mdonewithonepieceofpaper,Isetitasidetodry.

It’ssosmall,justonesheet.AndI’mgoingtoneedsomany.

Imoveontothenext,andthenext,andthenext.

It’sagiantpuzzle,andI’mmakingthepiecesonebyone.

Bymorning,myflooriscoveredwithpaintings.

IhidethepaintingsundermypoolofdirtywaterbeforeMackcanseethem.Idon’twantthemtoendupinthegiftstore,sellingfortwentydollarsapiece(twenty-fivewithframe).

ThesepaintingsareforRuby.Everyoneofthem.

project

“Ivan,”RubyasksonemorningwhenIamtrying tonap,“whyareyoualwayssosleepyduring theday?”

“I’vebeenworkingonaprojectatnight,”Itellher.

“What’saproject?”

“It’s…athing.Apainting.It’sapaintingforyou,actually,”Ianswer.

Rubylookspleased.“CanIseeit?”

“Notyet.”

Rubypokeswithannoyanceatherropedfoot.Shetakesabreath.“Ivan?DoIhavetodotheshowswithMacktoday?”

“I’mafraidso.I’msorry,Ruby.”

Rubydipshertrunkinherwaterbucket.“That’sokay,”shesays.“Ialreadyknewtheanswer.”

notright

It’snightagain,andeveryone’sasleep.IlookatthepictureI’vejustmade,oneofdozens.

It’ssmudgedandtorn,amuddyblur.

Iplaceitbesidetheothersliningmyfloor.

Thecolorsarewrong.Theshapesareoff.Itlookslikenothing.

It’snotwhatI’mtryingtocreate.It’snotwhatit’smeanttobe.

It’snotright,andIdon’tknowwhy.

Acrosstheparkinglotthebillboardbeckons,asitalwaysdoes:COMETOTHEEXIT8BIGTOPMALLANDVIDEOARCADE,HOMEOFTHEONEANDONLYIVAN,MIGHTYSILVERBACK!

IfIcouldusehumanwordstosaywhatIneedtosay,thiswouldallbesoeasy.

Instead,Ihavemypotsofpaintandmyraggedpages.

Isigh.Myfingertipsglowlikejungleflowers.

Itryagain.

goingnowhere

IwatchRubyplodaroundtheringinendlesscircles,goingnowhere.

Morevisitorshavebeencoming,butnotmany.MacksaysRuby’snotpickinguptheslackafterall.Hesayshe’scuttingbackonourfood.Hesayshe’sturningofftheheatatnighttosavemoney.

Rubylooksthinnertome,morewrinkledthanStellaeverwas.

“DoyouthinkRuby’seatingenough?”IaskBob.

“Idon’tknow.I’lltellyouonething,though:You’resureasheckpaintingenough.”Bobwrinkleshisnose.“Thatstenchisunbelievable.AndIfoundyellowpaintinmytailthismorning.”

Bobisn’thappyaboutmynightpainting.Hesaysit’sunnatural.

Now,whileIworkatmyart,BobsleepsonNot-Tag.Heclaimsheprefersherbecauseshedoesn’tsnore.Hesaysherbellydoesn’triseandfallandmakehimseasick.

“What is this planofyours, anyway?”Bobasks. “If you explained it tome, I couldhelpout.”Hegnawsathistail.“MaybeIcouldcomeupwithsomethingthatdoesn’tinvolve…youknow,paint.”

“Ican’texplainit,”Itellhim.“It’sanideainmyhead,butIcan’tgetitright.Andanyway,I’malmostoutofsupplies.IshouldhaveknownIwouldn’thaveenough.”Ikickatmytireswing.It’sspatteredwithdropsofbluepaint.“It’sastupididea.”

“Idoubtthat,”Bobsays.“Smelly,yes.Stupid?Never.”

badguys

MostofthedayIdoze.Lateintheafternoon,Mackapproaches.

BobslipsunderNot-Tag.HepreferstokeepalowprofilearoundMack.

Mack’sgazefallsonmypool.Acornerofoneofmypaintingsisvisible.“What’sthat,bigguy?”heasks.

Icalmlyeatanorange,ignoringhim,butmyheartisracing.

Mackkicksatmyplasticpool.Underneathitareallthepaintings.

Mackyanksonapieceofpaper.Itslipsouteasily,andhedoesn’tseemtonoticetheotherpaintings.

Thepageisstripedwithgreen,whichiswhathappenswhenbluepaintandyellowpaintgettogether.It’ssupposedtobeapatchofgrass.

“Notbad.Where’dyougetthepaint,anyway?George’skid?”Heconsiders.“Hmm.I’llbetIcangetthirtyforthispicture,maybeevenforty.”

MackturnsonmyTV.It’saWestern.There’sahumanwithabighatandasmallgun.Hehasashinystarpinnedtohischest.Thatmeansheisthesheriffandhewillbegettingridofallthebadguys.

“Ifthissellsquick,I’mgettingyousomemoreofthatpaint,buddy,”Macksays.

Hewalksawaywithmypainting.Ruby’spainting.Foramoment,Iimaginewhatitwouldfeelliketobethesheriff.

“Goodnews, huh?”Bob sayswhenMack’s out of earshot. “Looks like youmight be getting somemoresupplies.”

“Idon’twanttopaintforMack,”Isay.“I’mpaintingforRuby.”

“Youcandoboth,”Bobsays.“You’reanartist,afterall.”

WhileIwatchthemovie,Itrytocomeupwithanewhidingplaceformypaintings.Maybe,Ithink,Icouldfoldthem,oncethey’redry,andstuffthemintoNot-Tag.

It’salongmovie.Attheend,thesheriffmarriesthewomanwhoownsthesaloon,whichisawateringholeforhumansbutnothorses.

It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’veseenaWesternthatwasalsoaromance.

“Ilikedthatmovie,”IsaytoBob.

“Toomanyhorses,notenoughdogs,”hecomments.

Anadcomeson.

Idon’tunderstandads.They’renotlikeWesterns,whereyouknowwhothebadguyissupposedtobe.Andthey’rehardlyeverromantic,unlessthemanandthewomanarebrushingtheirteethbeforetheyfacelick.

Iwatchanadforunderarmdeodorant.“Howdoyouknowwho’swhoiftheydon’tsmell?”IaskBob.

“Humansreek,”Bobreplies.“Theyjustdon’tnoticebecausetheyhaveincompetentnoses.”

Anotheradcomeson.Iseechildrenandtheirparentsbuyingtickets,justliketheticketsMacksells.Theylaugh,enjoyingtheiricecreamconesastheywalkdownapath.

Theypausetowatchtwosleepy-eyedcats,hugeandstriped,dozinginlonggrass.

Tigers.Iknow,becauseIsawthemonanatureshowonce.

Wordsflashonthescreen,accompaniedbyadrawingofaredgiraffe.Thegiraffevanishes,andIseeahumanfamilystaringatanotherkindoffamily.Elephants,oldandyoung.They’resurroundedbyrocksandtreesandgrassandroomtowander.

It’sawildcage.Azoo.Iseewhereitbegins,andwhereitends,thewallthatsaysyouarethisandwearethatandthatishowitwillalwaysbe.

It’snotaperfectplace.EveninjustafewfleetingsecondsonmyTVscreen,Icanseethat.Aperfectplacewouldnotneedwalls.

Butit’stheplaceIneed.

Igazeattheelephants,andthenIlookoveratRuby,smallandalone.

Beforetheadends,Itrytoremembereverylastdetail.Rocks,trees,tails,trunks.

It’sthepictureIneedtopaint.

imagining

It’sdifferentnow,whenIpaint.

I’mnotpaintingwhatIseeinfrontofme.Abanana.Anapple.I’mpaintingwhatIseeinmyhead.Thingsthatdon’texist.

Atleast,notyet.

not-tag

IpulloutNot-Tag’sstuffing.CarefullyIfillherwithmypaintings,hidingthemsoMackwon’tsellthem.She’slarge,biggerthanBob,butIstillhavetocrumpleafewofthem.

Bobtriestosettleonherforanap.“You’vekilledher,”hecomplains.

