Charlie is still holding Henry Jack, despite the whack from Queenie Grace.
“Run, Lily!” Henry Jack yells. “Get out of here! Go get help!”
I don’t want to run. I don’t want to leave Queenie Grace and Henry Jack with these three men.
“Lily, run!” Henry Jack says, teeth clenched. Charlie’s arms are circling his waist. Henry Jack kicks, and spits.
So I do. I run. I have never been so scared in my entire life. It’s like fear struck my body like lightning. I’m wheezing so bad. I can hardly breathe. I can hardly run anymore.
And then I trip. My foot kicks a big rock and I fall forward, scraping my face on rocks and leaves and branches from trees. I try to stand. I must have twisted my ankle, and I sit back down.
I hear the ground pounding behind me, and I hear the sounds of sticks breaking. The men are coming; they are running. They will get me.
I try to stand again. I can’t. I just can’t. I think my right ankle is broken.
“Help,” I whisper to nobody in particular. “Please help.”
Queenie Grace crashes through the woods and comes to my side, studying the situation for a quick minute, and then she reaches down with her trunk. She gently pushes her trunk under my back, and then lifts, slowly, slowly, until I am folded snug.
“What in the world . . . ?” I say. This feels like a bad dream. I am wrapped in an elephant’s trunk, in the woods, with a broken ankle and three bad men who are probably killing my friend. And then they will get me, and it’ll all be over. That’s how my story will end, here in Florida, in the woods, far away from my dad and my home. There is no bright side to this, no happy ending.
I close my eyes. Queenie Grace is making a low purring sound in her throat. I feel as if maybe she’s saying, Relax. I’ve got this.
There’s nothing to hold on to when you’re wrapped in an elephant’s trunk. It’s like a crazy amusement park ride where you just buckle in and trust that you’ll be okay in the end.
Queenie Grace runs. I’m jostled, a lot. I don’t think she will let me fall.
“Be careful,” I say. She’s holding me like a baby, like a giant baby who’s cradled in a parent’s big, soft, safe arms.
I bounce and bump, jostled and bobbled, carried by only the trunk of an elephant who’s running for all she’s worth.
“Thank you, Queenie Grace,” I say. “Thank you. I love you.”