Tyger Lilly
Title Page
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
TYGER LILLY
by
Lisa Trusiani
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Lisa Trusiani on Smashwords
Tyger Lilly
Copyright © 2009 by Lisa Trusiani
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Preface
Lilly Wilder didn’t remember her father. He died when she was four years old. Someone told Lilly how it happened but later Lilly couldn’t recall who this was. Lilly did remember that her father was a popcorn vendor at the circus, and one day the star tiger ate him.
Not all tigers like popcorn but this one did. Having discovered its tiger had a fondness for popcorn, the circus rehearsed a new act. The tiger was to act like a poodle, sitting on hind legs begging for a treat. But when the popcorn treat arrived, the moronic beast opened its massive maw and swallowed one dozen bags of popcorn, the tray that carried the popcorn, and the popcorn vendor carrying the tray. All that remained was her father’s right shoe.
Lilly imagined her father wore red-striped pants and looked like a giant box of popcorn, which was why the confused tiger gobbled him up. It was a disaster for the circus, for Lilly, and of course, for Lilly’s father most of all.
At the age of eleven, Lilly believed this story to be entirely true. It wasn’t except for the most important fact – a tiger did eat Lilly’s father.
Chapter 1
Lilly waited for a speeding flower truck to pass then hurried across the street toward home. “Will she talk to me?” asked Lilly. No one answered because Lilly was alone. She often talked to herself right out loud when no one was near. Hearing her own voice made Lilly feel better, almost like a friend was close by. But she was careful not to let kids at school hear her talking to herself. It would be one more reason for them to tease and there were already plenty. Her home was one of the most obvious.
Lilly lived in a tumbledown Victorian-style house. A stained glass window gaped holes like a prizefighter’s knocked out teeth. A turret sagged like a pointy hat on a drunken witch. And the porch sloped like the deck of a ship that had weathered many too many storms. It would be difficult to pinpoint the color of Lilly’s house except to say it was splotchy. Peeling paint revealed so many colors, shades of yellow, green, gray and one hundred years before that pink. Despite these imperfections, the old house reminded Lilly of a queen dethroned through no fault of her own. Its spooky appearance put the rest of the neighborhood in mind of a haunted house.
Walking along the side of her house, Lilly stopped to open the back gate and scan the yard for a sign of her mother. Lilly spotted her mother’s cloud only three feet off the ground. When Lilly’s father died, her mother was flooded with silence. A light gray cloud soon appeared over her head growing denser and darker until it was the color of elephant hide. It floated faithfully over her day after day. At night while she slept, the cloud grew lighter and became a shadowy vapor floating inches above her body from her head to her toes. Mrs. Wilder and her cloud were inseparable.
“I’m home,” said Lilly. She saw her mother sitting on the ground next to an enormous crocodile stretching the length of two park benches. The crocodile’s face was forever hidden under its tail. Lilly’s mother built the green crocodile years ago and named him McMuggster. Mrs. Wilder made animal sculptures called topiaries, some as high or as long as twenty feet.
Lilly found the process fascinating to watch even if she was jealous of the time her mother spent with them. To start, Mrs. Wilder built steel frames shaped like animals. They looked to Lilly like the skeletons of prehistoric beasts one might see in a natural history museum. Not that Lilly had been to a museum but she’d seen videos about dinosaurs at school. Once a frame was built, Mrs. Wilder planted climbing ivy and trained it to grow up along the steel frame. When the frame was completely covered by ivy, it looked like a gigantic, green animal living in her backyard. That’s where Mrs. Wilder made them, and that’s where she took care of them. They were her silent pets.
When Mrs. Wilder worked in her backyard, neighbors saw her cloud even when they didn’t see her. If she had walked to town, people would have seen her cloud from blocks away. But after Lilly’s father left and never returned home, Lilly’s mother never left home again.
One more thing Lilly’s mother stopped doing was taking care of Lilly. Fortunately The Church Lady, a kind, elderly neighbor, fed Lilly and her mother every day for years. When The Church Lady departed, Lilly’s mother still didn’t take care of Lilly, so Lilly took care of herself and her mother.
“I’m home from school, Mother.” Lilly kneeled in front of her mother and picked up a plate from the ground. Before school, Lilly had given her mother a peanut butter sandwich on this plate, which was now empty. I’m glad she ate something, thought Lilly. I bet she’s been here all day talking to McMuggster.
Lilly touched her mother’s icy hand. The calendar at school said it was spring, but Lilly thought it felt more like winter warmed over. “Don’t forget to put your hands in your pocket, mother.” The flowers didn’t know how to act either, or so it seemed to Lilly. Some had bloomed already in a burst of sunny days then died from a chill that refused to leave.
