Christopher Robin_The Novelization Page 12

  “Yes,” Madeline answered, as though she were responding to a test question. “I shall play better and harder than any child has ever played.”

  “It can also be fun?” Evelyn said.

  Madeline shrugged. “Agreed. It shall also be fun.”

  Evelyn sighed. There was so much of Christopher in Madeline. When she had been a baby, Evelyn thought that was sweet and would stare at her daughter’s face for hours, laughing at the similar expressions that would flit across both her husband’s and her daughter’s faces. But now, she realized, it was no longer a good thing. If Evelyn didn’t do something, her daughter was going to grow up too fast. “Go out and play,” she said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. “We’ll have tea later.”

  Pleased to have directions to follow, Madeline turned and marched outside. Watching her go, Evelyn silently cursed Christopher. You should be here to fix this, she thought. You should be here to play with your daughter. But instead, he had chosen work—again.

  Pooh felt funny. He couldn’t quite put a paw on it, but ever since Christopher had left the Hundred-Acre Wood, Pooh had felt strange. Walking back to Piglet’s house, he thought maybe he was just hungry. After all, he hadn’t had honey in quite some time, and a bear needed honey to feel like himself.

  Reaching into Piglet’s cupboards, he felt around for a lone jar of the sweet nectar. But his search came up empty. Turning to his friend, Pooh let out a very un-Pooh-like sigh. “I don’t feel very much like Pooh today.”

  Piglet walked over and gently took Pooh’s paw in his. “There, there,” he said softly. “I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.”

  Pooh nodded. Tea and honey did sound nice. Maybe if he had enough of both, the funny feeling in his stomach would go away. He wished, though, that Christopher could have stayed and had some tea and honey with him. It had been nice to have his friend back. Pooh hadn’t realized how strange the Hundred-Acre Wood had been without him around. But now that he was gone, the absence was pronounced. Already, fog had begun to roll back in through the trees and the sun seemed less bright.

  Hearing a commotion outside, Pooh turned just in time to see Tigger bounce into Piglet’s house, holding a large pot of honey. He had a huge smile on his face and was bounding around even more than usual. Apparently, the funny feeling Pooh had was not felt by all. “Hello, friends!” Tigger said.

  “Just in time!” Pooh said, grabbing the pot and lifting it to his face. But instead of getting a mouthful of honey, he got bonked in the nose by something. Pulling his head back, he saw that it was the big brown folder Christopher Robin had been carrying around with him. “Tigger! Why did you take these out of the case of Important Things?” Pooh asked.

  Tigger shrugged. “Just taking up space!” he answered. “Needed to get rid of this flippity-flap paper. Make room for the real Important Stuff.”

  “What will happen to Christopher Robin without them?” Piglet asked. His voice squeaked nervously and he began to search for haycorns.

  Pooh put a paw to his Thinking Spot. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t remember exactly what Christopher had said—probably due to the lack of honey clouding his thoughts—but he knew that Christopher needed those papers. He tapped his Thinking Spot harder and harder. Think, think, think, he said to himself. What was going to happen to Christopher Robin? And then he let out a shout. He remembered! “Christopher said that a Woozle was going to eat him for breakfast!”

  The others gasped.

  Grabbing the brown folder, Pooh walked toward the door. He had to get this stuff back to Christopher before he got eaten! Turning to the others, he signaled for them to follow. They needed to find Christopher—before it was too late!

  Madeline had decided she was going to play tennis. In this case, she had replaced a tennis ball with the red balloon she had found tied to her bike. Tying it to the net on the tennis court behind the house, she whacked at the balloon with an old wooden racket she had found. Not good at doing anything merely halfway, she was pretending to not just play tennis, but rather play tennis at Wimbledon.

  Lifting her arm up, she took on the role of announcer: “Madeline Robin, serving for the Wimbledon title,” she called to her imaginary crowd. She brought down her arm, hitting the balloon down onto the court. “And it’s an ace! She’s won! The crowd goes wild!”

