Dumbo

by Kari Sutherland

Clank. Brugelbecker’s team slid the ramp up under the flatbed and climbed into the truck.

  “Viel Glück, Max Medici,” Brugelbecker called. “Tell your ‘brother’ I said auf Wiedersehen.”

  Joe broke away, running for the tents, Milly just steps behind him. Still at the baby elephant’s side, Holt saw them leave with another stab of regret. But he had to do his job. The truck churned off, sending dust flying. Long after it was out of sight, everyone could hear Mrs. Jumbo crying out and her son answering pitifully.

  A ripping sound woke Milly in the middle of the night. Sitting up, she found her father perched on a crate. He was ripping up papers by trapping one end under his boot and then yanking back with his good hand on the other side. Everything went into the trash bin.

  Bleary eyes found hers. “Darling, it’s late.”

  Dumping the last scraps into the bin, he staggered out of the tent and into the night. Curious, Milly moved over to investigate the bin. Inside she found her dad’s new fake arm and a stack of Stallion Stars publicity shots. Her father had torn them right down the center, splitting himself off from their mother. Milly reached in to rescue a few of her favorites and tucked the pieces into her trunk. Her father might want them back later.

  She wrapped a jacket around her shoulders and checked on Joe, but he appeared to be asleep, so she ducked out of the tent. She knew someone else who was probably having trouble sleeping and might like some company.

  The baby elephant lay on the hay, looking like a popped balloon. He didn’t lift his head or even twitch as Milly slipped inside the boxcar with him, but his eyes were open, gazing at the wall. In the corner, the mice squeaked a welcome. Milly sank to the floor and petted the elephant’s head.

  His eyes rolled back toward her before sliding away.

  “I know. I can’t sleep, either,” she said. She fingered the key she wore around her neck. “My mama told me there’d be times when my life seemed locked behind a door. So she gave me this key that her mama gave her. She said whenever I have that feeling, imagine that door and just turn the key.”

  The elephant peered at her as though asking, Does it work?

  Milly shrugged. “I keep trying.”

  Picking up one of his soft ears, she stroked the outside, smoothing it across her lap. When she paused, he flicked it at her, so she smiled and kept patting.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here alone,” someone said.

  Joe stood in the boxcar door, his pillow in hand, but it was a lot lumpier than usual.

  “I’m not alone now. You’re here,” she said. “What’s that?”

  “I just thought he might be hungry,” Joe said as he joined her. He opened the pillowcase, showing her the mound of peanuts inside.

  Milly shook her head. “He’s sad. You don’t eat when you’re sad.”

  “The mermaid does,” Joe countered. He knelt down next to Milly and sprinkled some peanuts in front of the elephant, but the baby didn’t even sniff them.

  “Come on. Have one, Dumbo.” Joe nudged a few closer, so they were almost touching his trunk.

  “We’re calling him Dumbo now?” Milly wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “If we call him Baby Jumbo, it might make him miss his mom,” her brother explained.

  Milly picked up a peanut, turning it over. “Here you go, Junior.” She waved it in front of his trunk. “Little Guy. Big Ears.”

  “C’mon, just say it.”

  “Here you go, Dumbo,” Milly said, giving in. “Flap those ears again, to show us we didn’t imagine it.”

  Dumbo refused to move.

  Milly dropped the peanut and Joe scooped the handful of them off the floor and stashed them in his pillowcase again.

  “She didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Joe said, scratching Dumbo’s back. “She was just protecting you. And we think your ears are great.”

  When Dumbo still didn’t respond, Joe’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe he wants to be alone. Like Dad.”

  “Nobody wants to be alone,” Milly sighed, getting to her feet.

  Joe stood up, too, then poured the peanuts into a big pile on the floor.

  “Well, if you change your mind…Night-night, Dumbo,” he said.

  Joe tucked his pillow under his arm, and he and Milly turned to leave the boxcar. A few feathers drifted out of the pillow as they walked away, then a few more. Dumbo’s eyes caught on them and his trunk crept toward them. He lurched after the kids, trunk-first, vacuuming up the trail of feathers falling in their wake.

  “Ah-ah-ah-achooo!” Dumbo sneezed.

