Sketches by Eric Walters

Author:Eric Walters
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PENGUIN GROUP (CANADA)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“SO, COME ON, TELL US WHAT YOU HAVE IN MIND,” Brent said.

“I told you. I think I know a way we can make some money,” I answered.

“Yeah, but how? Are we going to panhandle or squeegee or rip somebody off or—?”

“Get real, Brent. Can you see Dana ripping somebody off?” Ashley asked.

“I guess not . . . so . . .?”

I smiled. “I’m not telling you. But I will show you.”

I didn’t know which part I was enjoying most—the fact that we were going to be making money doing art, the fact that I was going to prove to them that Sketches wasn’t a waste of time, or the fact that I was finally doing something for them to pay back all that they had done for me.

We walked through the square between the big office towers till I found a good location. Then I took my backpack off my shoulder and set it down on the pavement. “This is the perfect spot.”

“This?” Ashley asked.

I nodded.

“And just what makes this particular spot so perfect?” Brent wanted to know.

“For one thing, look how smooth and even the pavement is. And check out all the buildings around here,” I said, pointing to the four tall, black office buildings that both surrounded and towered over us. “It’s ten o’clock. In about two hours these buildings are going to empty out as thousands and thousands of people go out for lunch.”

“So we are going to panhandle,” Brent said.

“No panhandling. No lying. No begging.”

I bent down and unzipped my backpack. I opened it up and pulled out a book and handed it to Brent.

“We’re going to sell them a book?” he asked.

“Of course not. It’s not even my book. I borrowed it from Sketches.”

“It’s a big book . . . a heavy book. Are we going to hit them with the book if they don’t give us money?” he joked.

“I was hoping to hit them with what’s in the book.”

Brent turned it over. “It’s like some kind of art book.” He started flipping through it.

I reached deeper into my bag and pulled out a little whisk broom, a tape measure, a straight edge, and a package of pastels—all of which I’d borrowed from Sketches.

“I know,” Ashley said. “You’re going to do a copy of one of those paintings on the pavement, right?”

I took the book back from Brent and opened it to the right page. “This painting.” I pointed to Starry Night by Van Gogh. It had worked before, so I thought it would work again.

“I think I know that one,” Brent said.

“You should. It’s one of the most famous paintings in the entire world.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Okay? Do you know how valuable this painting is?” I asked.

“How valuable?”

“Like, tens of millions of dollars of valuable.”

“Wow. Maybe I should have paid more attention in art class,” he said.

“Maybe you should have paid more attention in all of your classes,” Ashley joked.

“I guess the more important question is: how much is it worth to us?” Brent said.

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