  To her surprise, real cheering erupted from a bush along the court’s edge. She cocked her head to listen. Then, tiptoeing closer, she tried to see inside the bush. But it was overgrown and she couldn’t see anything through the thick greenery. “Hello?” she called out. No one answered. Growing more curious, Madeline picked up a ball and threw it into the bush.

  A moment later, the ball came flying back.

  “Who’s in there?!” asked Madeline in a high-pitched voice. She knew she should never have agreed to go play. It was safer in the house. No invisible things threw balls at her or cheered when she pretended to hit a winning shot playing tennis.

  Suddenly, the leaves on the bush began to rustle. Then Madeline heard voices. It sounded a lot like, “Stop pushing,” and “Ouch.” Then, before she could turn and run to find her mother, three creatures fell out of the bush and onto the court. Madeline shook her head, unsure if she were seeing things. But even after she blinked and pinched herself several times, the creatures—a small pig, a striped tiger of sorts, and a bear—were still standing there. They looked very much like she would imagine stuffed animals would look if they were real—which they couldn’t be….

  “Hello,” said the piglet.

  “You must be Madeline,” the bear said happily.

  In turn, Madeline did the only thing she thought reasonable in such a situation: she screamed. Stumbling backward, Madeline tripped over something. Turning, she saw that the something she had tripped over was a small blue donkey.

  “Sorry about that,” the donkey said.

  Once more, Madeline screamed. Only this time, the donkey startled. Then he began to run around in a circle. He would have kept going had he not hit the net and fallen in a heap on the court.

  Holding up his paws, the bear came closer. “We’re sorry,” he said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your game.”

  Madeline took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. But she found it wasn’t working. Because this didn’t make sense. And she liked things that made sense. “You’re…you’re talking,” she finally said.

  “Me?” the bear asked, putting a paw to his chest. Then he shook his head. “No. I’m not talking. Well, I am now, I guess.”

  Madeline stared at the talking bear, her mind racing. While the situation was strange, there was something oddly familiar about the bear. It was like she had seen him somewhere before. She racked her brain. She didn’t have any stuffed bears at home, so it couldn’t be that. And she didn’t have many friends—and the friends she did have mostly had dolls. But then, suddenly, she realized exactly why the bear looked familiar. “Wait!” she cried. “You’re the bear in my father’s drawings.”

  The bear smiled and nodded. “Winnie the Pooh,” he said, introducing himself. “Pooh for short.” He pointed at the others. “This is Piglet, Eeyore—”

  “And I’m Tigger,” the orange-and-black–striped creature said, jumping in and interrupting Pooh. “T-I-double G-UHR.”

  Madeline couldn’t help smiling at the energetic creature. “What’s a Tigger?” she asked.

  The others let out a round of groans as Tigger began to bounce faster and faster around the court. A huge smile spread across his face and he burst into song. “The wonderful thing about Tiggers,” he sang, “is Tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs. They’re bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun. But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers is I’m the only one!”

  Madeline began clapping, laughing as Tigger finished his song with a flourish.

  Beside her, Eeyore rolled his eyes. “He does that a lot.”

>   “Well…hello,” Madeline said, turning and smiling at everyone. While it was completely unexplainable, somehow her father’s childhood drawings were here—and alive. And if Tigger’s song was any indication, they seemed like they were quite a lot of fun.

  “Did the red balloon make you happy?” Pooh asked, taking the hello as a sign of instant friendship. “Balloons make me very happy.”

  “That was from you?” Madeline asked. She glanced over at the red balloon that was now, thanks to a round at Wimbledon, a bit deflated.

  Pooh shook his head. “No, it was from Christopher Robin.”

  “My father was with you?” Madeline didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Although, it would explain why her father had been slinking out of the woods so early in the morning….

  “Yes,” Pooh answered. “He was helping me find my friends.”

  “And he saved us from the Heffalump,” Piglet added.