“Ihadto,”Isay.

“Imissyourstomach,”Bobadmits.“It’sso…spacious.”

WhenJuliaarrives,shenoticesthatI’veusedupmypaintsandpaper.“Wow.”Juliashakesherhead.“Youareoneseriousartist,Ivan.”

onemorething

Myfingerpaintinghassoldforfortydollars(withframe).Mackishappy.Hebringsmeahugepileofpaperandbigbucketsofpaint.

“Gettowork,”hesays.

IpaintforMackduringtheday,andforRubyatnight.

InapwhenIcan.

Butmynighttimepictureisn’tquiteright.It’sbig,that’sforsure.WhenIplaceallthepiecesonthefloorofmycagesidebyside,thecementisalmostcompletelycovered.

Butsomethingisstillmissing.

Bob says I’m crazy. “There’sRuby,” he says, pointingwith his nose. “There’s the zoo.There areotherelephants.What’swrongwithit?”

“Itneedsonemorething,”Isay.

Bobgroans.“You’rebeingatemperamentalartist.Whatcouldbemissing?”

Istareatthehugeexpanseofcolorsandshapes.Idon’tknowhowtoexplaintoBobthatitisn’tdone

“I’lljusthavetowait,”Isayatlast.“Somethingwillcometome,andthenI’llknowmypaintingisfinallyready.”

theseven-o’clockshow

Duringthelastshowoftheday,Rubyseemstired.Whenshestumbles,Mackreachesfortheclaw-stick.

Itense,waitingforhertostrikeback.

Rubydoesn’tevenflinch.Shejustkeepsploddingalong,andafterawhile,Snickersjumpsontoherback.

twelve

Ilieinmycage,withBobonmystomach.WearewatchingJuliadoherhomework.

Shedoesn’tseemtobeenjoyingit.Icantellbecausesheissighingmorethanusual.

Again,forthehundredthtime,ormaybethethousandth,Iwonderwhatismissingfrommypainting.

Andforthehundredthtime,ormaybethethousandth,Idon’thaveanyanswer.

“Dad,”JuliasaysasGeorgepassesbywithamop,“canIaskyouaquestion?”

“MayI,”Georgecorrects.“Askaway.”

Juliaglancesdownatapieceofpaper.“What’sthedifferencebetweenthewordspelledP-R-I-N-C-I-P-A-LandtheonespelledP-R-I-N-C-I-P-L-E?”

“Thefirstoneistheheadofaschool,likeMs.Garcia.Thesecondoneisabeliefthathelpsyouknowwhat’s right or wrong.” He smiles. “For example, it’s against my principles to do my daughter’shomeworkforher.”

Juliagroans.“IfI’mgoingtobeanartistwhenIgrowup,whydoIneedtoknowhowtospell?”

Withalaugh,Georgeheadsoff.

PoorJulia,I think.Gorillasgetbyjustfinewithoutlearninghowtospell.Allthoseendlessletters,thosesticksandcirclesandzigzags,fillingupbooksandmagazines,billboardsandcandywrappers.

Words.

Humanslovetheirwords.

Ileapup.Bobgoesflying,straightintomypool.

Aword.

“YouknowhowIfeelaboutwetfeet!”Bobyells.Hescramblesoutofthewater,shakingeachfootindismay.

Ilookoutmywindowatthebillboard.IcanstillhearMack’svoiceinmyhead:“COMETOTHEEXIT8BIGTOPMALLANDVIDEOARCADE,HOMEOFTHEONEANDONLYIVAN,MIGHTYSILVERBACK!”

Icounttotwelve,andthenIcountagain,justtobesure.

Ilayoutsixteenpiecesofposterboard.Fourdown,fouracross.

Aperfectsquare.

“Whatareyouupto?”Bobdemands.“I’mguessingitdoesn’tinvolvesleep.”

“Ithastodowiththebillboard.”

“Thatsign’samonstrosity.ParticularlysinceI’mnotfeatured.”

Igrabmybucketofredpaint.“You’renotonthebillboardbecauseyou’renotintheshow,”Ipointout.

“Technically,Idon’tevenlivehere,”Bobsayswithasniff.“Iamhomelessbychoice.”

“Iknow.I’mjustsaying.”

Istudythebillboard.ThenImaketwofatlines,likebroomhandles.Anotherfatlineconnectsthem.

Istandback.“Whatdoyouthink?”

“Whatisit?No,wait:letmeguess.Aladder?”

“Notaladder,”Isay.“Aletter.AtleastIthinkthat’swhatthey’recalled.Ihavetomakethreemore.”

BobcuddlesupnexttoNot-Tag.“Why?”heasks,yawning.

“BecausethenI’llhaveaword.Averyimportantword.”Idipmyfingersintothepaint.

“Whatword?”Bobasks.

“Home.”

Bobcloseshiseyes.“That’snotsoimportant,”hesaysquietly.

nervous

AlldaylongIknucklewalkcirclesaroundmycage.

I’msonervousIcan’tnap.Ican’teveneat.

Well,notverymuch,anyway.

I’mreadytoshowJuliawhatI’vemade.

IthastobeJulia.She’sanartist.Surelyshe’lllook,trulylook,atmypainting.Shewon’tnoticethesmudgesandtears.Shewon’tcareifthepiecesdon’tquitefittogether.She’llseepastallofthat.

SurelyJuliawillseewhatI’veimagined.

IwatchRubytrudgesullenlythroughthefour-o’clockshow,andIwonder:WhatwillhappenifIfail?WhatifIcan’tmakeJuliaunderstand?

ButofcourseIknowtheanswer.Nothing.Nothingwillhappen.

Rubywill remain themain attraction at the Exit 8Big TopMall andVideoArcade, convenientlylocatedoffI-95,withshowsattwo,four,andseven,365daysayear,yearafteryearafteryear.

showingjulia

It’stimetoshowmywork.

Themallissilent,exceptforThelmathemacaw,whoispracticinganewphrase:“Uh-oh!”

Juliaisfinishingherhomework.Georgeissweepingoutside.Mackhasgonehomeforthenight.

IgrabNot-Tagandcarefullypullout the foldedpapers.Somanypaintings!Pageafterpage.Pieceafterpieceofmygiantpuzzle.

Ipoundonmyglass,andJuliaglancesover.

Fingerstrembling,Iholduponeofmypaintings.It’sbrownandgreen,acornerpiece.

Juliasmiles.

Idisplayanotherpicture,andthenanotherandanotherandanother,eachoneatinypartofthewhole.

Julialooksconfused.“But…whatisit?”sheasks.Sheshrugs.“Itdoesn’tmatter.It’sprettyjustasitis.”

“Uh-oh,”saysThelma.

No,Ithink.No.

Itdoesmatter.

morepaintings

Georgecallsout toJulia.He’sdonefor thenight.“Grabyourbackpack,”hesays.“Andhurry. It’slate.”

“Gottago,Ivan,”Juliasays.

Juliadoesn’tunderstand.

Ihavetofindtherightpieces.Idigthroughthepile.They’reheresomewhere.Iknowtheyare.

Ifindone,anotherone,another.Itrytoholdfourofthemupagainsttheglass.

“Bob,”Isay,“helpme.Hurry!”

Bobgrabspaintingswithhisteethanddragsthemtome.

Onebyone,Ishovepicturesthroughthewindowcrack.Theycrumpleandtear.

Therearetoomanypieces.Mypuzzleistoobig.

“Careful,Ivan,”Juliasays.“Thosemightbeworthmillionssomeday.Youneverknow.”Shearrangesthepaintingsintoaneatstack.“IsupposeMack’sgoingtowanttoselltheseinthegiftshop.”

Shestilldoesn’tunderstand.

Ishovemoreouttheholeandmoreandmore,allofthem,oneafteranother.

“SoIvan’sbeenpainting,hashe?”Georgesaysasheputsonhiscoat.

“Alot,”saysJuliawithalaugh.“Awholelot.”

“You’renottakingallthosehomewithyou,areyou?”Georgeasks.“Imean,nooffensetoIvan,butthey’rejustblobs.”

