Masterpiece (10 page)

“About this one?” James asked. “
Justice
?”

“Yes, and the others.”

Marvin saw Denny’s shoes move to the door. “I can’t wait to hear this,” he said. “Maybe then we’ll know what you’re up to.”

“James,” Karl said impatiently.

“Okay, Dad,” James answered. Marvin watched the sneakers turn and trail reluctantly behind Karl’s scuffed loafers. All four pairs of shoes drifted into the hallway, the light went off, and the door closed with a thud.

Marvin huddled in the dark. He listened to their footsteps echoing down the hall until the room was silent.

His parents would be crazy with worry, not knowing where he was. But what could he do about that now? James would be back tomorrow, Marvin felt sure of it. There was a connection between them, more than just the drawing. He knew James felt it too. Even though they’d only officially met that morning, it seemed as if they had known each other a long time. There was some mysterious click of understanding. Marvin had never felt that with anyone before.

He crawled out from under the table and climbed one of its massive wooden legs. The book lay open in
front of him, smelling faintly of mildew, a comforting musty odor that made Marvin think of the water-softened walls of home. He crept across its satiny pages and stopped at the edge of the
Justice
drawing. There, he settled down for the night, memorizing every line.

J
ust as the morning sunlight slanted through the large windows, Marvin heard a clatter out in the hallway. Moments later, a stoop-shouldered custodian wearing a brown coverall pushed through the door. He dragged a large trash can and a bucket of cleaning supplies. Marvin flattened himself, diving into the hollow between the bound pages and the book’s thick cover. From there, he watched the custodian run his broom lazily over the floor, scooping a small pile of dust and debris into the trash, then wiping the tabletop disinterestedly with a rag. He didn’t bother to move the book, so Marvin was safe.

Once the office was empty again, Marvin began to explore. He crawled down the table leg to the floor and then over to the far wall, quickly ascending to the windowsill. The view of the park was dizzyingly panoramic. Marvin could see feathery gray clusters of trees and thin asphalt paths cutting through winter grass. In the distance, people bundled in dark coats hurried away on
their morning business, insignificant specks.
This must be what beetles look like to humans
, Marvin thought.

He crawled along the sill to Christina’s desk, the surface of which was mostly bare, except for two neat stacks of paper, a canister of pens and pencils, a clock, and a silver-framed photograph. The photo was of Christina sitting on a sofa, feet tucked under her, with two little girls next to her. Or, really, Marvin thought, on top of her. One leaned across her lap, smiling up at her; the other was draped over her shoulders, one hand tangled possessively in her hair. Christina herself looked messy and rumpled, very unlike her appearance yesterday. But her face was shining. The girls had her delicate features and her same blond hair, only lighter. They must be her daughters, Marvin decided.

For the rest of the morning, he trekked around the office. He climbed the shelves and surveyed the stiff rows of books. He clung to the cord of the window shade and entertained himself by launching away from the wall and swinging slowly back and forth while the room gyrated below him. It was the closest he could come to flying, a skill shared by many other kinds of beetles—ladybugs, weevils—that Marvin and his family often envied.

In the early afternoon, he was pleased to find a thumbtack under the desk. If he’d been home, he would have promptly dragged it back to his collection, eager to show Elaine. Instead, he shoved it across the floor and hid it behind one of the table legs, feeling a bit more secure to know that a weapon was available should he have need of it.

After a while, Marvin grew hungry. He thought longingly of the substantial breakfast Mama and Papa would be enjoying right now, compliments of the Pompadays. Bagel with cream cheese? Pancake with maple syrup? The feast beneath William’s high chair offered endless variety now that the baby was old enough to try different foods, but still young enough to enjoy throwing fistfuls onto the floor.

Marvin crawled over to the wastebasket by the file cabinet in the hope of finding a stray morsel. The custodian had banged it empty, but fortunately, his careless sweeping had scattered several crumbs under the desk. At first Marvin thought they were only bread crumbs—stale ones, he suspected, the leavings of a sandwich
eaten days ago. But to his pure delight, he discovered tiny bits of a strawberry Pop-Tart.

