“What were the choices again?”
“Cranberry, orange, milk—”
“Cranberry, please.”
He poured her a glass of juice and held it out, his arm fully extended. She took the glass and had a long sip, watching him with narrowed eyes. Ethan walked to the TV room, where Sarah was standing right in front of the screen, watching two bad mice rip apart a doll’s house.
“Those naughty mice!” she said, pointing, her mouth wide with feigned horror. There was nothing Sarah loved better than getting angry at animals. “Ethan, be angry with them!”
“You naughty mice!” Ethan shouted at the TV.
Vika giggled. “She’s super cute.”
Ethan sat down on the sofa.
“What’s her name?” Sarah asked him, pointing at Vika.
Sarah had met Vika many times before, but she liked to be reminded of people’s names.
“Vika,” Ethan said.
“Eeka,” Sarah said, walking over and taking her hand. “Be angry at the mice!”
“They’re terrible mice!” said Vika.
Rickman, looking for love, wandered into the room and somehow managed to heave himself up onto the television console. He flopped down in front of the screen, purring and offering himself to be stroked.
“Icklan! Off!” said Sarah, and pushed the cat.
Rickman landed on the carpet with as much dignity as his aged limbs allowed. With a flick of his tail, he left the room.
“Why doesn’t she like the cat?” Vika asked Ethan.
Ethan shrugged.
“Icklan scratched Sarah,” Sarah told Vika.
This was news to Ethan. “Really?”
Sarah rolled up her sleeve and showed Vika. There was no mark there.
“Hmm,” she said. “Must’ve been a long time ago.”
Ethan wondered if this was truth or story. Either way, he was annoyed she’d told Vika instead of him. Not even Sarah recognized that Vika was evil. For the next five minutes, Vika and Sarah talked about the TV show. Then Sarah introduced her to all her favorite toy dogs.
“Where’s your washroom?” Vika asked.
“Just turn right,” Ethan said.
After she left, Ethan walked down the hallway so he could listen, out of sight, to his father and Karl in the living room. He heard the sound of wine being poured.
“. . . sales of Kren are really slowing down, but I know they’d come roaring back if we had a new title in the series.”
“What can I tell you, Karl. It’s just not in the works.”
“Okay, that’s cool. But you really need to get something out there. You’re two years over deadline.”
“I know, I know.”
“The money from Kren isn’t going to last forever,” Karl said, then added more quietly, “and you’ve got your kids to think about.”
Ethan’s heart counted down the beats to his father’s terse reply:
“We’re fine.”
“Hey, there’s something I wanted to show you,” Karl said. “Maybe you’ve already seen it.”
Ethan leaned out around the corner to see Karl handing a comic to Dad.
“Exterminatrix,” Dad said, looking at the cover. “This one of yours?”
“I wish. This thing is selling in the millions. People are nuts about it. It’s definitely not for kids.”
“So I see,” Dad said, riffling through the pages. Ethan could tell he didn’t like what he was seeing, just by the shape of his mouth. “Wow, this is super violent stuff. It’s all exploding heads. Plus, the artwork’s ugly.”
“I know. It’s trash,” said Karl. “But you could do something like this in your sleep. We both know that.”
“Not my kind of thing.”
“Unfortunately, it’s the kind of thing people a lot of people want right now.”
Dad handed it back to Karl. “I think you’ll like what I’m working on. I’m very close.”
Another total lie, Ethan thought.
“Well, that is good news. Any idea when you’ll be finished?”
“Nine months, tops.”
“Can you make it four?”
Ethan gulped.
“With a bit of luck, sure,” Dad said.
“Okay, well, cheers to that,” said Karl. They lifted their glasses and clinked. “Can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it’s going to be every bit as successful as Kren.”
Ethan felt his heart tumble inside his chest. He retreated to the TV room and sat down beside Sarah, who automatically threw a soft arm around his shoulder—like she knew exactly what he needed.