Juliathumbsthroughthetoweringstackofpaintings.“TheymightnotbeblobstoIvan.”

“Let’sleavethosebytheoffice,”Georgesuggests.“Mack’llwanttotrysellingthem.Althoughwhyanyonewouldpayfortybucksforafingerpaintingatwo-year-oldcoulddo,Idon’tknow.”

“IlikeIvan’swork,”Juliasays.“Heputshisfeelingsintothem.”

“Heputshishairintothem,”Georgesays.

Juliawavesgood-bye.“Night,Ivan.Night,Bob.”

Ipressmynoseagainsttheglassandwatchherwalkaway.Allmywork,allmyplanning,wasted.

IlookatRuby,sleepingsoundly,andsuddenlyIknowshe’llneverleavetheBigTopMall.She’llbehereforever,justlikeStella.

Ican’tletRubybeanotherOneandOnly.

chest-beating

Often,whenvisitorscometoseeme,theybeattheirhandsagainsttheirpunychests,pretendingtobeme.

Theypoundaway,soundlessasthewetwingsofanewbutterfly.

Thechestbeatingofamadgorillaisnotsomethingyoueverwanttohear.Notevenifyou’rewearingearplugs.

Notevenifyou’rethreemilesaway,wearingearplugs.

Arealchestbeatingsendsthewholejunglerunning,asiftheskyhasbrokenopen,asifmenwithgunsarenear.

Thump.

Thesound—mysound—echoesthroughthemall.

GeorgeandJuliaspinaround.

Juliadropsherbackpack.Georgedropshiskeys.Thepileofpicturesgoesflying.

Thump.Thump.Thump.

Ibounceoffthewalls.Iscreechandbellow.Ibeatandbeatandbeatmychest.

BobhidesunderNot-Tag,hispawsoverhisears.

I’mangry,atlast.

Ihavesomeonetoprotect.

puzzlepieces

Afteralongwhile,Igrowquiet.Isit.It’shardwork,beingangry.

Julialooksatmewithwide,disbelievingeyes.

I’mpanting.I’malittleoutofshape.

“Whattheheckwasthat?”Georgedemands.

“Something’sreallywrong,”Juliasays.“I’veneverseenIvanactthisway.”

“Heseemstobecalmingdown,thankgoodness,”Georgesays.

Juliashakesherhead.“He’sstillupset,Dad.Lookathiseyes.”

Mypicturesarescatteredalloverthefloorlikehugeautumnleaves.

“Whatamess,”Georgesays,sighing.“WishIhadn’tbotheredsweepingtonight.”

“DoyouthinkIvan’sokay?”Juliaasks.

“Probablyjustatempertantrum,”Georgesays.Hereachesunderachairtoretrieveabrownandredpicture.“Can’tsayIblametheguy,stuckinthattinycagealltheseyears.”

Juliastartstoanswer,butthenshefreezes.Shecocksherhead.

Shestaresatherfeet,wheremypictureslieindisarray.

“Dad,”shewhispers.“Comeseethis.”

“I’m sure he’s another Rembrandt,” George says. “Let’s pick these up and get going, Jules. I’mexhausted.”

“Dad,”shesaysagain.“Seriously.Lookatthis.”

Georgefollowshergaze.“Iseeblobs.Many,manyblobs,alongwith theoccasionalswirl.Please,canwegohomenow?”

“That’s anH, Dad.” Julia kneels down, straightening one picture, then another. “That’s anH, andhere”—shegrabsmorepictures—“putthisonehere,and,Idon’tknow,maybethatone.YouhaveanE.”

Georgerubshiseyes.Iholdmybreath.

Julia is runningnow.Shepicksuponepicture,setsdownanother.“It’s likeapuzzle,Dad!This issomething.It’saword,maybewords.Andapictureofsomething.Agiantpicture.”

“Jules,”George says, “this is crazy.”But he’s looking at the floor too,wandering frompicture topictureandscratchinghishead.

“H,”Juliasays.“E.O.”

“Hoe?”

Juliachewsherlowerlip.“H,E,O.Andthatlooksalotlikeaneye.”

“H,E,O,I.”Georgewritesintheairwithhisfinger.“I,E,O,H.”

“Nottheletter.Anactualeye.Andthat’safoot.Ormaybeatree.Andatrunk.Dad,Ithinkthat’satrunk!”

Juliarunstomywindow.“Ivan,”shewhispers,“whatdidyoumake?”

Istareback.Icrossmyarms.

ThisistakingmuchlongerthanI’dthoughtitwould.

Humans.

Sometimestheymakechimpslooksmart.

finally

JuliaandGeorgetakethepicturestothering,wherethere’sroomtoseethemall.

Anhourpassesastheytrytoassemblemypuzzle.Ruby’sawakenow,andsheandBobandIwatch.

“Ivan,”Rubysays,“isthatapictureofme?”

“Yes,”Isayproudly.

“WhereamIsupposedtobe?”

“That’sazoo,Ruby.Seethewallsandthegrassandthepeoplelookingatyou?”

Rubysquints.“Whoareallthoseotherelephants?”

“Youhaven’tmetthem,”Isay.“Yet.”

“It’saverynicezoo,”Rubysayswithanapprovingnod.

Bobnudgesmewithhiscoldnose.“Itisindeed.”

Inthering,Juliapumpsherfistintheair.“Yes!”shecries.“Itoldyou,Dad!Thereitis:H-O-M-E.Home.”

Georgegazesattheletters.Hespinsaroundtolookatme.“Maybeit’sjustacoincidence,Jules.Youknow,aonce-in-a-trillionkindofthing,likethatoldsayingaboutthechimpandthetypewriter.Givehimlongenoughandhe’llwriteanovel.”

Imakeagrumblingnoise.Asifachimpcouldwritealetter,letaloneabook.

“Thenhowdoyouexplaintherestofit?”Juliademands.“ThepictureofRubyinthezoo?”

“Howdoyouknowit’sazoo?”Georgeasks.

“Seethecircleonthegate?There’saredgiraffeinit.”

Georgesquintsandtiltshishead.“Areyousurethat’sagiraffe?Iwasthinkingmorealongthelinesofadeformedcat.”

“It’sthelogoforthezoo,Dad.It’sonalltheirsigns.Explainthat.”

Georgegivesherahelplesssmile.“Ican’t.Ican’tbeginto.I’mjustsayingtherehastobealogicalexplanation.”

“Lookhowbigthisis.”JuliaputsthelastpieceofRuby’srightearintoplace.“It’shuge.”

“Itisdefinitelylarge,”Georgeagrees.

Juliawatchesme.Shechewsonherthumbnail.Iseethequestioninhereyes.

Sheturnsbacktothepaintingsandstaresatthem,looking,trulylooking.

AslowsmiledawnsonJulia’sface.

“Dad,”shesays,“Ihaveanidea.Abigidea.”Juliaracesaroundtheedgeofmypainting,herarmsspreadwide.“Billboardbig.”

“I’mnotfollowingyou.”

“Ithinkthisismeanttobeonabillboard.That’swhatIvanwants.”

Georgecrosseshisarmsoverhischest.“WhatIvanwants,”herepeatsslowly.“Andyouknowthisbecause…youtwohavebeenchatting?”

“BecauseI’manartist,andhe’sanartist.”

“Uh-huh,”saysGeorge.

Juliaclaspsherhandstogether.“Comeon,Dad.I’mbeggingyou.”

Georgeshakeshishead.“No.I’mnotdoingthat.Nobillboard,noway.”

“I’llgettheladder,”Juliasays.“Yougettheglue.Iknowit’sdarkout,butthebillboard’slit.”

“Mack’llfireme,Jules.”

Juliaconsiders.“Butthinkofthepublicity,Dad!EverybodywouldknowaboutRuby.”

“YouwantmetoputupasignthatshowsRubyinazoowiththewordhomeonitingiantletters?”George gestures towardmy pictures. “A sign, incidentally, that just happens to have beenmade by agorilla?”

“Exactly.”

“AndyouwantmetodoitwithoutMack’spermission?”Georgeasks.

“Exactly.”

“No,”Georgesays.“Noway.”

