Chapter 9 & 10 - The Child in the Museum

Chapter 9

It was mid-afternoon and Amelia had not yet run into the young boy. She had planned to spend time investigating the Egyptian section, trying to figure out what the creepy shadow figure was, but every time she stepped into it she felt overcome with strange feelings. It was as if all of the items were buzzing with some sort of energy, like there was a hum in the room telling her to get out. And every time she could remember, she had quickly listened to it. It felt like she was heeding a warning. It felt like she wasn’t allowed. So Amelia decided to perch herself on the upper level of the museum, looking down on the entrance. She figured that she would spot the boy if he decided to head to the Egyptian section, unless of course he was coming from a different part of the museum, but this felt most likely. She also figured that he would be easy to spot because of his bright red hair.

She watched the visitors coming in and out, a steady hum of audible sounds – rather than the hum of creepy feelings – of conversations that she couldn’t quite make out, but definitely filled with excitement and joy. Amelia enjoyed the energy of the people at the museum as they cycled through day-in and day-out. They tended to be people enjoying adventure or time off, following their interests and their passions, or children getting a break from school. Although in one way she was very alone, she hardly ever felt that way, during the day at least. Today, in fact, she felt a lot better than how she did yesterday, when she felt unusually overcome with sorrow over her situation. Today she again felt very grateful, she felt like a princess of the museum. Her reign however clearly ended at the edge of the Egyptian section of course – that felt like someone else’s domain.

Amelia’s stomach grumbled. She thought that perhaps she should let herself get some food, and maybe she should go by the side of the museum that connects to the other side of the Egyptian section just in case she might locate the boy. It made most sense to go to the cafe where she usually went to get breakfast. She thought that she should actually avoid the side of the museum with the scary humming sensation altogether, and go through the Greek and Roman, then the African section, where she had seen the young boy yesterday. 

This seemed to be a wise decision, because what must have been less than ten minutes, Amelia was face to face with the boy, Arthur.

“Oh, you startled me!” he exclaimed, standing up from the floor.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry! My mom wouldn’t let me go meet you in the Egyptian section and I didn’t know how to contact you.”

“It’s fine,” Amelia almost cut him off, “That place is giving me such creeps that I really don’t want to explore it today anyway. Listen, I could use a snack. Want to come?”

Arthur hopped up. “Yes, sure! Let me tell my mom. I was hoping she’d finish soon but then she started her drawing over, and I think I easily have an hour or two to spare.”

When Arthur had returned, nodding and smiling, they set off together. It felt nice to have a friend. This wasn’t something that Amelia had experienced before, as long as she could remember. She had certainly met other children briefly, but never had they asked her about her life and never had she told them. She also couldn’t think of a time that she talked to someone two days in a row. They continued through the exhibits,  laughing, and talking about things of not much importance, mostly noticing funny-looking art and even funnier-looking people. Amelia felt so at ease in his company. In a way, she felt safer. She was no longer a person trying to appear like she was part of a group, but she belonged. She had a companion who had a mom, and if anyone questioned them, it would be much easier to explain.

“What do you like to eat?” Amelia asked.

“Well, today I’ve had carrots and hummus.”

“What is hummus?”

“Nothing exciting. I would love something sweet.” They had entered the café. “But I don’t have any money on me,” he added, obviously not considering how she could possibly have money on her in the first place, “so I guess I won’t not have anything right now.” He sounded a bit disappointed, but resolute.

“Well I don’t have money either. I could either steal money or steal food, and it seems easiest to just go for what it is that I really want.” Amelia said, making sure she wasn’t in earshot of anyone but him. He looked surprised, but intrigued. “How does one of those pastries sound?”

“I’ve never had one, I’ve always wanted to try one!”

“I’ll teach you how so you can get one anytime!” She said brightly, and proceeded to describe to him her usual routine of grabbing them from the boxes shipped in, still in their wrappers. Arthur looked nervous, but she could also tell that something in him really wanted to try. “Do you want to watch me or do you want to do it?”

“You do this every day and never get caught? I really don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Every single day. Exactly the way that I told you. We just have to wait and make sure that we time it right.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll tell you when!” They waited, listening and watching. The door to the kitchen opened a crack and the pastries were an arm’s reach into the room. No other staff were in their line of sight, at least until Arthur would make the move. She had explained to him how he had to be really fast, really sure of his movements.

“Now!” she exclaimed. Arthur shot forward, extending his arm through the door, and grasping two pastries.

“Excuse me, young man!” a middle-aged security guard rounded the corner. Arthur dropped the pastries on the ground and backed up quickly.

Amelia closed her eyes tight, hoping she could disappear. She had to own up to it, though, and couldn’t bear to make Arthur be the one in trouble. She took a sharp breath of courage in and said loudly, “It wasn’t him, sir, I asked him to steal those for me because I am hungry. I made him do it.”

“What do you think you are doing?” the man said, completely ignoring Amelia.

