“Agreed.”
“So we just walk away?”
“Yes, to fight other battles. Battles we have a chance to win.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Swifty won’t survive him.”
“Probably not. But she might not have survived Raki either.”
I hang up and run toward the animal building.
35
“Dr. Tinibu signed an NDA. You signed an agreement, too. The big tent isn’t an approved location.”
It’s the first thing Otis says when I enter Swifty’s pen. He saw me in the tent. Now he’s sitting, calm as can be, beside Swifty with a bottle of formula in his hand. The calf takes a few sips while Flea watches, one paw resting on Nibs. Somewhere between Pennington and Haven, the rabbit lost his remaining eye.
“Did you take a video?”
I cross my arms. “Yes.”
“You can’t use it.”
Incredulity makes my voice too loud. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Yes.”
Otis’s lower lip is split. There’s a bluish bruise at the corner of his mouth. He adjusts the bottle. Swifty takes another swallow of formula. I sit down across from them. Flea brings over Nibs, wet with saliva. I push the stuffed animal away. “I don’t care about what I signed.”
“You should. We’ll crush you, the paper and your family.”
“You sound proud.”
“I do my job. You have no right to judge me.”
I meet Otis’s gaze. It’s no longer hard, because I hate him. “Okay,” I say. “Why don’t you judge you, then? What do you think about a guy who loved elephants so much when he was a kid that he slept beside them? Even the most dangerous one, who came to the circus too young and needed a friend. But when that boy grew up, he became so callous that when another young elephant needed his help, he turned away. He not only let her get hurt, he was willing to let her die rather than take a stand. How would you judge that guy?”
Otis presses his back against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know that your family is willing to let Howard hurt Swifty rather than step in, take away his big elephant tamer title.”
“Trainer.”
“I recognize the distinction. You’re all cowards.”
“Howard would agree.” Otis picks at a frayed spot on his jeans. “Your articles have gone national. You’ve gotten what you wanted. Go to a fancy college. Become a great reporter. Live the dream.”
He’s right. The AP will pick up my third article, because it’s way better than the first two. USC admissions will read it; they’ll see I’m capable of writing a good story. I may actually get into their journalism school. Sawyer would high-five me right now if he still cared. “Swifty is no longer a means to an end,” I say. It’s true. She matters more than my own selfish goals.
Otis shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Just drop it, Lily. You’re out of here in two days. Erase the video. We’d never let your newspaper use it anyway. If you send it to the Pennington Times, their lawyers will tell your boss there’s no way he can post it. And if you try to post it yourself, our lawyers will get it taken down and then sue you and your family. Trust me, they’ll throw a ton of money at this one.”
“Because it’s Howard?”
“Because it’d be a PR nightmare for all of us.”
“Leave,” I say.
“It’s my shift.”
I storm out of the pen, drag the hose coiled in the hallway back. “Hold this.” I shove it into Otis’s hand, go back, turn the lever on the wall to warm, then return to stare at the calf’s behind, heart racing. Otis is watching me. Steeling myself, I slowly ease the rubber hose into Swifty’s butt. There’s not much resistance, but still, it’s pretty freaky. We stand there in the most uncomfortable silence ever. Swifty glances back at us. “It’s just an inside bath,” I tell her. “We’ll be done soon.” When the water flows freely around the hose, I slide it out. A trickle of sweat rolls down my back. But I did it.
Otis gets a bucket of soapy water from the hall. We work together to clean Swifty’s legs. While Otis gets rid of the soiled straw, I help the calf lie down and cover her with a blanket. Her trunk wraps around my wrist, drawing me close. I trace the horizontal lines that band her trunk. “Doesn’t she matter at all to you?”
“It’s complicated,” Otis says.
“Try me.”
“Why would I tell you anything?”
“Because you’re not on my approved interview list,” I snap, “so your secrets are safe with me.” He slides down the cinderblock wall, pulls up his knees, resting his chin on them. He looks more than beat-up; he looks bone-tired, totally alone. It strikes me that Tina Walker has Maximus—they’re a united team. Howard clearly has his parents’ love and approval. But Otis’s family doesn’t respect him and there’s no evidence they care. He’s watching me, eyes narrowed, like he’s trying to figure something out. The look in his eyes is recognizable—he’s adrift in an ocean, too. “There’s another reason,” I say quietly. “Maybe you don’t have anybody else willing to listen.”
“I tell you one truth, you tell me one?”
“Yes.”
“Off the record?”
It doesn’t matter anymore. “Yes.”
“When I was seven, one of the workers took an interest in me. I was the kind of kid pedophiles target. A loner. Ignored by my parents. Looking for attention beyond what I got being with the elephants.”
Otis meets my gaze. I don’t say anything; giving him the time to find the words.
“The guy took me fishing, bought me candy, which is such a fucking cliché, but it’s true. One night I was sleeping outside Tambor’s pen. I woke up to the guy unbuttoning my jeans. Nothing happened. But it was heading that way.”