Juliagoes to theedgeof the ring, carefulnot to steponanyofmypaintings.ShepicksupMack’sclaw-stick.Shewalksbackandhandsittoherfather.

Georgerunsafingeralongtheblade.

“She’sjustababy,Dad.Don’tyouwanttohelpher?”

“Buthowwouldithelp,Jules?EveniflotsofpeopleseeIvan’ssign,itdoesn’tmeananything’sgoingtochange.”

“I’mnotexactlysureyet.”Juliashakesherhead.“Maybepeoplewillseethesign,andthey’llknowthisisn’twhereRubybelongs.Maybethey’llwanttohelptoo.”

Georgesighs.HelooksatRuby.Shewaveshertrunk.

“It’samatterofprinciple,Dad.P-R-I-N-C-I-P-A-L.”

“L-E,”Georgecorrects.

“Dad,”Juliasayssoftly,“whatifRubyendsuplikeStella?”

Georgelooksatme,atRuby,atJulia.

Hedropstheclaw-stick.

“Theladder,”hesaysquietly,“isinthestoragelocker.”

thenextmorning

IwatchMack’scarslamtoahaltintheparkinglot.

Heleapsout.Hestaresatthebillboard.Hisjawisopen.Hedoesn’tmoveforalongtime.

madhuman

Amadgorillaisloud.Butamadhumancanbeloudtoo.

Especiallywhenheisthrowingchairsandturningovertablesandbreakingthecotton-candymachine.

phonecall

Mackiskickingatrashcanacrossthefoodcourtwhenthephonerings.

Heanswersit,red-facedandsweating.

“Whatthe—”hedemands.

Heglaresatme.

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re—”hestartstosay,butthenhestopstolisten.

“Who?Juliawho?”heasks.“Oh,sure.George’skid.She’stheonewhocalledyou?”

Moretalking.Withthephonetohisear,Mackcomesclosertomycage,eyeingmesuspiciously.

“Yeah,yeah,”hesays.“Hepaints.Sure.We’vebeensellinghisartforquiteawhilenow.”

Thereisanotherlongpause.“Yeah.Absolutely.Itwasmyidea.”

Macknods.Asmilestartsatthecornersofhismouth.

“Photos?Noproblem.Youwanttoseehiminaction?Comeondown,havealook.We’reopen365daysayear.Can’tmissus.We’rerightoffI-95.”

Mackpicksuptheoverturnedtrashcan.“Yeah,Ithinkhe’llbeaddingmorepictures.It’sa,youknow,whatdoyoucallit?Aworkinprogress.”

Whenthecallisdone,Mackshakeshishead.“Impossible,”hesays.

Anhourlater,amanwithacameracomestotakemypicture.Heisfromthelocalpaper,theoneJuliacalled.

“Howaboutyoutakeoneofmewiththeelephant?”Macksuggests.HedrapeshisarmaroundRuby’sback,grinningasthecameraclicks.

“Perfect,”themansays.

“Perfect,”Mackagrees.

astaragain

Aphotoofmybillboardisinthenewspaper.Macktapesthestoryontomywindow.

Eachdaymorecuriouspeoplearrive.Theyparkinfrontofthebillboard.Theypointandshaketheirheads.Theytakephotos.

Thentheycomeintothemallandbuymypaintings.

Whilevisitorswatch,Idipmyhandsinfreshbucketsofpaint.Imakepicturesforthegiftshop,andpictures to add to the billboard. Trees with birds. A newborn elephant with glittering black eyes. Asquirrel,abluebird,aworm.

IevenpaintBobsohecanbeonthebillboardtoo.Icantellhelikesthepicture,althoughhesaysIdidn’tquitecapturehisdistinguishednose.

Every afternoon,Mack andGeorge addmy new pictures to the billboard. People slow their carswhiletheywork.Drivershonkandwave.

Mygift-shoppicturesnowcostsixty-fivedollars(withframe).

theapeartist

Ihavenewnames.PeoplecallmetheApeArtist.ThePrimatePicasso.

Ihavevisitorsfrommorningtillnight,andsodoesRuby.

Butnothing’schangedforher.Everydayattwo,four,andseven,RubyplodsthroughthesawdustwithSnickersonherback.

Everynightshehasbaddreams.

“Bob,”Isay,afterI’vesoothedRubytosleepwithastory,“myideaisn’tworking.”

Bobopensoneeye.“Bepatient.”

“I’mtiredofbeingpatient,”Isay.

interview

ThiseveningamanandwomancometointerviewMackandalsoGeorgeandJulia.

Themanhasalargeandheavycameraperchedonhisshoulder.HefilmsmeasImakemypictures.HefilmsRubyinhercage,withherfootropedtotheboltinthefloor.

“MindifItakealookaround?”heasks.

Mackwavesahand.“Bemyguest.”

WhileMackandthewomantalk,thecameramanwalksthroughthemall.Hepanshiscamerarightandleft,upanddown.

Whenhiseyesfallontheclaw-stick,hestops.Hetrainshiscameraonthegleamingblade.Thenhemoveson.

theearlynews

MackturnsontheTV.

WeareonTheEarlyNewsatFiveO’Clock.

Bobsaysdon’tletitgotomyhead.

Thereweallare.Mack,Ruby,me.GeorgeandJulia.Thebillboard,themall,thering.

Andtheclaw-stick.

signsonsticks

Inthemorning,severalpeoplegatherintheparkinglot.They’recarryingsignsonsticks.

Thesignshavewordsandpicturesonthem.Onehasadrawingofagorillacradlingababyelephant.

IwishIcouldread.

protesters

Morepeoplewithsignscometoday.TheywantRubytobefree.Someof themevenwantMack toshutdownthemall.

Intheevening,GeorgeandMacktalkaboutthem.Macksaysthey’reprotestingthewrongguy.Hesaysthey’regoingtoruineverything.Hesaysthanksfornothing,George.

Mackstompsoff.George,holdinghismop,watcheshimleave.Herubshiseyes.Helooksworried.

“Dad,”Juliasays,lookingupfromherhomework.“Youknowwhatmyfavoritesignwas?”

“Hmm?”Georgeasks.“Whichone?”

“Theonethatsaid‘ElephantsArePeopleToo.’”

Georgegivesheratiredsmile.

He goes back towork.Hismopmoves across the empty food court like a giant brush, painting apicturenoonewilleversee.

checkmarks

Atallmanwithaclipboardandpencilcomestovisit.Hesaysheisheretoinspecttheproperty.

Hedoesn’tsaymuchmore,buthemakesmanycheckmarksonhispaper.

Helooksatmyfloor.Check.HeexaminesRuby’shay.Check.Heeyesourwaterbowls.Check.

Mackwatcheshim,scowling.

Bobisoutside,hidingneartheDumpster.Hedoesnotwanttobeacheckmark.

freeruby

Everydaytherearemoreprotesters,andcameraswithbrightlights.Sometimesthepeoplecarryingsignsshout,“FreeRuby!FreeRuby!”

“Ivan,”Rubyasks,“whyarethosepeopleyellingmyname?Aretheymadatme?”

“They’remad,”Isay,“butnotatyou.”

Aweeklater,theinspectingmancomesbackwithafriend,awomanwithsmart,darkeyeslikemymother’s.Shehasawhitecoaton,andshesmellslikelobeliablossoms.Herhairisthickandbrown,thecolorofarottenbranchteemingwithlusciousants.

Shewatchesmeforalongtime.ThenshewatchesRuby.

Shetalkstotheman.TheybothtalktoMack.ThemangivesMackasheetofpaper.

Mackcovershisface.

Hegoestohisofficeandslamsthedoor.

newbox

Somethingstrangeishappening.Thewhite-coatedwomanisbackwithotherhumans.

Theyplacealargeboxinthecenterofthering.

It’sRubysized.

AndsuddenlyIknowwhythewomanishere.She’sheretotakeRubyaway.

training

ThewomanleadsRubytothebox.Sheplacesanappleinside.“Goodgirl,Ruby,”shesayskindly.“Don’tbeafraid.”