  Milly and Joe whirled and saw Dumbo hovering behind them, ears flapping, a small smile on his face. Milly’s eyes nearly fell out of her head and Joe’s jaw dropped.

  Another feather slipped out of the case and Dumbo zeroed in on it, shooting toward it with a cute little spin of his tail. He caught the feather, but was so excited he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and bumped into the wall, landing in a pile of hay.

  “Did you see that?” Milly shrieked.

  “Did you see that?” Joe asked at the same time.

  “I asked you first,” they blurted together. Milly wheeled her arm to point at Dumbo, sending another feather up into the air.

  The elephant leapt forward, ears flapping and trunk out to—swooopft—suck up the feather. His ears flared out in an attempt to slow down, but he crashed into the ceiling anyway, and then careened toward the far wall. Wrapping his ears around himself, he bounced off the wall like a ball and rolled along the floor…straight toward the kids.

  Milly and Joe dove to the side just in time. With a thump, Dumbo hit the wall where he’d started, this time in an upside-down ball. He wriggled right-side up and peered out at them apologetically.

  “It’s not the peanuts that made him do it—it’s the feathers!” Milly ripped a handful from the pillow’s lining and flung them in the air.

  Dumbo’s tail twirled and he flew up to catch them, but this time he used his ears to steady his flight and managed to steer clear of the walls, circling back to them with three feathers gripped in his trunk. His eyes twinkled and his mouth was open in a wide grin.

  “He’s having fun!” Joe clapped.

  In their cage, the mouse performers chirped and bounced up and down like they were cheering as Dumbo sailed to a perfect stop, four feet flat on the ground.

  Joe raced to one side of the car, scooping up feathers just as his sister ran to the other. They began calling Dumbo back and forth, tossing feathers as high as they could. Dumbo soared into the air, flapping madly to try to collect them all.

  “It’s his ears. He can fly,” Milly said in awe.

  “Kwaaa-chooo!” Dumbo let out a massive sneeze, shooting himself backward. Out of control, he crashed near the mouse cage, and its door popped open. The mice skittered out and darted away, afraid of being trampled. Dumbo lifted Timothy Q. with his trunk to peer at him.

  “Eeek!” Timothy Q. squeaked, not wanting to find himself flying through the air. He jumped off Dumbo’s nose and buried himself in the nearest haystack.

  As Joe gathered up more feathers, Milly stared at the baby elephant. “Dumbo, you gotta do this in the show,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Joe asked.

  Milly turned to him, excitement flushing her cheeks. “Because if the circus sells more tickets and Medici makes more money…then we could get him to use some to buy Mrs. Jumbo back!”

  “Yes!” Joe pumped his fist in the air. “Milly, you are so smart. You will be a scientist someday.”

  Milly rubbed Dumbo’s forehead, pressing her own to his. “We can get her back, Dumbo. You can. You just show them all what you can do.”

  Dumbo leaned into her trustingly.

  “C’mon, we gotta tell Dad!” Joe beelined for the door.

  Milly spun and blocked him, their last conversation with Holt about Dumbo fresh in her mind. “No. He’ll just tell us to be practical.” She paced the floor. “Shows got cancelled for a week, right?” Joe nod
ded. “We can research and study and test.”

  Exhausted, Dumbo flopped to the floor and began shoveling peanuts into his mouth. The kids beamed down at him.

  “You’re a miracle elephant, Dumbo,” Milly said. “And we’re going to bring your mama home.”

  A week later, the circus reopened. Medici had sent performers all throughout Joplin to talk up the newest act and reassure everyone of the beefed-up security measures. A small crowd had shown up and Medici was frantic—running around to make sure nothing went wrong. If tonight’s audience had a good time, ticket sales might triple tomorrow.

  Milly and Joe flanked Dumbo backstage, patting him soothingly as they fitted a yellow rain jacket and black fireman’s hat onto him. Onstage, the clowns were in the midst of their firefighting act, complete with an oversized ladder. The oldest clown, Spiros, swung around on it, toppling his comrades to the audience’s delight. Up above, a platform shaped like a house was ablaze with real flames. Barrymore squeaked dramatically from one of its windows. Below him, a pool of water served as a landing spot, as well as a draw for the clown firemen’s hoses.