Dad hadn’t started anything. He didn’t even have an idea. And all that stuff Karl had said about sales of Kren slowing down. Did that mean they were running out of money, too? What would happen then?
“Where is Eeka?” Sarah asked him suddenly.
Ethan frowned. “That,” he said, “is a very good question.”
Just one page, Inkling told himself.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. The newspaper under the bed was so dull and dry and left such a gritty afterimage. It was books he liked best—they were more nutritious and they lasted longer inside him. But . . . but color was good, too. If he could just have a little color, he’d be all right.
Stealthily, Inkling slunk out from underneath the bed and made his way to Ethan’s desk. He slipped into the comic drawer and—
Oh! The ecstasy! One page turned into two, turned into ten as Inkling inhaled the colors, the words. It was a feast of heroes and villains, machines and magic. There was shouting and punching and explosions. People jumped and flew. They crushed things. They didn’t just hide under beds.
Inkling wanted to move, too. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to be as big as his noisy thoughts.
He slid out of the drawer to the floor and climbed the wall like some mutant vine, spreading tendrils, stretching into a witchy black tree. The branches lashed about in a gale, but that wasn’t enough for Inkling, so he formed himself into a giant robot warrior, floor to ceiling, and went stomping back and forth across the wall behind Ethan’s desk—
Just as the door opened and Vika crept into the room.
Inkling froze midstride, like some enormous piece of graffiti. It was really quite magnificent: a robot bristling with weapons and antennae, taking up the whole wall and the curtains, which rustled slightly in the breeze of the door opening, so that it looked like the robot’s chest fluttered with a steel heartbeat.
Vika stared at Inkling, impressed.
“Cool,” she said to herself.
She moved straight for Ethan’s desk, where the latest spread of the graphic novel rested. A few more panels had been added since what she’d seen today at school.
She’d already been to Mr. Rylance’s studio, hoping she’d find the graphic novel on his drafting table—because then she could take a picture with her phone and have proof that Ethan’s dad was doing all his work. But there’d been nothing there, except his sketchbook, which she’d looked through a tiny bit, just because his work was so amazing and she hoped, one day, she’d be half as good as Peter Rylance.
Now here she was in Ethan’s bedroom, and there was the graphic novel on his desk, like he’d done it himself. Except that he couldn’t have. She just knew. It was way too good.
From the wall, Inkling watched Vika. There was a mean look on her face. Was she going to do something to the drawings?
Inkling was ready for action.
Slowly, he started to change shape.
Ethan burst into the room and Vika whirled guiltily to face him.
“What’re you doing?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “Just checking out your room.”
“Yeah, well, get out!”
“Fine!” She started walking.
Behind her, Ethan saw Inkling morph into a terrifying giant squid thing, lashing its tentacles and jetting around the walls toward the door. A speech bubble inflated from its jagged, beaked mouth and spelled out t
he word:
SHHHHHLUUUUUURKKK!
Desperately, Ethan shook his head, and before he could stop himself, he shouted:
“Don’t!”
Vika looked at him strangely. “Don’t what? I’m leaving, all right?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” said Ethan, his eyes still on Inkling.
Vika must have seen him staring because she turned. Inkling froze. Vika frowned at the huge squid on the wall beside her. Then she looked at the now-blank wall behind Ethan’s desk.
“There used to be a mural there,” she said, pointing.
“Hmm?” said Ethan.
“A robot thing. It was huge.”
Ethan pursed his lips. “No.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Inkling lift a tentacle, like he meant to flail out at Vika. Ethan tilted his head warningly.
Vika started to turn back to the squid thing, and at that exact moment, Inkling decided to pour himself off the wall.
“Where’d it go?” Vika cried.
“What?” said Ethan.
She walked over, touched the wall, then peered down at the floor. A small, dark puddle lapped against the baseboard.
“What is that?” Vika said, reaching out with her hand.