Rubyinspectstheboxwithhertrunk.Thewomanmakesaclickingsoundwithalittlepieceofmetalsheisholdinginherhand.ShegivesRubyapieceofcarrot.

EachtimeRubytouchesthebox,shegetsaclickandatreat.

“Whyisshemakingthatclickingnoise?”IaskBob.

“They do that to dogs all the time,” Bob says. I can tell he doesn’t approve. “It’s called clickertraining.TheywantRubytoassociatethenoisewiththetreat.Whenshedoessomethingtheywant,theymakethatnoise.”

“Greatjob,Ruby,”thewomansays.“You’reaquickstudy.”

Aftermanyclicksandcarrots,shetakesRubybacktohercage.

“WhyisthatladygivingmecarrotswhenItouchthebox?”Rubyasksme.

“Ithinkshewantsyoutogoinside,”Iexplain.

“Butthere’snothinginside,”Rubysays,“exceptanapple.”

“Insidethatbox,”Isay,“isthewayout.”

Rubytiltsherhead.“Idon’tgetit.”

“See thepictureof the redgiraffeon thebox? I think the lady is from thezoo,Ruby. I think she’sgettingreadytotakeyouthere.”

IwaitforRubytotrumpetwithjoy,butinsteadshejuststaresattheboxinsilence.

“I’m not sure you understand. That box might be taking you to a place where there are otherelephants,”Isay.“Aplacewithmoreroom,andhumanswhocareaboutyou.”

ButevenasIsaythesewords,IrememberwithashudderthelastboxIwasin.

“Idon’twantazoo,”Rubysays.“IwantyouandBobandJulia.Thisismyhome.”

“No,Ruby,”Isay.“Thisisyourprison.”

pokingandprodding

Theladycomesagain.Shebringsananimaldoctorwithanawfulsmellandadangerous-lookingbag.

HespendsanhourwithRuby,pokingandprodding.Helooksathereyes,herfeet,hertrunk.

Whenhe’sdonewithRuby,heentersmycage.IwishIcouldhideunderNot-TaglikeBob.

InsteadIdoanice,loudchestbeat,andafteramomentthedoctorretreats.

“We’regoingtoneedtoputthisoneunder,”hesays.

I’mnotquitesurewhathemeans.ButIstrutaroundmycagefeelingvictoriousanyway.

nopainting

Nooneasksmetopainttoday.NooneasksRubytoperform.

Therearenoshows.Novisitors,unlessyoucounttheprotesters.

Mackstaysinhisofficeallday.

moreboxes

Iwakeupfromalongmorningnap.Bobisonmybelly,butheisn’tasleep.He’swatchingthering,wherefourmenareplacingalargemetalbox.

It’smesized.

“What’sthat?”Iask,stillblurryfromsleep.

Bobnuzzlesmychin.“Ibelievethatboxisforyou,myfriend.”

I’mnotsurewhathemeans.“Me?”

“Theybroughtinabunchofboxeswhileyouweresleeping.Lookstomelikethey’retakingthewholelotofyou,”hesayscasually,lickingapaw.“EvenThelma.”

“Taking?”Irepeat.“Takinguswhere?”

“Well, some to the zoo, probably.Others to an animal shelterwhere humanswill try to find themhomes.”Bobshakeshimself.“So.Iguessallgoodthingsmustcometoanend,huh?”

Hisvoiceisbright,buthiseyesarefarawayandsad.“I’mgoingtomissyourstomach,bigguy.”

Bobshutshiseyes.Hemakesanoddnoiseinhisthroat.

“But…whataboutyou?”Iask.

Ican’ttellifBob’sjustpretendingtosleep,buthedoesn’tanswer.

Igazeatthehuge,shadowybox,andsuddenlyIunderstandhowRubyfeels.Idon’twanttogointothatbox.

ThelasttimeIwasinabox,mysisterdied.

good-bye

WhenGeorgeandJuliacomethatnight,Georgedoesn’tgethismoporhisbroom.HegathersuphistoolsandbelongingswhileJuliarunstomycage.

“Thisismylastnight,Ivan,”shesays,andshepressesherpalmtomyglass.“Mackfiredmydad.”Tears slip down her cheeks. “But the zoo lady saidmaybe they’ll have an opening there in a while,cleaningcagesandstuff.”

Iwalktotheglassthatseparatesus.IputmyhandwhereJulia’sis,palmtopalm,fingertofinger.Myhandisbigger,butthey’renotsoverydifferent.

“I’mgoing tomissyou,”Juliasays.“AndRubyandBob.But this isagoodthing, really it is.Youdeserveadifferentlife.”

IstareintoherdarkeyesandwishIhadwordsforher.

Sniffling,shegoestoRuby’scage.“Haveagoodlife,Ruby,”shesays.

Rubymakesalittlerumblingsound.SheputshertrunkbetweenthebarsandtouchesJulia’sshoulder.

“Where isBob,anyway?”Juliaasks.She looksaround,under tables, inmycage,by the trashcan.“Dad,”shecalls,“haveyouseenBob?”

“Bob?Nope,”Georgesays.

Julia’sbrowwrinkles.“What’sgoing tohappen tohim,Dad?What ifMackshutsdown thewholemall?”

“Hesayshe’sgoingtotrytokeepitopenwithouttheanimals,”Georgesays.Hestuffshishandsinhispockets.“I’mworriedaboutBobtoo.Buthe’sasurvivor.”

“Youknowwhat,Dad?”Juliagetsagleaminhereye.“Bobcouldlivewithus.Momlovesdogs,andhecouldkeephercompany,and—”

“Jules,I’mnotevensureIhaveajobyet.Imaynotevenbeabletofeedyou,letalonesomemutt.”

“Mydog-walkingmoney—”

“Sorry,Jules.”

Julianods.“Iunderstand.”

Shestartstoleave,thenrunsbacktomycage.“Ialmostforgot.Thisisforyou,Ivan.”

Sheslipsapieceofpaperintomycage.It’sadrawingofRubyandme.

We’reeatingyogurtraisins.Rubyisplayingwithanotherbabyelephant,andI’mholdinghandswitha

lovelygorilla.

Shehasredlipsandaflowerinherhair.

Ilook,asIalwaysdoinJulia’spictures,likeanelegantfellow,butsomethingisdifferentaboutthisdrawing.

Inthispicture,Iamsmiling.

Thedoortomycageisproppedopen.Ican’tstopstaringatit.

Mydoor.Open.

Thegiantboxhasbeenmoved,andit’sopentoo.Thehumanshavepusheditupagainstmydoorway.

IfIwalkthroughmydoor,Ientertheirbox.

Thezoolady,whosenameisMaya,ishereagain.

Click.Yogurtraisin.

Click.Tinymarshmallow.

Click.Ripepapaya.

Click.Appleslice.

Hourafterhour,clickafterclick.

IlookoveratRuby.ShewaitstoseewhatIwilldo.

Itouchthebox.

Isniffthedarkinterior,wherearipemangoawaits.

Click,click,click.

Ihavetodoit.Rubyiswatchingmefrombetweenthebarsofhercage,andthisboxisthewayout.

Istepinside.

anidea

AfterIleavetheboxandstepbackintomycage,Igetanidea,agoodone.

ItellBobhecansneakintomyboxwithmeandliveatthezoo.

“Haveyouforgotten?I’mawildbeast,Ivan,”hesays,sniffingthefloorforcrumbs.“Iamuntamed,undaunted.”

Bobsamplesapieceofceleryandspitsitout.“Besides,they’dnotice.Humansaredumb,butthey’renotthatdumb.”

respect

“Ivan?”Rubysays.“Doyouthinktheotherelephantswilllikeme?”

“Ithinkthey’llloveyou,Ruby.You’llbepartoftheirfamily.”

“Doyouthinktheothergorillaswilllikeyou?”Rubyasks.

“I’ma silverback,Ruby.A leader.” I pull backmy shoulders andholdmyheadhigh. “Theydon’thavetolikeme.Theyhavetorespectme.”

EvenasItellherthis,IwonderifIcanevercommandtheirrespect.

Ihaven’thadmuchpracticebeingarealgorilla,muchlessasilverback.