  Tigger bounced over. “But he left his Important Papers. Which might have been a smidge my fault.”

  “It was your fault,” Eeyore replied.

  In reaction to his deadpan response, Madeline tried to stifle a smile. She could tell already that Eeyore was the grump of the group. But a lovable one. The others were lovable, too. Her father’s pictures flashed through her mind while she looked at them as they all explained the situation at hand. He had painted these animals in such a clear way but hadn’t been able to capture them completely. Now that they were there and in front of her, Madeline was thrilled.

  “So, we’re going on an expotition to Lon Don,” Piglet went on, mispronouncing the city.

  Pooh nodded seriously. “If we don’t get them to him, a Woozle at work is going to eat him for breakfast.”

  Madeline crinkled her nose. “A…Woo—?” Then she realized what, or rather who, Pooh was talking about. “You must mean Winslow.” As the others continued to talk about their “expotition,” Madeline half-listened, for she had become distracted. She was beginning to get an idea. If the others were going to London, she was going to go with them.

  “Christopher Robin said we should go north.”

  Turning back, Madeline saw that the others had started to head toward the gate. She ran to catch up. “London is northwest, actually,” she said, joining them. “But the train station is south.”

  Pooh looked down at the compass Christopher had given him. The arrow was pointing toward the N. He frowned. “South? I don’t know south.”

  Madeline smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said, grabbing her bike that was resting along the wall of the house. “I do.” Then, one by one, she plopped the animals into the basket on the bike’s front handlebars. They were going on an “expotition.”

  But before they left, Madeline made sure to leave a note. After all, she was responsible. Racing into the house, she grabbed a piece of paper and quickly jotted down the following: On an expotition to Father’s work—got his papers. Be back soon. Satisfied that that would make her mother happy, Madeline taped it to the back door and then raced outside.

  Now they could really start the expedition.

  Madeline was beginning to think that this “expotition” was going to be harder than she had thought. They had made it through town and to the train station without much trouble, but once they arrived at the station, things got a bit more complicated. Madeline knew she couldn’t just walk up to the window with four talking animals. Luckily, Pooh knew what to do after his earlier train adventure with Christopher.

  “Now we play nap time,” Pooh said, quickly explaining how the game was played.

  As the animals went floppy in her arms, Madeline approached the ticket counter. “One ticket please,” she requested. “And a map of London.” Reaching into her pocket for money to pay, Madeline accidentally dropped Eeyore. He landed on the ground with a thud.

  “Ow,” he mumbled. “Figures.”

  Plastering a smile on her face, Madeline quickly shoved the money at the attendant. Then, grabbing the ticket and the map, she darted off. They needed to get on the train before anything else like that happened.

  Luckily, they made it onto the train and found an empty compartment. Settling in, Madeline quickly ordered five cups of tea—much to the porter’s confusion—and then sat back as the train began to roll out of the station and into the surrounding countryside. Beside her, Pooh sat happily eating some honey while the others took in the landscape—except for Piglet, who was feeling a bit sick due to the rocking motion of the train.

  As the train chugged toward the city, a light rain began to fall. It fell against the windows, making a nice rhythmic patter. A grey sky made the warmly lit compartment feel even more inviting and cozy. If it hadn’t been for poor Piglet not feeling well, it would have been a perfectly lovely expedition.

  “Don’t think about it, Piglet,” Tigger said as the little pig tried not to throw up. “I know! I’ll have that raindrop—” he added, pointing to a big droplet of water on the outside of the window. “And you have this one. Race ya to the bottom.”

  “It’s worth a t-t-try,” Piglet stammered, focusing on the window.

  As the two friends began cheering on the raindrops, Madeline watched them, smiling. Then her smile faded. “There’s going to be no fun like this at boarding school, Pooh,” she said softly. For a short while she had been able to forget about the real world that awaited her once they left the country house. But now, as the city’s skyline appeared on the horizon and she saw what fun her new friends were having, she couldn’t help feeling a wave of sadness.

