Chapter 3 & 4 - The Child in the Museum

Chapter 3

Breakfast. Amelia’s stomach rumbled. She put a hand on it, hanging back in the shadows of a statue, sitting on a ledge looking as still and as innocent as possible, she watched a couple of guests coming in. An older gentleman with a wooden cane sat down at a table, with a coffee in a cardboard cup still steaming. He shifted his weight and pulled a single page of a newspaper out of his back pocket, took a pen from his breast pocket, and began to work on a crossword puzzle. She had seen this man here before, and had often found finished puzzles left at his empty table after he left to take his routine walk around the first floor of the museum. 

Nearby, a disheveled-looking mother with two young children gathered up some chairs. Given the time of morning, Amelia assumed that these children were too young to be in school. Later on in the day she would often see older children in homeschool groups or large groups of children out on school field trips. She often found herself feeling envious of the social atmosphere surrounding these groups of children, sometimes even of the simple companionship of siblings. Envious feelings aside, she couldn’t wish upon herself the strict tones of the teachers keeping the students in line, or the exasperated voices of parents trying to make their children behave. The mother began to spoon feed the youngest daughter applesauce, while the other daughter impatiently begged for a dessert from the café.

Amelia had to time her breakfast just right. She was usually successful in this endeavor, but some mornings she had to go without breakfast at all. The café staff had to still be distracted enough with the hustle and bustle of setting up for the day, while the café itself had to have enough people present for Amelia to be able to sit and eat without notice. The mom with two children was a good sign, because Amelia could sit at the table next to them and appear like she might be a part of that family, at least blending in enough to not get a second look. It would be best if there were another family nearby so that she could sit in between them—each family would assume she was with the other one. If they gave it a thought, that is. Everyone was so caught up in their own business and thoughts that they wouldn’t notice if someone was taking their poodle for a jog through the museum. Usually, children still had the presence of mind to catch her eye often with a look of curiosity. This never concerned her because children weren’t as attached to the rules. The real people Amelia needed to avoid attention from were the museum security guards and staff.

As if her own thoughts had conjured the perfect situation, a mother and her son checked out of the café register with a couple of granola bars and then moved to take their seats. They both had bright red hair, and the son seemed to be about the same age as one of the children at the other table – Amelia would guess seven years old – but he seemed to be much more well-behaved. It was time for Amelia to make her move.

Gingerly, Amelia left her post behind the statue, walking casually to the opening of the kitchen behind the café. As she got closer, she heard the clinking of silverware, the incessant hum of different machines and fans, and the stern voice of the head cook. He was ordering around the young staff members, who seemed young enough to be teenagers. As usual, they had a shipment of pastries in wrappers that they would unwrap, toast, and put in the display case. Amelia could usually snatch a few of the pastries—still in their packages—without notice. She didn’t mind them not being heated up: the trick was timing! If a window of opportunity presented itself, she couldn’t hesitate.

Amelia hung back, acting as if she was looking at the menu while making sure she wasn’t in the cashier’s line of sight. Her ears were focused on the sound of the cook talking to his employees. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the cook turn his back and, quicker than lightning, she grabbed two packaged pastries. She slipped them into the folds of her skirt and walked with purpose to the table in between the two small families. Amelia figured that if she were taking the risk to steal one, she might as well steal two.

Mindfully, she unwrapped the first pastry and breathed in the smell of the sweet icing. Overall she ate surprisingly well: the indulgent breakfasts; the fancy food she managed to steal from catered events, galas, and banquets for the city’s most wealthy; and the huge abundance of food options in the cafeteria on the lower level of the museum. That cafeteria didn’t open until later in the day, but she could always go there for lunch and dinner. It would be so crowded and busy that she had no problem getting any meal she wanted. She could blend in very well with school groups and no one ever seemed to pay her any mind. Amelia tried to remind herself every day that she lived in great prosperity, especially as an orphan.

The first family packed up noisily and left. As a result, Amelia was able to tune into the mother and son’s quiet conversation.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sketch with me today? I can pull off a piece of paper for you and I’m sure we could find something to prop it up on…”

“But Mom, I really want to keep exploring. I found an amazing room with wooden sculptures that reach all the way up to the ceiling, painted all sorts of different colors!”

“Have you found the knights in shining armor yet?”

“Nope!”

“Well then… you’ll have to ask Pat to show you” said his mom with a wink “and if you want to draw them with me, let me know and tomorrow I can migrate to the armor section.”

Amelia started unwrapping her second pastry. Just as she was about to take her first bite, the boy with red hair caught her eye. She froze for a moment, but then continued to eat as if she hadn’t noticed anything, looking down at the other empty wrapper. She hoped it wasn’t obvious to him that she had stolen them.

“Would you like your sunflower butter and jelly sandwich now or later?”  The boy’s mom began to unwrap the sandwich without waiting for a response.

“Um…” the boy was thoughtful, wistfully looking toward the sculptures in the background—mythological figures battling dragons. “I don’t really feel like that right now.” 