“Doyouthinktheotherelephantswillknowanyjokes?”

“Iftheydon’t,”Itellher,“youcanteachthem.”

Rubyflapsherears.Sheflickshertail.“Youknowwhat,Ivan?”

“What?”Iask.

“IthinkI’mgoingtogointheboxtomorrow.”

Igazeatherfondly.“Ithinkthat’sagoodidea.AndIthinkStellawouldhaveagreed.”

“Doyouthinktheotherelephantswillknowhowtoplaytag?Ilovetag.”

“Metoo,”Isay,andIthinkofmynimblesisterracingthroughthebrush,alwaysjustoutofmyreach.

Lateatnight,Mackopensmycage.Thefullmoonfallsonhissaggingshoulders.Heseemssmallersomehow.

Bob,instantlyalert,leapsoffmystomachanddivesunderNot-Tag.

“Don’tbotherhiding,dog,”Macksays.“Iknowyousleepinhere.”Macksettlesontomytireswing.“Mightaswellstayonemorenight.Yourbuddy’sleavingtomorrow.”

Tomorrow? My stomach drops. I’m not ready. I need more time. I haven’t said my good-byes. Ihaven’tthoughtthisthrough.

Mackpullsasmallphotooutofhisshirtpocket.It’smewhenIwasyoung.MackandIareinthefrontseatofhisconvertible.

I’mwearingabaseballcapandeatinganicecreamcone.

Iwasahandsomelad,butIhavetoadmitIlookridiculous.Nothinglikearealgorilla.

“Wehadsomelaughs,didn’twe,guy?”Macksays.“Rememberwhenwewentonthatrollercoaster?OrthattimeItriedtoteachyoutoplaybasketball?”Mackshakeshishead,chuckling.“Youhadalousyjumpshot.”

Hestands,sighs,looksaround.Heputsthephotobackinhispocket.

“I’mgoingtomissyou,Ivan,”hesays,andthenheleaves.Hedoesn’tlookback.

leaving

Earlyinthemorning,Mayaarriveswithmanyotherhumans.

Somehavewhitecoats.Somehaverustlingpapers.Theyarehushed,busy,determined.

Rubyentersherboxfirst.

“I’mscared,Ivan,”shecallsfrominsidethebox.“Idon’twanttoleaveyou.”

Apartofmedoesn’twanthertoleaveeither,butIknowIcan’ttellherthat.

“Thinkofalltheamazingstoriesyoucansharewithyournewfamily,”Isay.

Rubyfallssilent.

“I’lltellthemyourelephantjoke,”shesaysafteralongpause.“Theoneabouttherefrigerator.”

“Ibetthey’dlikethat.AndbesuretotellthemaboutBobandJuliaandme.”Iclearmythroat.“AndStella.”

“I’llremembereveryone,”Rubysays.“Especiallyyou.”

BeforeIcansayanymore,theyrollhercageouttoawaitingtruck.

It’smyturn.

Bobishidinginacorner,behindmypool.Thehumansdon’tevennoticehim.

Whilethey’rebusymakingsuremyboxisready,Bobsneaksover.Helicksmychin,justincasethereareanyleftovers.

“You,”Iwhisper,“aretheOneandOnlyBob.”

IreachforNot-Tag.Sheisalimpragwithoutherstuffing.Dribblesofpaintcoverherfur.

IholdherouttoBob.Hetiltshishead,confused.

“Tohelpyousleep,”Isay.

Bobtakesherinhisteethandslipsaway.

goodboy

“GoodIvan,goodboy,”MayasayswhenIlumberintomybox.Iheartheclicker,andI’mrewardedwithatinymarshmallow.

WhenI’msettled,Mayagivesmeasweetdrinkthattastesofmangoandsomethingbitter.

Myeyelidsgrowheavy.Iwanttoseewhathappensnext,butIamsleepy,sosleepy.

IdreamI’mwithTagandwe’reswingingfromvineswhileStellawatches.Thesunslicesthroughthethickceilingoftreesandthebreezetasteslikefruit.

moving

Myeyesflutteropen.

Theboxismoving.

Iaminthegrumblingbellyofsomegreatbeast.

Ifallbackasleep.

awakening

Iawaketoglassandsteel.It’sanewcagenotunlikemyoldcage,exceptthatit’smuchcleaner.

Maya’shere,andotherhumansIrecognize.

“Heythere,Ivan,”Mayasays.“He’scomingto,guys.”

Ihavethreewallsofglass.Thefourthwallisacurtainofwoodenslatsstrungtogether.

Thisdoesn’tlooklikethezoosonTV.Wherearetheotheranimals?

Wherearethegorillas?

IsthiswhereRubyendedup?Inacagejustlikeheroldcage,stillalone?Isshecold?Hungry?Sad?

Isthereanyonetotellherstorieswhenshecan’tgettosleep?

missing

Imissmyoldcozycage.

Imissmyart.

Butmostofall,ImissBob.

Mybelly’scoldwithouthim.

Thefoodisfinehere.

Nosoda,though,orcottoncandy.

notfamous

Ihavenovisitorshere,nosticky-fingeredchildrenorwearyparents.

OnlyMayaandherhumanscome,withtheirsoothingvoicesandsofthands.

IwonderifIhavestoppedbeingfamous.

somethingintheair

Endlessdayspass,andthenInoticesomething.

Achange.

Idon’tknowwhatitis,butItasteitintheair,likefaroffraincloudsgathering.

anewtv

MayabringsmeaTV.Itisbiggerthanmyoldone.

Sheturnsiton.“Ithinkyou’regoingtolikethisshow,”shesays,smiling.

I’mhopingforaromance,ormaybeaWestern.

Butit’sanatureshow,onewithouthumanvoicesorads.It’sashowaboutgorillasbeinggorillas.Iwatchthemeatandgroomandplay-fight.Ievenwatchthemsleep.

IwonderwhyMackneverputonthischannel.

thefamily

EverydayIwatchthegorillasontheTVscreen.It’sasmallfamilyandanoddone,justthreefemalesandajuvenilemale,withoutasilverbacktoprotectthem.

Theygroomeachotherandeat andsleep, thengroomeachother somemore.Theyareacontentedgroup,placidandgood-natured,although,likeanyfamily,theybickerfromtimetotime.

excited

Thismorning,forsomereason,thereisnogorillashowonTV.

Mayaandtheotherhumansareexcited.Theychirplikebirdsatdawn.

“Today’stheday,”theysay.

I’vewatchedmanyhumanswatchme,butneverhavetheylookedsohappy.

Mayagoestothewallofwoodenslats.

Shegrinsgoofily.

Shepullsastring.

whatIsee

Gorillas.

Threefemalesandajuvenilemale.

It’sthefamilyI’vebeenwatching.Butthey’renotonaTVscreen.

They’reontheothersideoftheglass,watchingmewatchingthem.

Iseeme.

Lotsofme.

stillthere

Icovermyeyes.

Ilookagain.

Theyarestillthere.

watching

Everyday,Iwatchthemthroughmywindow,thewaymyvisitorsusedtowatchme.

Seehowtheychase,groom?Seehowtheyplay,sleep?Seehowtheylive?

They’regracefulthewayStellawas,movingjustenough,onlyasmuchastheyneed.

Theystareatme,headstilted,pointingandhooting,andIwonder:AretheyasfascinatedbymeasIambythem?

Herhootsmakemyearshurt.

Iadmireherintactcaninesfromafar.

HernameisKinyani.

She is faster than I am, spry and probably smarter, although I am twice her size and that, too, isimportant.

Sheisterrifying.

Andbeautiful,likeapaintingthatmoves.

Todaythehumansleadmetoadoor.

Ontheotherside,Kinyaniandtheotherswaitforme.

I’mnotreadyforthis.I’mnotreadytobeasilverback.

I’mIvan,justIvan,onlyIvan.

Idecideit’snotagooddaytosocialize.

I’lltryagaintomorrow.

wondering

AllnightIlieawake,wonderingaboutRuby.

HasshealreadywalkedthroughadoorliketheoneI’mfacing?

