Chapter 7 & 8 - The Child in the Museum

Chapter 7

Amelia found the boy, finally. It had taken her so long before she realized that the mom was no longer in her usual spot drawing the statue. Amelia at least knew they were there because she passed her on her way to the entrance. She had hoped at the time that the mom wouldn’t see her or recognize her, and luckily, she didn’t. She figured, by deduction, that they must be in the upstairs portion of the museum now. It took her some time, but she located them within the musical instruments.

She motioned that he follow her to the room next door. The boy followed her and once they were definitely out of sight of the mother, who seemed to be engrossed with looking at an old harp, Amelia said very seriously, “What I told you earlier today...you have to keep it a secret.”

Arthur whispered back brightly, clearly happy to see her, “Okay, I will!”

“No but seriously, it’s very important. I actually don’t even know what came over me that made me tell you so much, but the life I have depends on no one, and I mean no one, knowing anything about me.”

“You can trust me!” he said earnestly.

Amelia held her breath, “You didn’t say anything already to your mom?”

“Not a word.”

“She didn’t ask?”

“No...usually she’s more interested in my friends, but no. She didn’t.”

Amelia let out a huge breath. She also noticed him calling her a friend.

“Okay, good. Thanks, really.”

The boy eyed the blue sticker on her shoulder. “How’d you get that? Do you have money to pay admission every day?”

She smiled – she’d never thought about the option of stealing money and buying herself admission for real. Maybe that would be putting herself at too much risk still, though.

“I have my tricks! Listen, Arthur, right? Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Amelia, I remember your name. I think we’ll be here for two more weeks, and so far my mom has wanted to come here every day to work on her drawings.”

“Perfect! I wonder if you’d like to meet me in the Egyptian section tomorrow. I thought I saw something strange and I would love some company to check it out.”

“Sure!” Arthur glanced over toward the room his mom was in, seeming like he didn’t want to be out of her sight for too long.

“Okay, I’ll see you sometime tomorrow over there.” Amelia said definitively, turning away and walking before Arthur had the chance to say goodbye. For some reason, she didn’t want to say goodbye. She wanted to find a spot to rest and collect her thoughts for a moment. 

A little away, she found a cushy bench, overlooking a glass case with the inside of a piano on display. As she sat down, she looked back over in the direction of where she had been having the conversation with Arthur, to see that he had already left, probably to go back to his mom’s side. She sensed that he was perhaps apprehensive about wandering too far and breaking the rules, although he also seemed to have a very adventurous spirit.

Amelia relaxed her posture into the bench. She trusted the boy. She wasn’t about to be found out. Everything seemed to be safe, as it always has been. Her track record for remaining hidden has been impeccable.

She studied the piano display, her eyes exploring the various strings and hammers that worked together intricately within the instrument. She wasn’t as familiar with the details of the music section of the museum, and it might be a good idea to begin to study up on it. One of Amelia’s life goals was to get to know every part of the museum so well that as soon as she was old enough, she could interview for a position at the museum, begin to earn her own money, and build her own life independently. She would have such vast knowledge that there would be no question about whether or not to hire her, even if she didn’t have an official education. She wasn’t sure how everything like that worked exactly, but she couldn’t imagine how someone could say no to the amount of knowledge she already had, much less what she would have with almost ten more years of study. Her dream was to be one of the museum tour guides, to show each of her favorite art pieces while describing the information by memory, reciting the special stories that went with each one. She had now memorized many of these by listening in to tours herself, and she could easily add in her own personal opinions and commentary.

She could hear one in the distance, in fact – the familiar sound of an articulate guide, and the faint murmur of the tour group as they laughed at her jokes and chattered amongst themselves. She considered joining the group before she noticed the little boy, Arthur, appear with his equally redheaded mother. Amelia sat very still as she observed them from the other side of the case, once again well hidden behind a couple panes of glass. 

The boy’s mom gave him a big hug, kissing his head. He looked very content. She was talking to him quietly. There was something so sweet, so pure, about their interactions. Amelia felt a hollowness, a pang somewhere near her heart, as she witnessed what she knew she would never be able to experience herself.

The hours passed, and Amelia was still sitting on the bench in the music section. The redheaded mother and son had long gone. She had stayed in the same place, sitting on the bench in front of the piano display, the way you might in a forest – if you are still and quiet for long enough, the forest comes alive around you and you see animals come out that you may never have noticed. Today Amelia had especially been noticing families. There was a deep sorrow within her that had crept up today – she could feel it in her throat.

“The museum will be closing in 15 minutes.”

