The Tiger Rising Read Online Free PDF Page A

mirror.” She stared at it a minute more and then carefully laid it back on his bed.
    “Give me some clothes,” she said, “and we’ll go see the tiger.”
    He gave her a pair of pants and a T-shirt, and left the room and went outside to wait for her.
    It was still raining, but not hard. He looked at the falling Kentucky Star. He thought for a minute about one of the not-wishes he had buried deepest: a friend. He stared at the star and felt the hope and need and fear course through him in a hot neon arc. He shook his head.
    “Naw,” he said to the Kentucky Star. “Naw.”
    And then he sighed and stuck his legs out into the rain, hoping to cool them off, hoping to get some small amount of relief.

They walked together through the scrub. The rain had stopped, but the whole world was wet. The pines and the palmettos and the sad clusters of dead orange trees all dripped water.
    “This is where my mother grew up,” Sistine said, swinging her arms wide as she walked. “Right here in Lister. And she said that she always told herself that if she ever made it out of here, she wasn’t going to come back. But now she’s back because my father had an affair with his secretary, whose name is Bridgette and who can’t type, which is a really bad thing for a secretary not to be able to do. And my mother left him when she found out. He’s coming down here to get me. Soon. Next week, probably. I’m going to live with him. I’m not staying here, that’s for sure.”
    Rob felt a familiar loneliness rise up and drape its arm over his shoulder. She wasn’t staying. There was no point in wishing; the suitcase needed to stay closed. He stared at Sistine’s shiny shoes and willed his sadness to go away.
    “Ain’t you worried about messing up your shoes?” he asked her.
    “No,” she said, “I hate these shoes. I hate every piece of clothing that my mother makes me wear. Does your mother live with you?”
    Rob shook his head. “Naw,” he said.
    “Where is she?”
    Rob shrugged his shoulders.
    “My mother’s going to open up a store downtown. It’s going to be an art store. She’s going to bring some culture to the area. She could sell some of your wood sculptures.”
    “They ain’t sculptures,” Rob protested. “They’re just whittling. That’s all. And we got to be quiet because Beauchamp don’t want people walking around on his land.”
    “Is this his land?” Sistine asked.
    “Everything’s his,” said Rob. “The motel and these woods.”
    “He can’t own everything,” Sistine argued. “Besides,” she said, “I don’t care. He can catch us. He can put us in jail for trespassing. I don’t care.”
    “If we’re in jail, we won’t get to see the tiger,” said Rob.
    “Where’s your mother?” Sistine demanded suddenly. She stopped walking and stared at him.
    “Shhh,” said Rob. “You got to be quiet.” He kept walking.
    “I do not have to be quiet,” Sistine called after him. “I want to know where your mother is.”
    He turned around and looked at her. Her hands were on her hips. Her black eyes were narrowed.
    “I don’t want to see your stupid tiger!” she shouted. “I don’t care about it. You don’t know how to talk to people. I told you about my father and my mother and Bridgette, and you didn’t say anything. You won’t even tell me about your mother.” Keeping her hands on her hips, she turned around and started marching back in the direction of the Kentucky Star. “Keep your stupid secrets!” she shouted. “Keep your stupid tiger, too. I don’t care.”
    Rob watched her. Because she was wearing his jeans and his shirt, it was like looking into a fun-house mirror. It was like watching himself walk away. He shrugged and bent to scratch his legs. He told himself that he didn’t care. He told himself that she was leaving soon, anyway.
    But when he looked up and saw her getting smaller and smaller, it reminded him of his dream. He remembered Sistine riding into the woods