WassheasscaredasIam?Scaredthewayshemusthavebeenthatdayshefellinthehole?

IthinkofRuby’sendlesscuriosity,andofthequestionsshelovedtoask.Haveyoueverdancedwithatiger,Ivan?Willyourfurturnblue?Whydoesn’tthatlittleboyhaveatail?

IfRubywereherewithme,she’dbeasking:What’sontheothersideofthedoor,Ivan?

Rubywouldwanttoknow,andshewouldhavebeenthroughthatdoorbynow.

“Wanttotryagain,Ivan?”Mayaasks.IthinkofRuby,andItellmyselfit’stime.

Thedooropens.

outsideatlastSky.Grass.Tree.Ant.Stick.Bird.Dirt.Cloud.Wind.Flower.Rock.Rain.Mine.Mine.Mine.

Isniff,approach,strutabit,buttheothersdon’twelcomeme.Theyhavesharpteethandloudvoices.

DidIdosomethingwrong?

Kinyanichasesme.Shethrowsastickatme.Shecornersme.

Iknowthatshe’stestingmetoseeifI’matruesilverback,onewhocanprotectherfamily.

Icowerandhidemyeyes.

Mayaletsmebackintomycage.

whatitwaslike

Ilieawakeandtrytorememberwhatitwaslike,beingagorilla.

Howdidwemove?Howdidwetouch?Howdidweknowwhowasboss?

Itrytothinkpastthebabiesandthemotorbikesandthepopcornandtheshortpants.

ItrytoimagineIvanashemighthavebeen.

pretending

Thejuvenilemaleapproaches.He’seyeingmyfoodhungrily.

IimagineadifferentIvan,myfather’sson.

Igrumbleandswatandswagger.Ibeatmychesttillthewholeworldhears.

Kinyaniwatches,andsodotheothers.

Imovetowardtheyoungupstart,andheretreats.

AlmostasifhebelievesI’mthesilverbackI’mpretendingtobe.

I’mmakinganestontheground.Itisn’tatruejunglenest.Theleavesareinferiorandthesticksarebrittle.TheysnapwhenIweavethemintoplace.

Theotherswatch,gruntingtheirdisapproval:toosmall,tooflimsy,anuglythingtosee.

ButwhenIclimbintothatleafycradle,it’slikefloatingontreetopmist.

moretv

Mayawantsmetogobacktomyglasscage.Icantell,becausesheistemptingmetowardthedoorwithatrailoftinymarshmallows.

Itrytoignoreher.Idon’twanttoleavetheoutside.It’sacloudlessday,andI’vefoundjusttherightspotforanap.ButIrelentwhensheaddsyogurtraisinstothetrail.Sheknowsmyweaknessesall toowell.

Intheglasscage,theTVison.It’sanothernatureshow,jerkyandunfocused.

Iexpecttoseegorillas,butnoneappear.

Ihearashrillsound,likeatoytrumpet.

Myheartquickens.

Irushclosetothescreen,andtheresheis.

Sheisrollinginalovelypoolofmudwithtwootheryoungelephants.

Anotherelephantapproaches.ShetowersoverRuby.ShestrokesRuby,nudgesher.Shemakessoftnoises.

They stand side by side, just the way Stella and Ruby used to do. Their trunks entwine. I seesomethingnewinRuby’seyes,andIknowwhatitis.

It’sjoy.

Iwatchthewholething,andthenMayaplaysitagainforme,andagain.AtlastsheturnsofftheTVandcarriesitoutofthecage.

Iputmyhandtotheglass.Mayalooksover.

Thankyou,Itrytosaywithmyeyes.Thankyou.

Kinyaniamblestowardme.Shetapsmeontheshoulderandknucklerunsaway.

Iwatchher,armscrossedovermychest.I’mcarefulnottomakeasound.

I’mnotsurewhatwe’redoing.

Sheamblesback,shovesatme,dashespast.AndthenIrealizewhat’shappening.

We’replaying.

We’replayingtag.

AndI’mit.

romance

Makeeyecontact.

Showyourform.

Strut.

Grunt.

Throwastick.

Gruntsomemore.

Makesomemoves.

Romanceishardwork.

ItlookssoeasyonTV.

I’mnotsureIwillevergetthehangofit.

moreaboutromance

IwishBobwerehere.Icouldusesomeadvice.

Itrytorecallalltheromancemovieswewatchedtogether.

Irememberthetalking,thehugging,thefacelicking.

I’mnotverygoodatthis.

Butit’sfuntrying.

grooming

Isthereanythingsweeterthanthetouchofanotherasshepullsadeadbugfromyourfur?

Gorillasaren’tchatty,likehumans,pronetogossipandbadjokes.

Butnowandagainweswapastoryunderthesun.

Onedayit’smyturn.

ItellmytroopaboutMackandRubyandBobandStellaandJuliaandGeorge,aboutmymotherandfatherandsister.

WhenIamdone,theylookaway,silent.

Kinyanimovescloser.Hershoulderbrushesmine,andweletthesunsoakintoourfur.Together.

thetopofthehill

I’veexploredeverynookandcrannyofthisplace,exceptforahillatthefarendwhereworkershavebeenrepairingawall.

They’refinallygone.They’veleftbehindfreshwhitebrickandamoundofblackdirt.

Whiletheotherslazeinthemorningsun,Iwanttoexplorethehilltop.They’vebeentherebefore,andIhavenot.Everythingisstillfreshtomyeyes.

Itakemytimegoinguphill,savoringthefeelofgrassonmyknuckles.Thebreezecarriestheshoutsofchildrenandthedrowsyhumofbumblebees.Near the topof thehill isa low-limbedtree, thekindmysisterwouldhaveloved.

Thewallisendless,cleanandwhite,stretchingfardowntothehabitatsbeyondmyown.It’shighandwide,carefullybuilttokeepusinandothersout.

Thisis,afterall,stillacage.

It rained lastnight,and thepileofdirt is soft to the touch. I scoopupahandfulandbreathe in theloamysmell.

It’sarichbrowncolor,heavyandcoolinmypalm.

Andthewallwaits,likeanendlessblankbillboard.

thewall

It’sabigwall.

Butit’sabigpileofdirt,andI’mabigartist.

Islaphandfulsofmudonthewarmcement.Imakeahandprint.

Itapmynosewithamuddyfinger.Imakeanoseprint.

Islidemypalmsupanddown.Themudisthickandhardtouse.ButIkeepmovingandscoopingandspreading.

Idon’tknowwhatI’mmaking,andIdon’tcare.Imakeswoopsandswirlsandthicklines.Figuresandshapes.Lightandshadow.

I’manartistatwork.

WhenI’mdone,Istepbacktoadmiremywork.But it’sa largecanvas,andI’dliketogetabetterview.

Igotothethick-limbedtreeandgrabthelowestbranch.Itrytoswingmylegs.

Umph.Ilandhard.I’mtoobigtoclimb,Isuppose.

Itryagainanyway,andthistimeIpullmyselfontothefirstlimb,gaspingforbreath.

Onemore limb, two, and I can’t go any farther. Perched halfway up the tree, I seemy troop, stilldozingcontentedly.

Itakeinthewall,splatteredandsplashedwithmud.Notmuchcolor,butlotsofmovement.Ilikeit.Itfeelsdreamyandwild,likesomethingJuliamighthavemade.

Frommyseatinthetree,Icanseebeyondthewall.Iseegiraffesandhippos.Iseedeerwithlegslikedelicatetwigs.Iseeabearsnoozinginahollowlog.

Iseeelephants.

She’sfaraway,bellydeepintallgrasswithothersbyherside.

“She’shere,Stella,”Iwhisper.“Ruby’ssafe.JustlikeIpromised.”

IcalltoRuby,butthewindtugsatmywordsandIknowshe’llneverhearme.

Still,Rubypausesforasecond,herearsspreadwideliketinysails.

Then,withlumberinggrace,shemovesonthroughthegrass.

silverback

It’sacloudyevening,chillanddrizzly.Dinnerisonitsway,butIdon’tcare.

Atnightwesleepinourden,butI’malwaysthelasttoheadinside.I’vebeeninsidelongenough.