“I’m—”
“Shut up,” Otis says. “You wanted to know. Howard was in the building late, messing with the tigers probably. They were his obsession. Tina and Max ate that up with a spoon. Even let him take cubs home, sleep with them in his bed. Anyway, Howard came around the corner. He saw the guy trying to get into my pants, launched into the creep. The guy was on his back, scrabbling away, when Howard jumped on him, bashed his head against the concrete.”
“You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
“I’m just getting to the good part.” The cut on his lip cracks. He licks away dots of blood. “When the guy tried to break free, Howard hit him so hard I heard his jaw break. Howard kept punching. I lost count. But the sound was wet, like water sloshing in a bowl, you know?”
I don’t know. So I don’t say anything.
“The guy was out cold, but Howard kept going. Blood splattered everywhere. Howard’s fists were dripping with it. There was a puddle of red under the guy’s head. I screamed at my brother, tried to stop him.”
“Did he? Stop?”
“Yeah, to grab a pitchfork. Howard stabbed the guy twenty-two times. I can still hear the sound of the tines going through skin, muscle, hitting bone. Maybe the guy was dead before that. I hope so.”
“What happened next?” My mouth is so dry that each word makes a clicking sound.
“Howard was charged with manslaughter.”
“Even though he was defending you?”
Otis laughs, the sound joyless, brittle. “That’s the thing. Howard hated me, even then. Not big-brother stuff. Hate. Maybe it was because he wanted Walker’s all for himself. Maybe he was jealous because of how I was with the elephants. I don’t know. But when he killed that guy, he wasn’t doing it for me.”
“How can you be sure?”
Otis meets my gaze. “Because he was smiling.”
He taps out a cigarette, sp
ins it over his knuckles. “I was supposed to testify on Howard’s behalf. Say that the worker had molested me before; that he was going to do it again; that I was begging him to stop when the whole thing went down. But the guy hadn’t. He didn’t. He probably would have. But he didn’t get the chance. Max tried to literally beat it into me with a belt that I was a victim, but I knew I wasn’t. Least not the way he meant. So I refused to lie to the DA. I was just a kid, you know? I had no idea what was going to happen to my brother.”
How long am I going to have to pay for that?
As long as I can remember what happened to me for four years because of you.
“Howard went to prison?”
Otis nods. “He was sentenced to ten years. Four at a juvenile facility, then, when he turned eighteen, he was supposed to go to an adult prison for another six.”
“He deserved to go.”
“How much do you know about juvenile correctional facilities?”
“Nothing.”
Otis picks up a piece of straw, slowly tearing it in half. “In Florida, at least at the time, they were all privately operated.”
“Meaning?”
“They weren’t subject to full oversight by public officials. Howard was at a facility with a history of more sexual abuse scandals than any of the others. He wasn’t a runt, but he wasn’t strong yet. He went through hell.”
The photo of Howard’s eighteenth birthday runs through my mind. “He was supposed to go to prison for ten years. But he was out by his eighteenth birthday?”
Flea climbs onto Otis’s lap. He runs a hand along the mutt’s back. “Howard was released early for good behavior. I think my folks made some kind of deal not to sue or go public about what’d happened to my brother in juvie, if the state agreed to an early release. They also sealed Howard’s record so he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life as a convicted felon.” Otis tosses the piece of straw. There are gray smudges under his eyes, like the story just aged him.
“Howard served the final year of his sentence under house arrest,” Otis says.
The ankle brace Howard was wearing in his eighteenth birthday photo suddenly makes sense. It was a tracking device used for probation. Other things make sense, too. “When Howard got out of prison, he chose elephants.”
“Yeah, to hurt me. After what happened to him? My parents weren’t going to deny Howard anything. Max also wanted to punish me for not standing up for my brother. He tried to push me into working with the tigers or bears, but I wasn’t interested. That pissed my father off even more.”
“You’re better with the elephants. Doesn’t that matter?”
“Not really. Tina and Max blame me for how Howard has turned out, can’t let it go, and refuse to acknowledge that he was always off. Plus, there’s a heavy kind of guilt associated with not being able to protect Howard from what happened to him in jail.”
“So Max and Tina let him abuse his elephants?”
“They’re pragmatists. Howard’s act is a big draw. Tina and Max don’t approve of his drinking, but most of the time Howard does keep it in check. My folks also have a different perspective. They know that wild animals are dangerous, that there’s a fine line between training and abuse.”
“A fine line?” I demand.
“Lily, Bengals do not naturally leap through rings of fire.”
“Max said he only uses positive reinforcement.” I hang my head, fingers digging into my scalp. “I’m an idiot.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think Howard loves his elephants in his own way.”
My head snaps up. “Are you seriously defending him?”
“I’m just...” Otis sighs. “No.”
“Just in case it’s not crystal clear,” I say, “that’s not love. You have to stop him.”
Otis shakes his head. “What happened to Howard, while he was incarcerated? I can’t even imagine it. Lily, I’m not afraid of him. I owe him.”
“You were seven years old.”
“If—”
“If wishes and buts were candy and nuts we’d all have a Merry Christmas.” Otis looks at me like I’m already insane. “Sorry. My counselor’s favorite sayings pop up sometimes.”