  “Well, why not just not go?” Pooh said, as though that were obvious.

  Madeline looked thoughtful. “If I can get these papers to Father,” she said, her voice growing excited, “maybe he’ll be so happy he won’t make me go. Dreams don’t come for free, Pooh, you’ve got to fight for them.” She paused, her father’s words coming back to her. “Nothing comes from nothing.”

  Pooh nodded. “Oh, yes,” he agreed, misinterpreting Madeline. “Nothing always leads to the very best Something.”

  “What?” Madeline said, the idea sounding foreign to her. Doing nothing was not an option in her house. “Who told you that?”

  Pooh’s answer surprised her. “Christopher Robin,” he said.

  Madeline shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like Father,” she said.

  “That’s because it’s me, Pooh, speaking,” Pooh replied, his tone innocent. Madeline began to smile despite herself. But then the bear went on: “He also said he’s only happy if you’re happy.”

  Madeline’s smile faded completely. Now that was something that definitely did not sound like her father. “I think you are mistaken, Pooh,” she said, trying not to cry.

  But Pooh shook his head. “Oh, we heard him say it, all right. Or my name’s not Winnie the Pooh. Which it is. So, there you are.”

  Just then, Piglet let out a shout as his raindrop slid down the window first. Madeline looked over, happy for the distraction. She wanted to believe Pooh. But if her father cared so much about her, why was he always working instead of playing with her? And why, if he cared, would he want to send her away to boarding school? She turned and looked at the city looming in the distance. She didn’t know the answers. At least not yet. But maybe, just maybe, if she helped him save his job—and those of his cohorts—she might just get him to change his mind.

  Unfortunately, before Madeline could even think about changing her father’s mind, she had to get from the train station to Winslow Luggage. Which meant she had to get a cab and somehow get the four animals to the building without being seen.

  Getting the cab turned out to be easy enough. Madeline had seen her parents do it enough times before to know how to hail a big black car and then give the address of a destination. What turned out to be nearly impossible, however, was making sure that the four animals by her side didn’t blow their cover. Besides Pooh, none of the animals had been to London before, and they wanted to watch and see everything as it passed by the tax
i’s windows.

  Popping up, Tigger looked out the window. But instead of seeing the buildings outside, he caught sight of his reflection. Thinking he was seeing another Tigger, he stared, openmouthed. “Hey! What the—?”

  “Tigger,” Piglet hissed nervously. He looked over at the taxi driver just as the man’s eyes returned to the road in front of him. He had definitely been looking at the back seat through the rearview mirror. “What are you doing?”

  “I just saw the most preposterous imposter!” Tigger said.

  Hearing voices, the cabbie glanced back over his shoulder. “What’s that, love?” he asked.

  Madeline gulped. “Oh, nothing,” she said, trying to sound completely normal and not at all like a young girl traveling alone in a taxi with four talking animals. “Just talking to myself.” Then she leaned down and whispered in Tigger’s ear. “Tigger, be quiet!”

  But Tigger was not good at being quiet even in a normal situation. When presented with a possible imposter? Well, it was downright impossible. Even before Madeline could sit back, he was bouncing on his tail again. This time, he caught his image in the side-view mirror of the taxi. “There’s another one! Look at him! His eyes are too close together!”

  “Tigger!” Madeline whispered as loudly as she dared.

  But the animal didn’t even pretend to listen. He was far too focused on the “other Tigger” and the creature’s flaws. “Look at that silly stripy hat and his little cauliflower ears.” Tigger was growing more and more agitated. His paws were up in front of his nose and he was bouncing from the floor to the seat and back again as he tried to determine where the other Tigger was. Every time he bounced, the whole taxi shook.

  Turning to see what the commotion was—and how one little girl could be making his taxi shake—the cabdriver caught sight of Tigger. He did a double take. But just as he looked back, Tigger ducked down again. The cabbie shook his head. He needed to lay off the caffeine and get some sleep. He was beginning to see things.