William Meets the Stick Family by Karen Voss Peters

Author:Karen Voss Peters [Peters, Karen Voss]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-927403-44-0
Publisher: Iguana Books
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

William returned to the museum door and pushed it open. He stepped into a small square vestibule that had an orange tiled floor and yellow walls. In the corner was a small table with a dried-flower arrangement that had faded from the sun. Along one side was a roped area where a sign stood giving details of the entry fee and viewing times for the exhibits. On either side of the vestibule were two tiny cloakrooms. William walked though the vestibule and stood in the middle of the hall. On his right was an arched doorway labelled “Art Gallery” and a similar doorway on his left that read “Museum.” William entered the gallery to look for the Triponie painting. The gallery was a large empty room with light walls and a hardwood floor with two leather benches in the middle. There were ten paintings in the gallery and pinned beside each painting was a card which described the painting. Each painting was illuminated by a small light fastened above it.

It was easy to pick out the Triponie painting because it was the only painting with yellow flowers. William studied the painting. It was exactly as the title promised, a dusty, pebbled road, some trees in the background and in the foreground a cluster of yellow flowers. It was a nice enough painting, but the frame was totally ugly. It was about three inches wide all around and painted a mustard colour. There were big gouges in the wood like someone had hacked at it with a chisel and when William looked closer, he could see bits of wood shavings mixed in with the paint.

“I see you’ve got your eye on the Triponie.”

William turned around to see Lance Grayson come into the gallery. He was a short, average-looking man with thinning hair, a long, thin nose and pinched-looking mouth. He looked like an older version of the twins. He smiled at William rubbing his hands together like one of those salesmen you saw in television commercials. He cleared his throat anxious to test his story. “Hello Mr. Grayson? I’m here because I’m entering a writing contest and I wanted to write about the gallery, and interview you too if that’s okay.”

Grayson beamed at William. “You want to write about the gallery? And me? Of course it’s okay. It’ll be wonderful publicity for the place, if you should win.”

“Win?” squeaked William. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Have some confidence boy,” said Grayson, steering William towards the first painting near the door, “of course you’ll win, especially if I help you write the essay.” He put his arm around William in a fatherly gesture. “Now we’ll go around the room and you can copy what’s on the cards, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

William’s stomach sunk. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. They’d be here all day if Grayson was going to talk about each painting.

“Er, that’s great,” he said, squirming out from under Grayson’s arm, “but I thought I’d just take a quick look at each painting, and read the cards, of course.

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