by TJ Klune
Arthur said, “I’m sorry. He’s very protective—”
Helen held up a hand. “He’s right, Arthur. It’s a fair question.” She took a deep breath. “And I have no excuse. Perhaps I allowed my perception to become … colored. Or perhaps it was out of sight, out of mind.”
“See something, say something,” Linus muttered.
Helen frowned as she glanced at the poster on the wall. “Yes. That. It’s—unfortunate. We get trapped in our own little bubbles, and even though the world is a wide and mysterious place, our bubbles keep us safe from that. To our detriment.” She sighed. “But it’s so easy because there’s something soothing about routine. Day in and day out, it’s always the same. When we’re shaken from that, when that bubble bursts, it can be hard to understand all that we’ve missed. We might even fear it. Some of us even fight to try and get it back. I don’t know that I would fight for it, but I did exist in a bubble.” She smiled ruefully. “Thank goodness you popped it.”
“I shouldn’t have had to do that,” Linus said. “They shouldn’t have had to do that.”
“No, they shouldn’t have. And though I’m just one person, I ask for forgiveness for that. I promise that I won’t allow it to happen again.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door Norman had disappeared through. “I’ll do my best to make sure that everyone in the village understands that all of the children from the orphanage are welcome at any point. I don’t know how well that’ll go over, but I can be very loud when I need to be.” Her eyes were twinkling when she added, “I wouldn’t want to be thrown against a wall.”
Linus winced. “Marty?”
“Martin,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “Came and told me all about it. My nephew is an idiot. J-Bone fired him as soon as he regained consciousness. I would have done the same.”
“I won’t disagree with you there.” He hesitated. Then, “Do you think he’s going to be a problem?” At the very least, if word got out, he could see Extremely Upper Management wanting to get involved. Perhaps they’d even summon Lucy before them. It wasn’t unheard of. Linus wasn’t sure if he feared for Lucy or Extremely Upper Management more. Most likely the latter if he was being honest with himself.
“Oh,” she said. “Don’t worry about Martin. I’ll deal with him myself.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that would entail. “Will he listen?”
She snorted. “I oversee his trust from his parents, may they rest in peace. He’ll listen.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you do anything at all?”
She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Change comes when people want it enough, Mr. Baker. And I do. I promise you that. It may take some time, but you’ll see. Today has been a swift kick in the seat of my trousers.” She squeezed his hand and let go. “Now. What flavor would you like?”
“Cherry,” Linus said without thinking.
She laughed. “Of course you do. Two scoops, I think.” She sang a quiet song as she went to give him just that.
Linus looked up to find Arthur staring at him. “What?”
Arthur shook his head slowly. “I don’t know why you can’t see it.”
“See what?”
“You. Everything you are.”
Linus shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not much, but I try with what I have.” Then, “I—I shouldn’t have pushed. Making you all come here like I did. I should have listened to you.”
Arthur looked amused again. “I think it all worked out. Some bumps in the road, but it’s nothing we couldn’t handle. Lucy didn’t actually kill anyone, so I call that a win.”
“Two scoops of cherry,” Helen announced. “For each of you.” It was bright pink with little bits of red fruit. “On me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” Arthur started.
She waved him off. “Think nothing of it. It’s the least I can do. All I ask is that you let me come to the island to see that garden.”
“Gladly,” Arthur said. “Whenever you’d like. You can stay for lunch.”
She smiled. “Sounds perfect. Perhaps the week after next? I have an employee, but he’s on vacation this week, so it’s just me. I’m sure that you and Mr. Baker here will be consummate hosts—”
“I’m afraid it’ll just be me and the children,” Arthur said, picking up his ice cream. His voice had taken on a strange lilt. “Linus will be leaving us a week from today. Thank you for the ice cream, Helen. And for being so kind.” He turned and walked to the table.
Linus frowned. He’d never seen Arthur be so dismissive before.
“You’re leaving?” Helen asked, sounding baffled. “Why?”
Linus sighed. “It’s an assignment for DICOMY. My stay here was always going to be temporary.”
“But you’ll come back, won’t you?”
Linus looked away. “Why would I? After I make my recommendation, there’d be no need. My job will be done.”
“Your job,” she repeated. “That’s all this is to you? A job?”