Amelia followed his gaze toward the European sculptures. She tried to imagine someone seeing these great works of art for the first time, but she couldn’t quite do it—not only does she see them every day, but she has seen them her entire life. Honestly, she couldn’t really remember anything before this life in the museum; it was as if she had been there forever. The works of art have been the only friends she has ever had. She wished for a chance to see them with fresh eyes, a new perspective. How exciting life would be! She imagined that if she were coming here for the first time, she could spend a few weeks, if not months, looking at everything, constantly discovering something new. She lived for the moments that she had the chance to explore a new visiting exhibit. One of these days, she would find a way to break into the museum storage, seeing all of the art pieces stored away in the dark, and discovering a whole new world.

Amelia snapped out of her daydream as the boy and his mom stood up to leave, the mother gathering her sketchbook and any trash left on the table. Amelia shifted in her seat and looked around. There were hardly any other people in the café, so she needed to look like she was leaving with the mom and boy. She had half a pastry left, and she wrapped it back up in the rest of its wrapper, covering it again with the wrapper from her eaten pastry, so as not to leave any evidence behind. She figured she could always finish the rest of her pastry while hiding in one of the public restrooms or when she made her way to the bigger cafeteria.

Chapter 4

Arthur followed his mom back toward the corner of the museum that they had been haunting for the whole first part of the day. He kept trying to sneak glances as he noticed a little girl following not too far behind. She looked to be about two years older than him, with curly black hair, and a contemplative look on her face, as if she were drawn into her interior world. She had been sitting near them for a while, and he had wondered where her parents were. Seeing her walking alone, he wondered if her parents let her explore the museum freely, like how he was beginning to do. He wished he wouldn’t be so shy – it would be nice to meet a new friend, to have someone to explore the museum with. Then again, he would feel sad to make a whole new friend today and then never see her again. When he looked back behind him he no longer saw the little girl in view.

After an hour or so of Arthur exploring the African section alone, he noticed the little girl sitting in the corner watching him. There was no hiding the fact that they were the only two people in the large room, so Arthur decided it would be strange not to say hello, and began to move in her direction.

“Hi, I’m Arthur.”

“I’m Amelia”

“It’s nice to meet you! Are you here on a visit? Are you traveling with your family?”

A strange look crossed her face.

“Not at all actually. I live here.”

“Oh, wow. I can’t imagine living in a city so big all of the time. I’ve been here about a week and find it hard to sleep.” Last night the honking horns and general flood of light somehow coming through the thick hotel curtains kept him awake much later than usual. “Do you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Her answer was short, as if she were on guard and didn’t trust him yet. 

Arthur decided it would be best if he left her alone, and turned toward one of the towering carved figures that looked like many faces stacked on top of each other, multicolored and expressive. “Cool things in this room,” he said, as if commenting on the weather.

“Where’s your mom?” she asked, quickly and directly.

Arthur turned back in her direction.

“My mom worked it out with the staff so that I can explore on my own. Today is the first day! But I can’t go upstairs by myself. How about you? Where are your parents?”

The girl paused for a moment. “They aren’t here.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to say. He thought carefully, “Are you in school?”

“No, actually. I live here!”

“This is your museum?” Arthur imagined she could be the daughter of the owners, whoever they are, and maybe they lived on-site.

“In a way, yes.” Her back straightened and she seemed much more at ease. Arthur was confused, but certainly very impressed. 

Her eyes quickly scanned the room and she lowered her voice, “I’m actually an orphan.” 

Taken aback, Arthur wasn’t sure what to say next. She somehow didn’t seem too sad about it.

“Since when?”

“Since…as long as I can remember. And also, I’ve lived here as long as I can remember.” 

Arthur looked at the girl intently, feeling as if she were a character in a storybook. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if he believed her. He heard his mom calling him from the other room. Amelia looked startled, shuffling a bit towards the door to a further room.

“Are you always here?” he asked after her.

She nodded, as Arthur’s mom rounded the corner.

Arthur didn’t want the girl to leave him, and let his words fall out quickly, “I’ve been getting to know someone. Mom, this is Amelia.”

Arthur’s mom almost looked over Amelia, seeming a bit distracted and not quite making eye contact. “Nice to meet you, Amelia. Arthur, do you want to invite Amelia to lunch or say goodbye here?”

Amelia was already waving goodbye as she exited the room. 

“I guess goodbye, then!” Arthur said after her, disappointed with her abrupt exit.

Arthur wished his mom’s invitation had sounded a bit warmer, more open. He wasn’t sure that Amelia had met very many kind people who were willing to reach out to her. He even wondered if she needed help, which was something he hadn’t considered until that moment. When they were talking, she seemed so independent and confident. In the big museum, she looked so much smaller, so much more alone, disappearing into the distance.

Arthur’s mom pulled out her sketchbook and started leading him in the opposite direction, back toward the café area. “Would you like to see what I’ve been working on?"