Lilly’s mother didn’t answer. At least she’s wearing her coat, thought Lilly. I guess she’ll be okay. Lilly sometimes needed to remind her mother about obvious things, like warming her hands, coming in from outdoors and eating her dinner.
“Mother,”
Lilly spoke slightly above a whisper. “I don’t know if you’ll understand this but we’re studying genes in school. We learned if one parent has blue eyes and the other parent has brown eyes, then their babies will probably have brown eyes. I started wondering. I have blue eyes and you have blue eyes but I don’t know what color eyes my father had. Can you tell me?”
Lilly’s mother stopped whispering to the ivy crocodile but didn’t look up. “Your father,” said Mrs. Wilder softly.
Lilly held her breath. Her mother, who rarely uttered a word to Lilly, had never spoken about her father. “Your father said there is a white tiger with blue eyes.”
It wasn’t the answer Lilly hoped for but her mother had spoken. “He did?” said Lilly hoping to hear more.
“It’s hard to see your eyes,” said Lilly’s mother still looking away.
“You can see them if you look at me, Mother.” Lilly spoke patiently as though her mother were a young child. Her voice rose excitedly as she bent over to make it easier for her mother to see.
“I know how I could see your eyes better,” said Lilly’s mother.
“Yes?” said Lilly smiling.
“Peek out from under that tail, McMuggster.”
Lilly’s smile vanished. She blinked back tears. My mother wouldn’t notice if I disappeared, thought Lilly.
Lilly carried the plate away. As she headed toward her bedroom window Lilly heard noises, animal noises. She could count on her pets to be happy to see her – all forty-nine of them. Lilly jumped up, swung her legs over the windowsill and slid into her bedroom. Climbing in through the windows seemed a natural solution to Lilly since the front and back doors had been locked and the keys missing for as long as she could remember. Her mother preferred the kitchen window where Lilly kept a chair on the inside and a step stool on the outside to make climbing up and down easier.
“Olive!” Lilly shouted for her parrot as soon as her feet touched the ground. Olive was Lilly’s best friend and the only animal Lilly remembered having always had.
“Olive!” shouted Lilly again. Razz Ma Tazz, a French rooster, answered indignantly with “URT-URT-AROOO!” Razz couldn’t imagine why Lilly called for Olive so often, the old feather duster!
Lilly found her animals by tacking up a PETS WANTED sign in the Post Office. It was next to the sheriff’s MOST WANTED poster of criminals. People called Lilly about all kinds of pets – crawfish, cockatoos, geckos and goldfish. One hysterical woman asked if Lilly would adopt her ravenous pot-bellied pig. Lilly said she couldn’t. It would be impossible to find enough food to keep up with that appetite.
Once Sheriff McDuffie told Lilly, “You’re doing better in the pet department than I am in the criminal department, young lady. What’s your secret?” Lilly couldn’t think of any secret. It seemed obvious that so many animals were available because families often tried a pet on for size and decided it didn’t fit. Seeing Lilly’s sign gave them a way out. Instead of feeling guilty about giving up a member of the family, they felt good about donating their pet to the ragamuffin kid in the haunted house.
Chapter 2
“Olive, where are you?” hollered Lilly. Razz Ma Tazz trotted over and crowed. Lilly put her mother’s plate with the other dirty dishes on top of her dresser. It was a real balancing act. Then she flung her backpack onto her bed and flung herself on it, too.
The jumbled sounds of Lilly’s sweet voice and the rooster’s harsh bellow incited a wild ruckus. All the other animals quacked, cackled and thumped except for the fish. Those underwater barnstormers swam excited loop-de-loops.
The animals lived with Lilly in her bedroom, originally a dining room. It was small for a large group of animals but Lilly liked their close quarters. It was cozy. Olive flew in from outside. Lilly kept the window open even in chilly weather.
“Look Olive I brought you a present,” said Lilly, settling on the bed. She held open a book for the old parrot to see. “It wasn’t Library Day, but Miss Brightman let me take it out. It’s a book about parrots.” Olive perched on the bed rail and stared intently as if reading.
Refusing to be left out, Razz Ma Tazz spread his wings and took a flying leap into Lilly’s lap. “Not now, Razz,” said Lilly patiently. Razz squatted stubbornly on the book and nuzzled Lilly under her chin. She patted his head and spoke soothingly. “I’ll play with you later.” Lilly carried Razz Ma Tazz to the window and shooed him out. She watched Lady the Duck (who thought she was a chicken) follow him.
