Small as an Elephant: Chapters 7–9

The man stopped and studied Jack. “You’re industrious this morning, aren’t you? Go down Roberts Avenue,” he said, pointing to the side street next to an inn that looked like a wedding cake.

They wouldn’t mind, would they, if he took a couple? Sure, they were worth money, but the man had just taken his, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t thought a thing of it, which probably meant he was planning to recycle these cans and bottles, not redeem them.

Then he filled the bag with bottles and cans, tallying up nearly two dollars’ worth, trying to shut up the voice in his head that whispered, You’re stealing, you know.

He hadn’t really eaten since the picnic yesterday, and, between the hunger pangs and the throbbing in his pinky, he was in no condition to go searching for his mom.

As for the trail mix, he’d be careful this time, eating only small amounts as needed. Easier said than done, he thought as he devoured his first handful, sitting on a sunny wooden bench he’d found sandwiched between the shopping carts and a bike rack, right around the corner from the entrance to the store.

But his hunger was insatiable. And eating took his mind off his finger.

He hadn’t asked anyone in the supermarket if they’d seen his mom; the store was much bigger than he’d imagined, just like the island. Asking seemed silly—futile.

Infused with new energy, Jack backtracked in that direction, avoiding Roberts Avenue, where he’d stolen the cans and bottles.

At the time, her obsession was kind of embarrassing: she’d kept yelling out little unknown facts: “Jackie, did you know that a grapefruit is a cross between an orange and a pummelo? Have you ever eaten a pummelo?”

This time he threw his backpack at a tree, but the strap caught on his pinky finger. The pain was excruciating.

He had broken a toe once—banged it at the swimming pool near where his best friend, Nina, lived. As he’d hobbled to the doctor’s office, Jack’s mom had told him elephant jokes.

Jack knew that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. That a mother wasn’t supposed to go off without telling her kid...and that her kid wasn’t supposed to be able to walk into a store and find her there coincidentally.

It was weird: Once he knew this color existed, he yearned for it.

So he walked right up to an African savanna elephant in Kenya’s Masai Mara National Reserve and put his trunk in the other elephant’s mouth.

The African elephant understood: he immediately ripped up an acacia tree and fed it to his new acquaintance.

The African elephant understood: he immediately ripped up an acacia tree and fed it to his new acquaintance.

As Jack walked up and down Main Street in Bar Harbor, he read the signs: THE ACADIA SHOP, COOL AS A MOOSE, BEN AND BILL’S CHOCOLATE EMPORIUM.

Jack hadn’t noticed his hunger before he walked into the shop, but now that he smelled the chocolate and saw all the ice cream and gelato flavors, he felt ravenous.

Jack held the wooden spoon in his mouth and simply let the ice cream melt off, trying to savor every sweet drop.

In every shop he entered, he saw something that would have caught his mother’s interest: lobster salt-and-pepper shakers, a snow globe with a giant seagull looming over a sailboat, moose pajama pants.

He’d heard of Ghana. They had lots of African-elephant conservation programs there.

“A long time ago,” Big Jack said as he opened the first-aid kit and pulled out some gauze and a roll of tape.

Jack knew he should take this man up on the offer, knew he should get something to eat and maybe figure out a way to explain his predicament, but he couldn’t.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get going. Thanks anyway,” said Jack. He couldn’t even look up at Big Jack. “And thanks for fixing my finger!” he called as he turned and ran out of the restaurant, back into the glaring sunlight.

His mom would love this place: books and tchotchkes.

He meandered through the crowd to the nonfiction section. He loved to read.

He meandered through the crowd to the nonfiction section. He loved to read.

The mama elephant would wait awhile and then go back and try to free the calf. She was charged time and time again, maimed, even—rhinos can be really fierce—but the elephant wouldn’t give up.

He didn’t stop. He pushed his way through hordes of tourists and out the door.

“Jack!” he heard. The voice was a deep bellow. It must be Big Jack from the restaurant.