  It was all carefully staged; both the clowns and Barrymore were perfectly safe. Even so, Milly and Joe’s stomachs churned. Soon Dumbo would be out there, too. They hadn’t had time to practice the act with the fire. What if he panicked and charged the crowd? Would Medici send him away, too?

  Joe slung a protective arm over the baby elephant while Milly gave him a quick pep talk.

  Unaware of the kids’ plan, Holt peered out at the small audience and fiddled with his costume.

  “This is an all-time low,” he muttered, adjusting the oversized fireman’s jacket and the blindingly bright helmet for the hundredth time.

  Coming to join him, Medici laughed. “Who said he didn’t want to be recognized? You!” He passed the kids and squatted down in front of Dumbo. “Okay, Big D, just like in rehearsal…except with lights, music, fire, and crowds.”

  Milly scratched Dumbo’s ear. “For your mama,” she whispered.

  “Please, God, let them laugh at an elephant clown,” Medici prayed as Holt nudged Dumbo out behind the curtain.

  Lights blinded the little elephant. Noise filled his ears—the cacophony of unfamiliar sounds a deafening roar to his sensitive hearing. Shuffling forward, he stepped on his ear and tumbled to the ground, crashing into a man in front of him.

  Laughter filled the tent. Medici nearly wept with relief. But he didn’t let up his grip on his top hat.

  Spiros, the clown he’d knocked over, sprang up and whirled on Dumbo, fist raised in mock fury. Dumbo cowered back. His head swung side to side as though looking for someone to guide him.

  “Show ’em, Dumbo,” Holt heard Milly say. “You can do it! Show ’em all like you showed us!”

  Holt frowned. What was she talking about? Shaking his head, he let out a sharp, low whistle.

  Dumbo perked up at his cue. Animals liked to know what was expected of them. Dumbo was no different. He trundled over to the pool and sucked up water with his trunk. Several clowns pointed up at the platform above. Dumbo aimed. Holt whistled twice. Dumbo swung on command and—

  Sploooosh!

  The water spray hit the clowns right in their faces, knocking them down. Again, the audience hooted in delight. Dumbo filled his trunk from the pool just as the clowns staggered to their feet. Frantic, they shook their fingers “no” at him and pointed again to the burning platform. At Holt’s whistle—splooosh!—the firemen were blasted to the floor.

  “They love it!” Medici cheered as the audience clapped.

  Onstage, they had moved to the next sequence. A “ladder” ramp was raised and attached to the platform. Following his cues, Dumbo siphoned up water once more, but this time, the clowns and Holt prodded him up the ramp toward the platform. A loud noise from the crowd made Dumbo jump. His eyes darted around the tent, landing on a group of boys flapping their hands like they were ears, mocking him. He sank back, his tail tucked down.

  “He won’t fly,” Joe whispered to his sister. “He’s scared.”

  “I know. And now he’s up too high.” They hadn’t practiced a takeoff from a spot so elevated yet.

  Oblivious to the kids’ conversation, Medici absentmindedly tapped his fingers on his legs in time with the drumroll Rongo was beating out. “Big finish, you always have to have a big finish.” His eyes were glued to the stage.

  With a final push, two clowns got Dumbo up onto the platform with them. Holt whistled from below and Dumbo shot the water out of his trunk right onto the burning window.

  Backstage, one of the crew members dialed down the flames with a control as Medici pumped his fist in joy. Barrymore, the monkey, leapt through the window onto Dumbo’s head and—mwah!—gave him a big kiss. Then the rescued monkey scampered down the ramp. The two clowns up top patted each other on the back and pretended not to notice as the men below unhitched the ramp and swung it away.

  Whirling to where the ramp had been, the clowns flailed madly, then slipped off the platform, plummeting to the pool below. The crowd cheered.

  Alone, Dumbo shifted his weight from foot to foot. Someone was supposed to bring the ramp back now. Instead, the clowns had gotten into a brawl.

  “Oh, dear,” Medici muttered. “They’re improvising. Stay on script!”

  Dumbo peered over the edge of the platform.

  “Okay, guys, let’s get him down.” Holt tried to break up the fight. But the other clowns were caught up in their act, throwing and dodging punches, flipping over the edge of the pool and whacking each other with the ladder.

