Kate DiCamillo: The Tiger Rising

Willie May uncurled her fist and showed Sistine the bird.

“Oh,” said Sistine. And Rob realized then why he liked Sistine so much. He liked her because when she saw something beautiful, the sound of her voice changed. All the words she uttered had an oof sound to them, as if she was getting punched in the stomach. The sound was in her voice when she talked about the Sistine Chapel and when she looked at the things he carved in wood. It was there when she said the poem about the tiger burning bright, and it was there when she talked about Willie May being a prophetess. Her words sounded the way all those things made him feel, as if the world, the real world, had been punched through, so that he could see something wonderful and dazzling on the other side of it.

“Did Rob make it?” Sistine asked Willie May.

“He did,” said Willie May.

“It looks alive. Is it like your bird that you let go?”

“Just about exactly,” said Willie May.

“I . . . ,” said Sistine. She looked at Willie May. Then she turned and looked at Rob. “We,” she said. “We need to ask you something.”

“Ask on,” said Willie May.

“If you knew about something that was locked up in a cage, something big and beautiful that was locked away unfairly, for no good reason, and you had the keys to the cage, would you let it go?”

Willie May sat down on the bed. A cloud of dust rose up around her. “Lord God,” she said. “What you two children got in a cage?”

“It’s a tiger,” Rob said. He felt like he had to be the one who said it. He was the one who found the tiger. He was the one who had the keys to the cage.

“A what?” said Willie May.

“A tiger,” said Sistine.

“Do Jesus!” exclaimed Willie May.

“It’s true,” said Sistine.

Willie May shook her head. She looked up at the ceiling. She let out her breath in a loud slow hiss of disapproval. “All right,” she said. “Why don’t you all show me where you got this tiger locked up in a cage?”

The three of them walked through the woods in silence. Sistine and Rob chewed Eight Ball gum, and Willie May smoked a cigarette, and nobody said a word.

“Lord God,” said Willie May when they came up to the cage. She stared at the pacing animal. “Ain’t no reason to doubt the fierceness of God when He make something like that,” she said. “Who was the fool that caged this tiger up?”

“He belongs to Beauchamp,” Rob told her.

“Beauchamp,” said Willie May with disgust. She shook her head. “One person in the world that don’t need to be owning no tiger, and that’s Beauchamp.”

“See?” said Sistine. “It’s not right, is it? Just like you told Rob about your bird and how you had to let it go.”

“A bird,” said Willie May, “that’s one thing. Tiger belonging to Beauchamp is another.”

“Tell Rob that he should unlock the cage and let him go,” Sistine demanded.

“I ain’t,” said Willie May. “You got to ask yourself what’s going to happen to this tiger after you let him go. How’s he going to live?”

Rob was flooded with sad relief. Willie May wasn’t going to make him do it. He wasn’t going to lose the tiger.

“Panthers live in these woods,” argued Sistine. “They survive.”

“Used to,” said Willie May. “Don’t no more.”

Sistine put her hands on her hips. “You’re not saying what you believe,” she accused. “You’re not talking like a prophetess.”

“That’s ’cause I ain’t no prophetess,” said Willie May. “All I am is somebody speaking the truth. And the truth is: there ain’t nothing you can do for this tiger except to let it be.”

“It’s not right,” said Sistine.

“Right ain’t got nothing to do with it,” muttered Willie May. “Sometimes right don’t count.”

“I can’t wait until my father comes to get me,” said Sistine. “He knows what’s right. He’ll set this tiger free.”

Rob looked at Sistine. “Your daddy ain’t coming for you,” he said softly, shaking his head, amazed at what he suddenly knew to be the truth.

“My father is coming to get me,” Sistine said through tight lips.

“Naw,” said Rob sadly. “He ain’t. He’s a liar. Like your mama said.”

“You’re the liar,” said Sistine in a dark cold voice. Her face was so white that it seemed to glow before him. “And I hate you,” she said to him. “Everybody at school hates you, too. Even the teachers. You are a sissy. I hope I never ever see you again.”

She turned and walked away, and Rob stood and considered her words. He felt them on his skin like shards of broken glass. He was afraid to move. He was afraid of how deep they might go inside him.

“She don’t mean it,” said Willie May. “She don’t mean none of what she say right now.”

Rob shrugged. He bent and scratched his legs as hard as he could. He scratched and scratched, digging his nails in deep, trying to get to the bottom of the itch that was always there.

“Stop it,” Willie May told him.

Rob looked up at her.

“Let me tell you something,” she said. “I would love to see this tiger rise on up out of this cage. Yes, uh-huh. I would like to see him rise on up and attack Beauchamp; serve him right for keeping a wild animal locked up, putting you in the middle of this, giving you the keys to this cage. Come on.” She grabbed hold of Rob’s hand. “Let’s get on up out of here.”

As they walked back to the Kentucky Star, Rob thought about what Willie May had said about the tiger rising on up. It reminded him of what she had said about his sadness needing to rise up. And when he thought about the two things together, the tiger and his sadness, the truth circled over and above him and then came and landed lightly on his shoulder. He knew what he had to do.

He left Willie May at the motel and went down the highway.

“Sistine!” he shouted as he ran. “Sistine!” he screamed.

And miraculously, he saw her — her orange dress with the pink polka dots — glowing on the horizon. Sistine Bailey.

“Hey,” he shouted. “Sistine. I got something to tell you.”

“I’m not talking to you,” she shouted back. But she stopped. She turned around. She put her hands on her hips.

He ran faster.

“I come to tell you about the tiger,” he said when he caught up with her.

“What about him?”

“I’m fixing to let him go,” said Rob.

Sistine squinted her eyes at him. “You won’t do it,” she said.

“Yes, I will,” he told her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys and held them in front of her, proudly, as if he had just conjured them out of thin air, as if they had never existed before. “I’m going to do it,” he said. “I’m going to do it for you.”

“Whoooooeeee!!!!!” somebody screamed, and Rob turned and saw Beauchamp come speeding right toward them in his red jeep.

“Oh no,” whispered Rob.

“Is it him?” Sistine whispered.

Rob nodded.

Beauchamp pulled over to the side of the road, spraying mud and water everywhere.

“You out getting your exercise?” he hollered.

Rob shrugged.

“Speak up,” roared Beauchamp. He got out of the jeep and came toward them. Rob quickly pocketed the keys. His heart thumped once, loudly, as if it was cautioning him to keep quiet, and then it went back to beating normally.

“Well, looky here,” said Beauchamp when he saw Sistine. “You out chasing girls. Is that it? Man after my own heart. This your girlfriend?” Beauchamp pounded Rob on the back.

“No, sir,” said Rob. He looked at Sistine. She was staring so hard at Beauchamp that Rob was afraid the man might burst into flames.