Small as an Elephant Read Online Free

you like me to walk back with you?”
    “No — thanks, though. I think I’m just going to stand here and empty the well,” he said. “Or the reservoir, or whatever.”
    “OK, then,” she said. “Good night.”
    An ache in his chest, an ache he didn’t even know he had, started to lift. Maybe a good-night from a mother — from anyone’s mother — was all he needed.
    The next morning, Jack woke to the wheezy cooing of a mourning dove and felt happy — for about two seconds. Then he remembered. He listened, hoping to hear his mother moving around the site, whistling “Sunny Days” from
Sesame Street,
like she always did, but he knew better. She wouldn’t have waited for Jack to wake on his own. She’d have circled the tent, pretending to be a coyote or something. Then she’d have pounced on him, taking the whole tent down with her. She’d crawl into the collapsed tent and hug him, finally telling him where she’d been. He would push her away, but it wouldn’t work. “Don’t be mad at me, Jack,” she’d say. “I could never leave you.”
    “Like an elephant,” he whispered now. Even when in danger, a mother elephant would not leave her calf.
    He looked at his phone to check the time and noticed that not only did he still not have reception, but the battery was about to die. The charger was in the car — the car his mother had taken. He turned his phone off.
    The tent smelled sour. No doubt he should take a shower, but he probably didn’t have enough coins to use the showers in the camping-supplies store. And anyway, he was going swimming with Aiden’s family. He grabbed what was left of the salami and cheese and sat out on the picnic table to have breakfast.
    The early-morning air was cool. A mother in her pajamas, clutching a towel and a cosmetics kit, was leading two young girls to the bathroom.
    “Do you want eggs?” he heard the man in the next site ask his family.
    “Yes, please!” his mother would have called back, and before you knew it, she’d be over there helping with the cooking.
    Jack noticed a ranger, a man this time, with a green jacket over his gray uniform, walking purposefully around the loop, and his breakfast caught in his throat. What should he do? Duck back into his tent? The bathroom?
    Too late. The ranger skipped his neighbors and came directly into his site.
    “Hey, there,” said the ranger. “Is your mom here?”
    Jack shook his head. “She’s just gone to the store — to pick up stuff.” He hoped the ranger hadn’t noticed that the car (and his mother) had been gone since yesterday morning.
    The ranger nodded. Jack couldn’t tell if he believed him or not.
    “Well,” he said, “I just want to confirm that you’re here until tomorrow.”
    “Yup,” said Jack. Wherever his mom had gone, she’d have to come back by tomorrow. Right?
    “Can we stay longer if we want?” he blurted, hoping he sounded enthusiastic and not worried.
    “Sure. The park really clears out after Labor Day. They’ll be no shortage of spaces then. Just remember, you need to prepay.”
    “I’ll tell my mother,” he said, hoping it was the end of the conversation.
    “OK, then,” said the ranger, in no hurry to go. “My name’s Stan, if you need anything.”
    Jack wondered if Stan was thinking the obvious: Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, was the first day of school. At least it was for Jack. Why would they want to camp longer?
    But the ranger glanced at his clipboard and went on. Jack ate the last bite of salami and then wished he hadn’t. This was the only food he had, and he’d spent all his money. He had to start being smarter. Start thinking about the possibility —
    He stopped that thought in its tracks.
Don’t be ridiculous,
he told himself.
Mom will be back today. I know she will.
Just the same, he wrapped the remaining cheese.
    A stick cracked behind him. Jack turned hopefully.
    Not Mom. Aiden — and a cold splash of disappointment.
    “Ready to go?”
    Jack popped