Arthur looked between them, thoroughly confused, “I...I...I don’t know.”

The man picked up the two packages of pastries and clicked his tongue.

“Arthur, you know your mom isn’t going to let you wander alone any more as soon as I told her what you tried to do.” A kitchen staff member opened the door and looked down at the boy.

“Ted, I’m really sorry.” Arthur hung his head, his body was shaking with leftover adrenaline.

Amelia was stunned – how did they know each other’s name? Why did no one acknowledge what she already said?

Summoning up that same amount of bravery, which seemed even heavier and more difficult this time, Amelia blurted out, “Sir, it was me, not him. Like I said, I made him do it. I don’t have any money, and he would have bought them for me if I did, I’m sure.” The man was ignoring her still, and Amelia raised her voice louder. “He only wanted to help me, sir. I told him I had nothing to eat. He’s younger than me – I made him do it.”

No response.

Arthur stared at her, his mouth hanging open wide in shock. He looked back at the man, who had pulled out his walkie talkie.

“Paging whoever is currently manning the Greek and Roman section. Please find the redheaded woman sketching and tell her to report immediately to the cafe in the European section, thank you.” He sounded like a person who loved being in charge. Was his way of ignoring her meant to intimidate them? Make her feel silent, powerless?

“Excuse me, sir.”

Arthur hesitated, “Ted, you said I’m alone? I’m not...I have a friend with me...it isn’t her fault though.” His voice was shaking and he seemed unsure of himself.

The man named Ted looked around, looking through Amelia and beyond. He looked back at Arthur with his eyebrows raised. “Where is this friend?”

Arthur looked at the kitchen staff member, who had so far been silent.

“You see her, don’t you?” Arthur’s voice was still quivering.

“You seem to be alone to me.”

Chapter 10

“I am simply trying to wrap my head around the fact that you would make the decision to steal…”

“Mom, please.” Arthur really didn’t want anyone in the coffee shop they went to every morning, people they were used to seeing every day, to hear about the shameful occurrences of the day before.

“I told you, it was Amelia’s idea that I...”

“You know, Arthur, that I like to encourage imagination in every way I can, but this has gotten out of hand, Amelia is your imaginary friend and you cannot pass the blame onto her.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped.

“You mean you didn’t see her? Mom, I introduced you to her!”

The line inched forward toward the counter.

“Of course I didn’t.” Arthur was speechless. “And I get it. You don’t have the opportunity on this trip to play with other children. I understand wanting to have an imaginary friend.”

Arthur caught sight of the sweet, sticky pastries in the glass showcase. They were very similar to the ones in the museum, and today the sight of them made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that no one, except for him, seems to have seen Amelia. And yet, he knew the difference between imaginative play and real life. He was absolutely certain that there was no way he was imagining her.
“And I’ve been giving it a lot of thought…” Arthur’s mom began, but her statement was cut off as the people in front of them moved away from the counter, and it was their turn to order. “The usual, please, a green tea and a banana.” As she fumbled in her wallet for a tip, Arthur’s heart sunk. The days of him exploring the museum by himself were surely over.

His mom thanked the man at the counter, not the usual barista thank goodness, as Arthur felt so embarrassed by their conversation – they moved to the side. “Here’s what I think would be best…” she finally continued, “I need to finish up my painting from yesterday, but after that we are going to draw together. You can pick the spot. We can draw anything in the museum.”

Arthur stared out the window, feeling powerless. There was no way he’d be able to talk to Amelia today if he had to be glued to his mom’s side. Although, if no one else could see her, maybe it wouldn’t matter. He was itching to talk to Amelia. He hadn’t gotten a chance to since the event, and they needed to get to the bottom of what was going on.

“But while I am finishing up my drawing, you are going to volunteer to help out in the café kitchen. I’ve called ahead and sorted it out. Pat will be working the European sculpture section, so she will be right nearby, and your help in the kitchen for an hour or so will help make up for your actions yesterday. But I also need to hear from you that you will never attempt something like this again.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I will never steal. I wouldn’t have done it if…”

“No, no. Just talk about yourself.”

“I am really, really sorry.”

And Arthur really was. This was a mess.

Arthur reported to duty at the small kitchen that led to the museum cafe. He felt so small in that busy, crowded space. His shoulders didn’t even reach past the counter tops that all of the food preparation seemed to take place on. He had no idea what he could possibly do to help.

He thought about how his dad would often cook big pots of vegetable stews and curries. Arthur loved watching him chop up vegetables and helping him, and as a child he would often stand on a little stool in order to see.

Feeling sorry for himself, Arthur wondered how safe he even was in a kitchen where who-knows-how-many knives are being used! Maybe that was the angle he should have taken when discussing this situation with his mom…

A younger staff member, probably an assistant of some kind – definitely not one of the people in charge – approached him. Arthur recognized him from the incident, and couldn’t help but think that his eyes looked pitying on him, as if he really didn’t want to be there to punish him or even see him get in trouble in the first place. Arthur appreciated the kinder, softer energy of this man in comparison to the harsh, gruff head cook. 