“Just some old paint,” Ethan answered lamely.
The moment Vika touched Inkling, he surged onto her hand, then over her shirt, faster than a cockroach. With a shriek, Vika staggered back and tripped. Inkling raced round and round her body.
“Get it off me!” she hollered.
“Get what off you?” Ethan asked as Inkling made himself very small and darted onto Vika’s back.
She jerked round, trying to look over her shoulder, but Inkling was faster, and just kept zipping out of sight.
“Is it on me?” she gasped.
“There’s nothing on you, Vika.”
He patted her on the back, and Inkling flowed onto his hand and slipped out of sight.
“There’s something weird going on,” Vika said, getting up. She looked completely shaken, but also angry. For a second Ethan worried she might tornado-kick him.
“You guys okay?” his father called out from the living room.
“Yeah, fine!” Vika called back. “I just tripped.”
Ethan expected her to go running now. But she stared hard at him.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“What’s what?”
“It’s some weird . . . robot or something. That’s what’s been drawing for you.”
Ethan let out a big breath. “I have a confession to make.”
“About time!”
“They’re aliens.”
She shoved past him. “Very funny.”
“Better tell Ms. D tiny aliens are doing my drawings,” Ethan said as she left his room.
And then he went to his bed and let Inkling slip away underneath.
Chapter 9
“I forgot the cake,” Dad said. “I’m just going to run to the bakery and get it.”
“What?” Ethan said, horrified. “You can’t leave me alone with them!”
Hurling themselves around the living room were six little kids who’d just been dropped off for Sarah’s birthday party. Four were girls from school, and the other two were from Sarah’s special-needs playgroup.
“Twenty minutes, tops,” Dad said. “I also have to get stuff for the piñata.”
“You forgot the piñata stuff, too?”
“I thought it came with stuff already inside! There’s a dollar store near the bakery—I’ll just buy a whole bunch of crap.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for this!” Ethan protested.
“I’ll be fast. It’s not a big deal—just get them interested in that.”
He pointed to the easel he’d set up. At birthday parties, Dad always drew for the kids. They’d shout out what they wanted, and he’d do it. Things got added to the drawing, and pretty soon it would turn into a kind of story as the kids asked for a dragon to eat the car, or a giant chicken to crush a building. The easel was always a big hit.
“That’s your thing,” Ethan said. “I can’t draw.”
“That’s not what Vika and her dad said.” He ruffled Ethan’s hair. “You can do it.”
And before Ethan could object, he slipped out the front door.
Paralyzed, Ethan stared at the little kids and thought, This is going to be a disaster.
Sarah’s birthday had already gotten off to a rocky start that morning when they’d given her her presents. Dad had saved the robotic dog for last. Ethan helped her unwrap it, and when she saw the picture on the box, she shouted excitedly, “Lucy!”
They unpacked the dog and switched it on. It was a pretty amazing toy, Ethan thought. The hair felt like real hair, and the way the eyes opened and closed was very lifelike. You could even feel a heartbeat if you put your hand firmly against the dog’s chest. The dog wagged its tail. It panted. But Sarah stopped patting it within seconds.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked.
“Sarah is disappointed,” she said.
“Why?” Dad asked.
“This is not Lucy.”
Ethan looked at Dad, who rolled his eyes.
“Well, even if it’s not Lucy, she’s still a lovely dog,” Dad said, giving it an enthusiastic pat. “And it needs a name. What will you call it?”
But Sarah just asked if she could watch the new DVD Ethan had given her and retreated to the TV room.
Now, looking at Sarah running around with the other kids, Ethan took a deep breath, feeling angry at Dad. A few of the moms had offered to stay and help, but Dad had said, “No, no, everything’s fine, don’t worry about a thing!”