As he gobbled the sweet pastry, Marvin felt considerably less inconvenienced by a day spent alone in Christina’s office. With a full belly, he returned to the tabletop to look at the drawing again. The lines were delicate but unwavering. And how striking Justice was, with her sad face and her heavy sword. He wanted to draw this picture more than the one with the lion. He couldn’t wait until James brought the ink.

Finally, hours later, Marvin heard keys in the lock. He concealed himself in the book’s binding again, just as Christina came into the room, followed by James and then Karl, who stopped in the doorway. Christina was dressed as impeccably as the day before, in a crisp silk blouse and navy trousers, with her hair pulled smoothly away from her face and held in a tortoiseshell clasp. James, wide-eyed and nervous, shot quick glances in every direction, scanning the floor, the walls, the table.
He’s looking for me
, Marvin thought happily.

“I’m so grateful you were able to come, James,” Christina was saying, resting her hand on James’s shoulder. “I know it must be difficult on a school day.” She turned to Karl. “And you, too, Mr. Terik. I do realize it’s an inconvenience for you.”

“Well,” Karl said, “James wanted to, so . . .” He shrugged and leaned awkwardly against the door frame.

Christina looked at James again. “Do you think you can work here at the table? If I clear off a space for
you?” She scooted the stacks of paper aside, leaving a wide swath of polished tabletop, with the large volume of Dürer drawings in its center.

“Let’s find
Fortitude
,” she said, flipping the pages. Marvin flinched and burrowed deeper into the binding as the pages fluttered above him. “I see you brought your ink set. Do you need paper? Anything else?”

James looked at the floor. “Just paper. But . . . I . . .” He stopped.

Christina crouched near him. “What is it?”

Marvin heard James scuff one sneaker against the floor. “I . . . I don’t know if I can,” he said in a small voice. “I don’t know if I can draw it here.”

Christina nodded. “I completely understand. The artistic process is so . . . so
specific
for each person. For the great masters, it was too.” She smiled encouragingly.

Karl was watching James. “It’s a lot of pressure for a little guy,” he said quietly.

Christina paused. “I don’t mean it to be. Really, James, don’t worry if it doesn’t work. I’m sure there were times it didn’t work for Dürer either.”

Marvin saw Karl frown, and Christina reached out her hand quickly, resting it on his arm. He drew back in surprise, but she persisted. “Mr. Terik,” she said, “I feel like you and I have gotten off to a bad start somehow. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Please? To make up for your trouble coming all the way here again? It will give James a little peace while he works.”

She smiled up at Karl, whose own face softened a little. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “How long do you want, James? An hour? Hour and a half?”

James continued to scan the room, biting his lip. “Yeah. It could take me a while.”

“Here’s the paper,” Christina said, setting a clean sheaf of heavy drawing paper on the table. “And here’s
Fortitude
.” She traced her fingers over the girl wrestling the lion. “Just give it a try, James, okay?”

“Okay,” James said, his cheeks pink.

They left, and as soon as the door clicked shut,
James dropped to his knees, disappearing from Marvin’s sight. Marvin could hear him whispering as he crawled around the floor. “Where are you? Where ARE you? Oh, please, please be okay!”

Marvin crawled out of the book’s binding and scurried to the edge of the table. James continued to scramble across the floor, looking under the desk, peering into the rust-flaked grooves of the radiator. Marvin waited until he had dejectedly heaved to his feet and was staring around the room, then ran to the edge of the table, hoping that the flash of movement would attract the boy’s attention.

“Hey!” James cried. “HEY! You’re here!”

He collapsed in a chair and rested his chin on the table, inches from Marvin, his face split by a wide grin. He plunked his finger down. Marvin promptly crawled on top of it and held tight as James lifted him.

He had never seen James look so happy and relieved.
That’s because James was worried about me
, he realized.
That’s because we’re friends
.