The One and Only Ivan Read Online Free PDF

have let her down.
    â€œAre there more of you?”
    â€œNot,” I say, “at the moment.”
    Ruby picks up a piece of hay and considers it. “Do you have a mom and a dad?”
    â€œWell … I used to.”
    â€œEveryone has parents,” Bob explains. “It’s unavoidable.”
    â€œBefore the circus, I used to live with my mom and my aunts and my sisters and my cousins,” Ruby says. She drops the hay, picks it up, twirls it. “They’re dead.”
    I don’t know what to say. I am not really enjoying this conversation, but I can see that Ruby isn’t done talking. To be polite, I say, “I’m sorry to hear that, Ruby.”
    â€œHumans killed them,” she says.
    â€œWho else?” Bob asks, and we all fall silent.

stella and ruby
    All morning, Stella strokes Ruby, pats her, smells her. They flap their ears. They rumble and roar. They sway as if they’re dancing. Ruby clings to Stella’s tail. She slips under Stella’s belly.
    Sometimes they just lean into each other, their trunks twirled together like jungle vines.
    Stella looks so happy. It’s more fun to watch than any nature show I’ve ever seen on TV.

home of the one and only ivan
    George and Mack are out by the highway. I can see them through one of my windows. They are next to each other on tall wooden ladders, leaning against the billboard that tells the cars to stop and visit the One and Only Ivan, Mighty Silverback.
    George has a bucket and a long-handled broom. Mack has pieces of paper. He slaps one against the billboard. George dips the broom into the bucket. He wets the paper with the liquid from the bucket, and somehow the paper stays in place.
    They put up many pieces before they are done.
    When they climb down from the ladders, I see that they’ve added a picture of a little elephant to the billboard. The elephant has a lopsided smile. She is wearing a red hat, and her tail curls like a pig’s. She doesn’t look like Ruby. She doesn’t even look like an elephant.
    I’ve only known Ruby one day, and I could have drawn her better.

art lesson
    Ruby asks a lot of questions. She says, “Ivan, why is your tummy so big?” and “Have you ever seen a green giraffe?” and “Can you get me one of those pink clouds that the humans are eating?”
    When Ruby asks, “What is that on your wall?” I explain that it’s a jungle. She says the flowers have no scent and the waterfall has no water and the trees have no roots.
    â€œI am aware of that,” I say. “It’s art. A picture made with paint.”
    â€œDo you know how to make art?” Ruby asks.
    â€œYes, I do,” I say, and I puff up my chest, just a little. “I’ve always been an artist. I love drawing.”
    â€œWhy do you love it?” Ruby asks.
    I pause. I’ve never talked to anyone about this before. “When I’m drawing a picture, I feel … quiet inside.”
    Ruby frowns. “Quiet is boring.”
    â€œNot always.”
    Ruby scratches the back of her neck with her trunk. “What do you draw, anyway?”
    â€œBananas, mostly. Things in my domain. My drawings sell at the gift store for twenty-five dollars apiece, with a frame.”
    â€œWhat’s a frame?” Ruby asks. “What’s a dollar? What’s a gift store?”
    I close my eyes. “I’m a little sleepy, Ruby.”
    â€œHave you ever driven a truck?” Ruby asks.
    I don’t answer.
    â€œIvan?” Ruby asks. “Can Bob fly?”
    A memory flashes past, surprising me. I think of my father, snoring peacefully under the sun while I try every trick I know to wake him.
    Perhaps, I realize, he wasn’t really such a sound sleeper after all.

treat
    â€œHow’s that foot, old girl?” George asks Stella.
    Stella pokes her trunk between the bars. She inspects George’s right shirt pocket for the treat he