Mom would never have forgotten the cake. Ethan was startled by how much he missed her all of a sudden. She’d always run the parties. Dad was doing an okay job. He’d invited Sarah’s friends, and he’d bought a piñata shaped like one of her favorite TV characters. He’d bought presents. But there were also things he’d forgotten, like the balloons tied to the back of the birthday girl’s chair, and the shiny Happy Birthday banner taped above the kitchen doorway. Mom would’ve had a craft activity planned, and made sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and had a platter with vegetables.
Without Mom, the house still felt emptier, every room of it. Some mornings when Ethan woke up, he had that same terrible feeling he’d had right after she died. It made him want to curl himself up into a ball. Like if he made himself small enough, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
“Okay, guys,” he said, clapping his hands together, “who wants to draw!”
This worked. For about four minutes. Pretty soon kids were arguing over turns, fighting over the markers, or complaining someone was wrecking their picture. One of the girls was drawing all over her own face. Ethan gently pried the marker out of her hand.
“Can’t you draw for us?” said Eva, who’d been to last year’s party. She had a huge, infectious smile, but Ethan remembered that she was actually a bit of a demon.
“Yeah!” said two other kids.
They all sat down on the floor without being asked and looked up at him expectantly.
“So,” said Ethan, “what do you guys want? How about a gorilla?”
“A giraffe!”
Ethan’s heart sank. At the easel, he tried his best to do a giraffe.
One of the kids giggled. “That’s not a giraffe!”
“Do a pony!”
His pony was even worse than his giraffe. He went through a few more animals.
“You’re a bad drawer,” said Eva.
“Where’s Dada?” Sarah asked, noticing for the first time that Dad was missing. Ethan thought she looked a bit worried. He checked his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed.
“Just give me one second,” he said, and ran to his room.
He found Inkling underneath the bed.
“I need a favor,” he said, and invited Inkling to slide onto his hand.
Back in the living room, Ethan stood beside the ea
sel and said, “Guys, this is a very special easel.”
“No it’s not,” said Eva. “I’ve got the same one at home.”
“Yeah, it is special, and I’ll tell you why. Because it’s magic! Tell it what you want it to draw, and it’ll do it!”
“An eagle!” a kid shouted.
From the bottom of the easel, a beautiful golden eagle soared up to fill the paper.
Everyone gasped. The eagle flapped its wings and soared right off the edge of the easel, disappearing.
“How’d you do that?” Eva demanded.
Ethan shrugged. “Magic, like I told you.”
All at once, the kids started hollering out their requests.
The kids were so excited, and yelling so loudly, that Ethan almost didn’t hear Dad coming in the front door. Ethan stepped quickly to the easel and let Inkling slide off onto his hand.
“Thanks,” he whispered.
Dad poked his head into the room and grinned. “Told you you’d be fine.”
“You better take over,” Ethan said.
Things went pretty smoothly after that. Dad drew for another fifteen minutes or so, while Ethan filled up the piñata. He overheard bratty Eva tell his dad that he wasn’t as good as the magic easel. Afterward, he helped the kids whack the piñata until it burst open and all the treats spilled to the floor.
Dad hadn’t prepared much in the way of food, but the kids seemed happy enough with the bowls of cheese puffs and potato chips while they watched a DVD. Ethan thought this was a pretty lame birthday activity, since most of the kids had probably seen the movie already. But Sarah was also simultaneously opening her presents and didn’t mind that her guests were playing with them, too.
“It’s time for the cake now,” Ethan reminded his dad after a while. “Their parents are coming soon.”
“Right, yeah,” said Dad. “Okay, will you get them to the table?”
It took a while to herd them to the dining room and into their chairs.
“Vanilla cake with chocolate icing!” Sarah cried out with huge enthusiasm.
Ethan went to the kitchen to make sure Dad remembered to put the candles on.
Dad was standing in front of the open fridge, frowning.
“What?” Ethan asked.
“Did you take the cake out of the fridge?”
“I haven’t touched it,” Ethan said. “I haven’t even seen it.”