Thistimeofday,therearen’tmanyvisitors.Justafewstragglers,leaningonthewallthatseparatesus.Theypoint,takeacouplephotos,thenheadovertothenearbygiraffes.

Oneofthekeepersisbeckoning.ReluctantlyIturntogo.

Outofthecornerofmyeye,Iseesomeonerunning.Ipause.

It’sagirlwithdarkhair,luggingabackpack.Amanfollowsbehind,racingtocatchup.

“Ivan!”thegirlyells.“Ivan!”

It’sJulia!

Iscrambletotheedgeofthewidemoatthatskirtsthewall.

JuliaandGeorgewave tome. Idashbackandforth,hootingandgrunting,doingagorilladanceofhappiness.

“Calmdown,”saysavoice.“You’rebehavinglikeachimp.”

Ifreeze.

Atiny,nut-brown,big-earedheadpopsoutofJulia’sbackpack.

“Niceplace,”Bobsays.

“Bob,”Isay.“It’sreallyyou.”

“Intheflesh.”

“How…where…”Ican’tseemtofindanywords.

“George’s job at the zoo doesn’t start till next month, so he and Julia made an agreement. She’swalkingthreeextradogstocovermyfood.Andgetthis:they’reallpoodles.”

“Yousaidyoudidn’twantahome,”Isay.

“Yeah,”Bobsays.“ButJulia’smomlikesmycompany.SoIfigureI’mdoingeverybodyafavor.It’sawin-win.”

JuliapushesBob’sheadback insideherbackpack.“You’renot supposed tobehere,” she remindshim.

“Ivanlooksgreat,doesn’the,Jules?”Georgeasks.“Stronger.Happier,even.”

Juliaholdsupa littlephoto,but it’s too farawayforme tosee.“It’sRuby, Ivan.She’swithotherelephantsnow.Becauseofyou.”

Iknow,Iwanttotellher.Isawwithmyowneyes.

Westareacrosstheexpansethatseparatesus.Afterawhile,GeorgepatsJulia’sarm.“Timetogo,Jules.”

Juliagivesawistfulsmile.“Bye,Ivan.Sayhellotoyournewfamily.”SheturnstoGeorge.“Thankyou,Dad.”

“Forwhat?”

“For—”Shegesturestowardme.“Forthis.”

Theyturntoleave.Thelampsthatlightthezoopathwaysblinkon,blanketingtheworldwithyellowlight.

I can justmake outBob’s little head sticking out of Julia’s backpack. “You are theOne andOnlyIvan,”hecalls.

Inod,thenturntowardmyfamily,mylife,myhome.

“MightySilverback,”Iwhisper.

Acknowledgments

MythankstothetalentedfolksatHarperCollinsfortheirexpertiseandenthusiasm.Aspecialshout-outtoartdirectorextraordinaire,AmyRyan;totheincomparableSarahHoyforherlovelybookdesign;andtocopyeditorRenéeCafiero,thebestinthebiz.

Mostofall,I’mindebtedtoAnneHoppe,myremarkableeditor,whohastheearofapoet,theeyeofanartist,and thepatienceofapreschool teacher(and thoseare justa fewofhersuperpowers).Thankyou,Anne,foreverything.Icouldn’thavedonethiswithoutyou.Really.

Tomyparents,RogerandSuzanne;mysiblings,Stu,Martha,andLisa;mydear,old(butnotthatold!)friendsLisaLeachandSuzanneHultman:IknowhowtrulyluckyIamtohaveyouinmylife.

AndtoJulia,Jake,andMichael:Humanshavesomanywords,morethanwetrulyneed.Still,therearenowordsthatcaneverexpresshowmuchIloveyouall.

AbouttheAuthor

KatherineApplegate’smanybooksincludetheRoscoeRileyRuleschapterbookseriesaswellasthepicturebookTheBuffaloStorm.HernovelHomeoftheBravewasaSchoolLibraryJournalBestBookoftheYearandwonboththeGoldenKiteAwardandtheJosetteFrankAwardforbestchildren’sfiction.Withherhusband,MichaelGrant,shewrotethebestsellingseriesAnimorphs,whichhassoldmorethan35millioncopiesworldwide.

Katherine lives in California with her husband, two children, and an assortment of beloved, ifeccentric,pets.Youcanvisitheronthewebatwww.katherineapplegate.com.

Visitwww.AuthorTracker.comforexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthors.

Author’sNote

TheOneandOnlyIvan isaworkoffiction,buttheinspirationforthisimaginedtaleliesinatruestory.

Ivan,a realgorilla,nowlivesatZooAtlanta,buton theway to thathappyending,hespentalmostthreedecadeswithoutseeinganotherofhisownkind.

AfterbeingcapturedasaninfantinwhatisnowtheDemocraticRepublicoftheCongo(Ivan’stwinsister died en route to the U.S. or shortly thereafter), Ivan was raised in a home until he becameunmanageable.Atthatpointhewasaddedtoanoddcollectionofanimalshousedatacircus-themedmallinWashingtonstate.

Ivanspenttwenty-sevenyearsofhislifealoneinacage.Overtime,asanunderstandingofprimateneedsandbehaviorgrew,publicdiscomfortwithIvan’slonelystategrewaswell,particularlyafterhewasfeaturedinaNationalGeographic specialentitledTheUrbanGorilla.Apublicoutcryfollowed,includingheartfeltlettersfromchildren.WhenthemallwhereIvanlivedwentbankrupt,hewasplacedonpermanentloantoZooAtlanta,whichhousesthelargestgroupofcaptivewesternlowlandgorillasinthenation.

Ivan isnowabelovedcelebrityatZooAtlanta,wherehe livescontentedlywithKinyaniandothergorillas.He’sknownforhispaintings,whichareoften“signed”withhisthumbprint.

IvanandKinyaniarerealgorillas—andso,bytheway,isJambo,whosestoryStellatellstoIvanandBob.Butallothercharactersandsituationsinthisnovelareentirelytheproductofmyimagination.WhenIstartedtowriteaboutthegrimfactsofIvan’ssolitaryexistence,anewtaleslowlybegantotakeshape.At leaston thepage,whereanything ispossible, Iwanted togive Ivan(evenwhilecaptivebehind thewallsofhistinycage)avoiceofhisownandastorytotell.Iwantedtogivehimsomeonetoprotect,andthechancetobethemightysilverbackhewasalwaysmeanttobe.

Credits

Copyright

requiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenon-exclusive,non-transferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,down-loaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinor introducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem, inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.

www.harpercollinschildrens.comLibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataApplegate,Katherine.TheoneandonlyIvan/byKatherineApplegate.—1sted.p.cm.Summary:WhenIvan,agorillawhohaslivedforyearsinadown-and-outcircus-themedmall,meets

Ruby,ababyelephantthathasbeenaddedtothemall,hedecidesthathemustfindherabetterlife.ISBN978-0-06-199225-4(tradebdg.)—ISBN978-0-06-213579-7(int.ed.)EPubEdition©DECEMBER2011ISBN:9780062101983[1.Gorilla—Fiction.2.Elephants—Fiction.3.Animals—Treatment—Fiction.]I.PatriciaCastelao,ill.II.Title.PZ7.A6483On20112011010034[Fic]—dc22CIPAC1213141516LP/RRDH10987654321

FirstEdition

AboutthePublisherAustraliaHarperCollinsPublishers(Australia)Pty.Ltd.25RydeRoad(P.O.Box321)Pymble,NSW2073,Australiawww.harpercollins.com.auCanadaHarperCollinsCanada2BloorStreetEast-20thFloorToronto,ON,M4W,1A8,Canadahttp://www.harpercollins.caNewZealandHarperCollinsPublishers(NewZealand)LimitedP.O.Box1Auckland,NewZealandhttp://www.harpercollins.co.nzUnitedKingdomHarperCollinsPublishersLtd.77–85FulhamPalaceRoadLondon,W68JB,UKhttp://www.harpercollins.co.ukUnitedStatesHarperCollinsPublishersInc.10East53rdStreetNewYork,NY10022http://www.harpercollins.com

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