“Hi Arthur, I’m Frederick. We’ll be ever so grateful for your help today. Would you like an easy job?”

Arthur nodded. Frederick was tall, but he hunched over slightly in such a way as if he didn’t want to show his full height. He had sandy brown hair and lots of freckles, all over his face and arms. Arthur knew that a lot of redheads have freckles like this guy does, but he and his mom both seemed to have skipped over that trait.

“It isn’t the most glamorous, but it certainly is important.” Frederick handed Arthur a dust pan and a small brush. Arthur knew exactly what to do, as he often helped his mom with cleaning. He couldn’t feel anymore humiliated than he already did, so a job crouched on the floor already suited his mood.

“If you can sweep up any crumbs, and scraps that fall from the counter. After you’ve done what you can, if there isn’t anything to sweep up, feel free to just hang out.” The head cook turned a knob on a small radio and Arthur heard piano music crackle out and fill the space. He looked out the doorway to see Pat at a distance, standing in the room with all of the European sculptures. He gave her a little wave, and she, somehow looking in his direction, waved back.

Arthur noticed Frederick glance over at Pat, A little rosiness creeping up on and around his ears. Stifling a little laugh, Arthur wondered if Frederick fancied Pat. He wished he had his new friend to joke about this with, and his heart sank again. When would he see Amelia again, and would this mystery surrounding her very existence ever be solved?

“Okay, I can do this.”

Frederick gave him a cheerful nod and began sorting the silverware.

“I have a question, Frederick. Have you…have you ever noticed pastries go missing before? Or anything, for that matter?”

Frederick gave a little laugh. “We don’t often get thieves here. Actually, part of my job is tallying up the items at the beginning and the end of the day. As we get boxes of pastries and other items off the truck, I add the totals to the list. At the end of the day I look at the sales, count what’s left, and see if it all matches up. See if we need to order more, based on the amount we usually sell. Never have I noticed even one pastry go missing. Seems like you had a very original idea, there!”

Arthur began getting to work on the floor. He decided to take this opportunity to think, and as he cleared the floor, he tried to clear his mind of all of his embarrassment and worries. He started to match his breathing with the sweeping of the brush, which is something his mom always reminded him to do. She would always remind him if he felt sad, angry, disappointed, or out of sorts to focus on his breath.

About thirty minutes later, Pat peaked in at the door.

Frederick almost dropped the silverware he had so carefully been organizing on and off the whole time Arthur was there – never with a misstep until that moment.

“Are you here for your lunch break, Pat?”

She raised an eyebrow at Frederick. “It’s only ten in the morning. I’m here to check on Arthur. How are they treating you?” She asked, turning toward him, “I hope they aren’t working you too hard!”

“I’m doing fine!”

“That’s good.” She said sweetly. “So. Can Arthur have a break, Fred?”

“Absolutely!” Frederick said, his ears bright red once again. Pat motioned for Arthur to follow her. As he left the kitchen, he noticed how drastically cooler the air was in the museum outside of the kitchen. No wonder he had been working up a sweat!

“So I heard you had a little situation yesterday, is that right?”

“Yes, but no one seems to be understanding what actually happened. I would never steal or even have the idea to steal, but I was with a friend, you see, and she has to steal to get her food, and I was just seeing how she lives, I guess.” The words tumbled out of him.

“Hmmm.” Pat said thoughtfully. “Who is this friend, again?”

“She doesn’t really like to be talked about.” Arthur said, realizing how strange that must sound. He wished he could ask Pat if she had ever seen a little girl with dark hair wandering the museum alone. Pat worked so often and was so open and receptive to people that he was sure she would have noticed. And if anyone in the museum was accepting of Amelia’s situation, who wouldn’t make a big deal about it, it would be Pat.

“Come, sit.” Pat plopped down on a bench, crossing her legs and leaning forward. Arthur sat next to her, looking up and almost startling as he saw the familiar shape of a girl with curly dark hair standing on the other side of the space, her arms crossed and head tilted, looking in his direction. Arthur quickly looked away, trying not to make his reaction obvious, as Pat began to speak in a low, caring voice.

“I did all sorts of crazy stuff when I was a kid, testing the limits and seeing what I could get away with. I guess I was always a bit rebellious. But you’re only seven and I’m sure you know that there’s no reason for you to get in the habit of stealing right now. Right?”

A tear formed in Arthur’s right eye, and he tried to brush it away without notice. The overwhelming feelings of wanting to please so many people at once were flooding over him.

Pat seemed to notice. She said, softly, “I’m going to tell your mom that you and I had a talk. That I think you learned your lesson from the kitchen work and that tomorrow she should let you explore on your own again. I work the rest of the week and I will assure her that I will keep a closer eye on you. How does that sound?”

Arthur nodded, choking back new tears. He really didn’t want the kitchen staff to think he had been crying.