Kate DiCamillo - The Tiger Rising

Also by Kate DiCamillo:

Because of Winn-Dixie
The Magicians Elephant
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
The Tale of Despereaux

Mercy Watson to the Rescue
Mercy Watson Goes for a Ride
Mercy Watson Fights Crime
Mercy Watson: Princess in Disguise
Mercy Watson Thinks Like a Pig
Mercy Watson:
Something Wonky This Way Comes

Great Joy

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2001 by Kate DiCamillo
Cover illustration copyright 2001 by Chris Sheban

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

First electronic edition 2009

The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
DiCamillo, Kate.
The tiger rising / Kate DiCamillo. 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Rob, who passes the time in his rural Florida community by wood carving, is drawn by his spunky but angry friend Sistine into a plan to free a caged tiger.
ISBN 978-0-7636-0911-5 (hardcover)
[1. Tigers Fiction. 2. Animals Treatment Fiction. 3. Wood carving Fiction. 4. Friendship Fiction. 5. Florida Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D54156 Ti 2001
[Fic] dc21 99-088635

ISBN 978-0-7636-1898-8 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7636-4944-9 (electronic)

Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

visit us at www.candlewick.com

For my brother

I am grateful to Matt Pogatshnik
for giving me the music,
Bill Mockler for always reading,
the McKnight Foundation
for bestowing peace of mind,
Jane Resh Thomas for shining a
light on the path, Tracey Bailey
and Lisa Beck for being my
death of the hired man friends,
my mother for telling me not
to give up, and to Kara LaReau
for believing that I could...
and that I can. And that I will.

That morning, after he discovered the tiger, Rob went and stood under the Kentucky Star Motel sign and waited for the school bus just like it was any other day. The Kentucky Star sign was composed of a yellow neon star that rose and fell over a piece of blue neon in the shape of the state of Kentucky. Rob liked the sign; he harbored a dim but abiding notion that it would bring him good luck.

Finding the tiger had been luck, he knew that. He had been out in the woods behind the Kentucky Star Motel, way out in the woods, not really looking for anything, just wandering, hoping that maybe he would get lost or get eaten by a bear and not have to go to school ever again. Thats when he saw the old Beauchamp gas station building, all boarded up and tumbling down; next to it, there was a cage, and inside the cage, unbelievably, there was a tiger a real-life, very large tiger pacing back and forth. He was orange and gold and so bright, it was like staring at the sun itself, angry and trapped in a cage.

It was early morning and it looked like it might rain; it had been raining every day for almost two weeks. The sky was gray and the air was thick and still. Fog was hugging the ground. To Rob, it seemed as if the tiger was some magic trick, rising out of the mist. He was so astounded at his discovery, so amazed, that he stood and stared. But only for a minute; he was afraid to look at the tiger for too long, afraid that the tiger would disappear. He stared, and then he turned and ran back into the woods, toward the Kentucky Star. And the whole way home, while his brain doubted what he had seen, his heart beat out the truth to him. Ti-ger. Ti-ger. Ti-ger.

That was what Rob thought about as he stood beneath the Kentucky Star sign and waited for the bus. The tiger. He did not think about the rash on his legs, the itchy red blisters that snaked their way into his shoes. His father said that it would be less likely to itch if he didnt think about it.

And he did not think about his mother. He hadnt thought about her since the morning of the funeral, the morning he couldnt stop crying the great heaving sobs that made his chest and stomach hurt. His father, watching him, standing beside him, had started to cry, too.

They were both dressed up in suits that day; his fathers suit was too small. And when he slapped Rob to make him stop crying, he ripped a hole underneath the arm of his jacket.

There aint no point in crying, his father had said afterward. Crying aint going to bring her back.

It had been six months since that day, six months since he and his father had moved from Jacksonville to Lister, and Rob had not cried since, not once.

The final thing he did not think about that morning was getting onto the bus. He specifically did not think about Norton and Billy Threemonger waiting for him like chained and starved guard dogs, eager to attack.

Rob had a way of not-thinking about things. He imagined himself as a suitcase that was too full, like the one that he had packed when they left Jacksonville after the funeral. He made all his feelings go inside the suitcase; he stuffed them in tight and then sat on the suitcase and locked it shut. That was the way he not-thought about things. Sometimes it was hard to keep the suitcase shut. But now he had something to put on top of it. The tiger.

So as he waited for the bus under the Kentucky Star sign, and as the first drops of rain fell from the sullen sky, Rob imagined the tiger on top of his suitcase, blinking his golden eyes, sitting proud and strong, unaffected by all the not-thoughts inside straining to come out.

Looky here, said Norton Threemonger as soon as Rob stepped onto the school bus. Its the Kentucky Star. Hows it feel to be a star? Norton stood in the center of the aisle, blocking Robs path.

Rob shrugged.

Oh, he dont know. Norton called to his brother. Hey, Billy, he dont know what its like to be a star.

Rob slipped past Norton. He walked all the way to the back of the bus and sat down in the last seat.

Hey, said Billy Threemonger, you know what? This aint Kentucky. This is Florida.

He followed Rob and sat down right next to him. He pushed his face so close that Rob could smell his breath. It was bad breath. It smelled metallic and rotten. You aint a Kentucky star, Billy said, his eyes glowing under the brim of his John Deere cap. And you sure aint a star here in Florida. You aint a star nowhere.

Okay, said Rob.

Billy shoved him hard. And then Norton came swaggering back and leaned over Billy and grabbed hold of Robs hair with one hand, and with the other hand, ground his knuckles into Robs scalp.

Rob sat there and took it. If he fought back, it lasted longer. If he didnt fight back, sometimes they got bored and left him alone. They were the only three kids on the bus until it got into town, and Mr. Nelson, the driver, pretended like he didnt know what was going on. He drove staring straight ahead, whistling songs that didnt have any melody. Rob was on his own, and he knew it.

Hes got the creeping crud all over him, said Billy. He pointed at Robs legs. Look, he said to Norton. Aint it gross?