“Olive,” said Lilly returning to the book, “this says parrots eat mostly fruit and seeds with a few bugs for protein. But you eat mostly bugs and any old crumb. Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you: Have you been eating my toothpaste, Olive?”
Lilly lifted a white guinea pig named Janie from a wire cage on the floor. “I’ve been blaming poor Janie, you know.” Janie was “poor Janie” because she seemed a little muddled, even for a guinea pig. Olive, who didn’t appreciate being accused of poaching toothpaste, let out a high-pitched shriek.
The sound sent Janie scrambling. “Ow! You’re digging my arm!” yelped Lilly as Janie tried to claw her way to safety. Lilly plopped Janie into her cage. Olive shuffled and scuffled across the iron bed railing, shrieking indignantly.
“Olive, please calm down,” said Lilly, rubbing her scratches. Although Lilly spoke to the parrot as though Olive could understand, Lilly stopped believing Olive did years ago. Lilly spoke to Olive because she always had. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said Lilly. “You know I didn’t.” At that Olive quieted.
Lilly named Olive for her color. Except for orange feathers on her neck, breast and under her wings, Olive was a green parrot. The shade of green, however, was not like an olive. It was like a lime. But Lilly named her Olive because “Who ever heard of a parrot named Lime?”
Lilly reached into her pants pocket. “I have something else for you, Olive. I saw a first grader leave it in the lunchroom, and I took it for you. Really, I planned to give it to you all along.” Lilly wondered if her bribe would work. She didn’t want Olive feeling insulted and holding a grudge. If a parrot can sniff, Olive sniffed as she watched Lilly pull out what appeared to be a crumpled napkin. Unfolded, it revealed a mound of yellow crumbs. “Corn muffin, one of your favorites,” tempted Lilly.
As Olive ate Lilly fished through her pocket, then pulled everything out. It was a surprisingly large pile for a small pocket and contained a pig-shaped eraser, two rubber bands, and a collection of business cards because they were free for the taking and fun to carry around.
“I wanted to show you the penny I found, Olive. It was differ– Oh, dang.” Lilly interrupted herself having discovered, not the elusive penny, but a scrap of paper with scribbled handwriting. Lilly stared at it groaning. “MONKEY DUNG! It’s a note from my mother, Olive. She left it for me days ago and I forgot all about it.” Lilly read it again. “I guess I have to go out. She wants me to buy monkey dung.” Olive squawked. “I don’t know why. I think she’s experimenting with fertilizers,” answered Lilly with a shrug. “The Garden Center was closed for awhile. It’s open now with new people in charge.”
Lilly headed for the nearest exit, her bedroom window. “Bye!” she yelled as she scrambled out and hopped the short distance to the ground. Lilly hurried to the front yard and toward the center of town.
On her way to the Garden Center, Lilly saw one of her classmates, Isadora Snodgrass, with her mother. The two were overloaded with shopping bags from the town’s only clothing store, expensive Trout Boutique. Isadora cast a sullen glance at Lilly but saved her whining for her mother. “M-m-o-m.”
“I won’t buy you short pants, Isadora.”
“They’re capris, Mom.”
Mrs. Snodgrass watched Lilly walk past then whispered loudly, “Short pants, pedal pushers, capris… whatever you want to call them, Isadora, see how atrocious they look.”
Lilly was sorry to hear this. Her pants were inches above her ankles so she pretended they were capris instead of hand-me
-downs two sizes too small. Lilly had hoped she looked stylish in them but now she knew she looked atrocious.
Lilly watched Isadora and her mother walk away. Lilly envied Isadora, not because there was anything likeable about the girl. There wasn’t. Isadora was meaner than a stepped-on snake. Isadora’s mother, a real estate agent with her own office in town, wasn’t nice either. But they had each other and Lilly envied Isadora for that reason alone. My mother would rather talk to her plants instead of me, thought Lilly.
“I wish I had a real family with someone to talk to,” murmured Lilly, pushing open the door to the Garden Center. Lilly looked around. While the old store was filled with empty shelves, the new store’s shelves overflowed with gardening gadgets of all kinds. There were gloves, hand tools, kneepads, planters, watering cans, ‘how to’ books and ‘how not to’ books all beautifully displayed. Flowering plants, herbs, ferns, small trees, plus bags of potting soil, fertilizer and grass seed crowded the floor. A canopy of sheer green cloth floated above Lilly’s head, hiding the ceiling but letting light filter through.
Tyger Lilly Page 1