  One of the clowns ripped off his helmet and flung it at another, but the second clown ducked, so the hat went sailing offstage…right toward the fire controls. The stagehand dove aside and the helmet crashed into the dial, knocking it off the board.

  Whoosh! Flames burst out around the window next to Dumbo again. But he didn’t have any water to put them out! Skittering backward, his foot kicked the bar the ramp latched onto, sending it askew.

  “Guys!” Holt hissed at the clowns.

  Suddenly aware of their surroundings, the clowns burst into action, raising the ramp to the platform. But without a bar, they couldn’t secure it. The ladder slipped back to smash across the pool.

  “Wooooo!” the audience cried happily, thinking it was all part of the act.

  Holt raced to the curtained-off section. “Max, he’s trapped up there!” How were they going to get him down? They needed to clear the tent, maybe get a net set up or some kind of crane? Holt’s mind whirled.

  “Get that fire OUT!” Medici bellowed.

  The stagehand was doing his best to reattach the dial and another rushed off to find a wrench to see if they could force it. Up on the platform, the flames leapt from the window frame and licked the platform boards and support poles. Dumbo shrank back as far as he could, nearly toppling off the edge.

  “Dumbo, please! Why won’t he fly?” Joe asked. The poor guy was scared to death! His eyes were rolling back in his head. What if he fainted and fell off?

  Milly fiddled with the key around her neck, then spotted Ivan and Catherine’s box of mourning doves. “Joe, he needs his feather! He won’t fly without a feather.”

  Quick as a flash, Joe darted over and snatched a fallen feather from the bottom of the birdcage and hustled it back to Milly.

  Milly clutched the feather and burst through the curtains, heading across the ring to where the clowns were desperately trying to lean the ladder ramp against the other side of the platform. “Dumbo, we’re coming!” she shouted.

  “Milly! What are you doing?” Holt hurried after her, but she was already leaping onto the ladder and scrambling up.

  “I thought she didn’t want an act,” Medici mumbled as he hurried onstage to help.

  Dumbo trumpeted as Milly poked her head above the platform. His hairs were starting to curl from the heat.

  “Here, show them, Dumbo! Show the whole world what you can do. For Mom.”
Milly held the feather out to him.

  His eyes sparkled and his trunk curled around the feather.

  Crack!

  Boards on the platform splintered and the ladder swung wildly.

  “Aaah!” Milly dangled from the side, the floor below her spinning. Her father held up his arm as though he could catch her, then cursed his missing limb.

  “Oh, no!” The audience gasped, finally realizing this was not part of the act.

  There—the pool was below her. She could do it. She had to. Unfurling her fingers, Milly dropped.

  Splash! Water covered her head and she spluttered to the surface as a hand gripped her shirt and hauled her to the edge of the pool, pulling her to her father’s side.

  “Are you okay?” Holt asked.

  Milly choked out a yes, but her eyes were fixed on the platform above. More loud cracks reverberated through the tent as the planks began to separate. With nowhere to go, Dumbo fell.

  “Dumbo, fly! Fly!” Milly shouted.

  In midair, Dumbo inhaled the feather. With a snap, his ears spread wide and flapped once, twice.

  Zoom! Dumbo soared up. Up toward the ceiling, up past the broken platform, up over the heads of the crowd. Round the tent he went, flapping with joy.

  The teenage boys who’d been taunting him before yelled out again, calling him a freak. Dumbo steered toward the pool and sucked up some water with his trunk. On his next pass, he sprayed the boys.

  “Eek!” the teens shrieked as the rest of the crowd laughed. Both in the ring and backstage, the performers were frozen in shock. Rongo’s hands hung motionless over the instruments, so the only sounds were the cries of the audience as they ducked for cover and the flap-flap of Dumbo’s ears.

  “Woo-hoo! Yes!” Milly cheered.

  Holt stared down at his drenched daughter. “You knew he could do this?”

  Milly just smiled and high-fived Joe, who’d come out from backstage as well.

  Medici and Holt stared at one another.

  “Please start talking to your kids,” Medici said.

  Slowly, the crowd realized Dumbo wasn’t going to plow into them. They cheered him on, whooping and clapping as he zoomed through the air. Dumbo’s smile widened, and his eyes shone brightly. Veering left, he looped again and again, spiraling down, then up, then down again.