A voice came over the intercom. Amelia was shocked at how easily time had slipped past. She had been stationary, thinking, for probably half of the day. There wasn’t any time to waste – she had to get back to her area before the museum staff closed in. As the museum closed, the staff would clear out each section, make sure it was empty, then join the next staff member in clearing out their area, until all of the staff met in the entrance and could infer that the entire museum was empty. Amelia escaped their gaze every time! She had a very specific pattern: she first made her way into the modern art section, which was far enough from the entrance that only one staff member would be clearing it out, and there were usually enough people there for her to go unnoticed as she took her hiding spot behind a very large, brightly colored sculpture. This spot was just out of sight of a camera, and placed in such a way that she easily could have exited to a different section. No one even rewatching the footage would assume that she had hidden for the night. From there, she waited a few minutes and listened carefully as the sound of people became more and more distant. Then, still out of sight of the camera, she slipped into a staff door, which led to a staircase and hallway that was never monitored, and at this time, never had any staff. This led her close to the area of her bedroom, which by the time she got there, would also be cleared out. There was a specific track she took, crouching and staying out-of-sight of the cameras, to get her to her bedroom, of which she only had about a fourth accessible that no camera captured. That corner was her corner, and once she got there every evening, she felt the freedom and peace. She had been practicing reading, and once she felt a little stronger with it, she planned to find a way to steal books from the gift shop to read in her bed at night. Life was a constant balance of determining which risks were worth taking, and her thirst for information and exploration was unquenchable, usually always worth the risk.

Chapter 8

Morning light streamed through the grand windows at the entrance of the museum as Arthur and his mom entered, bundled up by the chilly walk. 

“Can we go to the Egyptian section today?” Arthur asked.

“Hmmm. There’s a sculpture I was planning to draw in the Greek section today. Perhaps on another day?”

“It’s on the first floor, can I just go there myself?”

Arthur held his breath for a moment as his mother considered.

“The problem is that the entrance is in between the Greek and the Egyptian exhibit, and we have no idea who’s coming in and out. I’d really feel better if I were there on the same side with you! Let’s go to the Egyptian section and we can explore it together after I’m done with the drawing. Alright, little one?” she ran her fingers through his hair. He shook his head away, annoyed.

Arthur felt frustrated. He couldn’t explain that he needed to meet the secret other child there because, well, it was a secret. He wondered if there was a way he could explain Amelia without giving her away.

“Do you remember the little girl I introduced you to yesterday, Amelia?”

“Um, no. Oh wait, yes! Your new friend. I’m sorry, how could I forget.”

“Well, she’s here every day. Her parents work at the museum. She asked me to meet her there and I would be safe with her, I promise! She knows her way around.”

“I’m sorry, you can play with Amelia there after I’m done with my drawing. You can invite her to this side of the museum this morning.”

Arthur felt exasperated. His mom couldn’t understand that there was absolutely no way for Arthur to find Amelia or contact her, he would just have to wait until they ran into each other again. It wasn’t like he could send her a mental note to hang out today on his side of the museum.

A couple hours later, Arthur had still had no sign of Amelia. He was wandering through some pottery exhibits, feeling bored. What felt like every fifteen minutes or so, he would find his mom and look over her shoulder. She’d offer to him that he could sketch too, and he would just shrug and go find something to look at.

As Arthur turned around a display case, it seemed like one of the larger statues in the hallway moved! It was as if it tilted its head in his direction, and in a split second, tilted it back. Arthur blinked. It took a moment of shock, and then a surge of fear flooded his system. He was very far away from his mom, which actually wasn’t a feeling he was used to, especially when accompanied by an experience that made him afraid. But could he even be sure about what he saw? He saw the “movement” at a distance – in another room across the way. He stared intently at the statue, and it was perfectly stationary. He walked slowly and quietly in that direction. As he got closer, the more still and solid the statue felt, and the braver Arthur became. He marched right up to it and looked it in the face. It stared back at him with lifeless eyes, sculpted clearly out of stone with small holes to cast shadows to look like pupils. But the illusion was lost when you looked up close, and they didn’t look like eyes at all. Arthur thought this statue looked like some sort of philosopher, a wise thinker, his thoughts lost to time. After a minute or so, Arthur was bored with this investigation. He turned to walk away, but just as he did a white glow seemed to emanate from the statue itself. He wheeled back around, and upon not seeing anything once again, he darted back to his mom as quickly as possible.

“No running in the museum!” said Ted, the stick-in-the-mud security guard who really had no imagination at all for someone who spent every day surrounded by art. Arthur had continuously found him dull, and every interaction he had with him had something to do with some rule Arthur was unintentionally crossing. 

Before Arthur could slow himself down, he was already at his mother’s side, tugging on her sleeve.

“Mom, mom. I need to show you a sculpture over there.”

“Hold on.”

“Please come look!” Arthur pointed at the philosopher statue intently and his mom looked over. She leaned over quite a bit to get a good look at it, and then examined Arthur, puzzled.

‘What’s the deal? Would you like to sketch that sculpture? I’d be happy to…”

“It was moving!”

“Sweetheart, you have had such a vivid imagination lately!” She said laughing and giving him a hug. “It’s all okay. There are so many people about and no one else seems alarmed about a moving sculpture.”

“What do you mean lately? Anyway, I know what I saw, and I saw something twice, so…”

“Why don’t you just stay by my side until you feel better, or you can wait here with me until we head to the Egyptian section, alright? Or of course, you could stay nearby Ted. But you are safe, either way.”

Arthur sat cross-legged on the floor, putting his head on his hands. Whenever he saw Ted, he wished that Pat was working. They seemed to trade shifts and never seemed to be working at the same time – when Ted was there, Pat usually wasn’t.

This day was not going how he would like it to. As he sat he felt swamped with the feeling of guilt, imagining that Amelia was somewhere in the Egyptian section, waiting for him, perhaps at that very moment.