“Counselor?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“When I was seven, my mother tried to kill me.” Otis doesn’t react. He just spins the cigarette over his knuckles. I realize it’s his tell. He’s absorbing, thinking.
“How?”
“She tried to throw me off the top of our apartment building.”
“Did your mom die then or later?”
“Later. She committed suicide in prison.” The cigarette makes another trip over Otis’s knuckles. It’s not as bad as I thought, telling Otis the truth. But it’s not the whole truth. I trace the soft folds of Swifty’s ear. “She deserves better.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her. Step in when I can.”
Swifty peers up at me. The line connecting us tightens, constricting the blood flow to my heart. “We’re giving up on her.”
Otis places Swifty’s half-empty bottle back in the fridge. “I’m sorry, Lily.” He walks toward the door. “For what it’s worth, I hope you get into USC.”
“I don’t care about USC anymore.”
“You should. It’s attainable.”
The walls of Swifty’s pen close in. So this is it? Her life if she survives? Chained beside the adult elephants. Swaying. Not to an ancient song embedded in their bones. That’s bullshit. Swaying out of boredom, fear or, worse, a broken mind. Because isn’t that as bad as it gets? Losing who you are? Who you’re meant to be? “Otis.”
Otis stops in the doorway. “Let it go.”
But I can’t. I can’t just let Swifty go. My brain is tangled yarn. Bits of memories, random thoughts, useless quotes form a snarled ball. Daisy was dying...so we contacted Viv Hemming’s Elephant Sanctuary in Texas... I pull out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
I Google Elephant Sanctuary, Texas. Click on the telephone number when it appears. Someone answers after three rings. I put the call on speaker.
“Hemming’s Elephant Sanctuary, can I help you?”
“Daisy,” I say. “Is she still alive?”
“May I ask who’s inquiring?”
“Oh. Sorry. My name is Carla. I’m in grade six, from Detroit? I love elephants so I’m doing a school paper on Daisy. I read about her calf. Super sad. So I wanted to write a paper about how Daisy is doing now that she’s with you guys.”
“Hi, Carla. My name is James Chi. I’m the staff veterinarian at the Sanctuary. And yes, Daisy is holding on. She’s still pretty sad, but she’s been eating more. The other female elephants here are doing their best to make her well. Emotionally, it will help when her milk dries up.”
“Thanks so much.” I hang up.
“You’re a good liar.”
Okay, not very flattering. But he’s right. “An elephant in Detroit lost her calf a few weeks ago. She stopped eating. She was dying. So the zoo gave her to Viv Hemming’s Elephant Sanctuary in Texas. They’ve been trying to save her life.”
“How do you know any of this?”
“Research. Otis, Daisy is still alive. She has milk. She needs Swifty and vice versa. They could save each other if we—”
“First, we are not a team. I work for Wild Walker’s Circus. They’re my family. Second, I already told you that Howard isn’t going to let Swift Jones go. Not to a zoo. Definitely not to a sanctuary.”
I scramble to my feet. “Why not? Once she’s healthy, he can take her back. She’d be older, maybe able to handle things better. At least she’d still be alive.”
Otis shakes his head. “That’s not the way sanctuaries work. Once they take an elephant in, they won’t return them to a bad situation. At least not wit
hout a fight.”
“Then we don’t ask Howard.”
“You’re insane.”
“Texas can’t be more than a few days’ drive from here.”
Otis looks down the hallway. “Lower your voice. What you’re saying, what you want to do? It can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“How would you get Swifty there?”
“Truck.”
“Whose?”
“Walker’s. Except...”
Otis shakes his head. “Just for entertainment, except what?”
“I don’t know how to drive.”
Otis steps back into the pen, puts his hands on either side of my face, just like he did in my dream, except this is real. He smells like soap with a hint of cinnamon.
“I get that you love Swifty. But you can’t save her.”
“Not alone.”
“I can’t help you.”
“I understand that you’re afraid of losing everything you’ve always known, that your family will turn its back on you. That if you’re not Otis Walker of Wild Walker’s Circus you’ll be lost. But you’ll still be you. Maybe just closer.”
“Closer to what?”
“The you that you want to be.”
Otis paces the small enclosure like he’s a trapped animal. “How do you know any of that?”
“Because I’m afraid of some of the same things. But Swifty is more important than all of them.”
“You’ll get arrested. Swifty is worth a lot of money. You could go to prison.”
“I’ve been told by Esmerelda that I’m too skinny. Stripes will be flattering on me.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Otis says. “You signed an agreement that is legal, binding. And you can’t just steal a calf in one of our trucks. The cops will pull you over within hours.”
“I’ll figure something out. Get a different van once Swifty is away from here.”
“You’re what? Eighteen? You can’t even legally rent a car.”
“Then I’ll borrow one.”
Otis rolls his eyes. “Now you’re a car thief? Lily, maybe Swifty will be okay.”
“Would Tambor agree that okay is enough?” It’s a low blow, and he flinches.
When Elephants Fly Page 21