“What else would it—”
She reached out and took his hand again. This time, her grip was firm. “Don’t. You can lie to yourself all you want, Mr. Baker, but don’t you try to lie to me. I won’t stand for it. You project yourself in a certain light, but even in my shop, I could see right through the facade. The way you stood up for the children only cemented that. You know what else.”
“It’s not my home,” Linus admitted quietly. “I live in the city.”
Helen scoffed. “A home isn’t always the house we live in. It’s also the people we choose to surround ourselves with. You may not live on the island, but you can’t tell me it’s not your home. Your bubble, Mr. Baker. It’s been popped. Why would you allow it to grow around you again?”
She turned and hollered for Norman, disappearing through the swinging door, leaving Linus staring after her. His ice cream was beginning to melt.
* * *
The man in the post office barely acknowledged his presence. He only grunted while Linus paid to have the report mailed off.
“Anything for me?” Linus asked, tired of this display.
The man glared at him before turning and digging through a plastic box, riffling through envelopes. He pulled out a large one this time. It was much thicker than any other mail Linus had received while on the island. He frowned when the man handed it over.
It was from DICOMY.
“Thank you,” Linus said, distracted. The envelope was heavy and stiff when he picked it up. He left the post office.
He was in the bright sunshine. He took a deep breath. The others were back at the van waiting for him. He shouldn’t open it now, but … he had to know what was inside.
He tore the top of the envelope carefully.
There was a file inside, much like the ones he’d been given when he’d been sent to the island. The file didn’t have a name on the tab. It was blank.
The first page was a cover letter.
He pulled it out, and blinked when something fell onto the sidewalk, bouncing onto his loafer.
He looked down.
It was an old metal key.
He bent down and picked it up. It was lighter than he expected.
The cover letter said:
DEPARTMENT IN CHARGE OF MAGICAL YOUTH MEMO FROM EXTREMELY UPPER MANGEMENT
* * *
Mr. Baker:
Thank you for your second report. It was thorough, as always, and quite enlightening. The descriptions of the daily lives of the children gave us plenty to consider.
However.
We do have some concerns.
As you’ll recall, we asked previously for a more in-depth look at Arthur Parnassus. And while you did provide that to us, we couldn’t help but notice that it appeared to be less … objective than we expected. In fact, the entire report is unlike any other you’ve written. You were chosen for this assignment, in part, because of your impartiality. You were able, even in the face of adversity, to maintain a degree of separa
tion from the children and people you were investigating.
That doesn’t seem to be the case here.
We would caution you against this, Mr. Baker. People will say and do anything they can in order to appease those in power. It’s a weapon, and one that is wielded quite deftly. Those who aren’t immune to such things might find themselves thinking in ways they shouldn’t. Your time on Marsyas will end shortly. You will return to the city. You will be given another assignment, and this will occur all over again. Shield your heart, Mr. Baker, because that is what they go for first. You cannot allow yourself to lose sight of what is real here. You must remain objective. As we’re sure you’re aware, the RULES AND REGULATIONS dictate that any and all relationships formed must remain completely professional. You cannot be seen as being compromised, especially if there is evidence that an orphanage needs to be closed in order to protect the children.
We can, admittedly, say that we may have underestimated how susceptible you might have been to such attentions from someone like Mr. Parnassus. Seeing as how you’re unmarried, we can understand how you might be feeling confused or conflicted. To that end, we want to remind you that DICOMY and Extremely Upper Management are here for you. We care about you. Upon your return from the island, we’ll require you to attend a psychological evaluation. For your own peace of mind, of course. The well-being of our caseworkers is of the utmost importance. You are the lifeblood of DICOMY, and without you, there would be no us. There would be no hope for the children. You matter, Mr. Baker.
To assist you in making sure your thoughts are in order and in an effort to be fully transparent, we have enclosed a semi-complete file on Arthur Parnassus. He is, as you’ll soon see, not who you think he is. The Marsyas Orphanage is an experiment of sorts. To see if someone of his … demeanor could be in charge of a group of unusual children. To keep them all in one place in order to protect our way of life. The island is well-known to him, seeing as how he grew up there in an orphanage that was once closed down because of him. This report is for your eyes only. It is not to be discussed with anyone else, including Mr. Parnassus. Consider it classified level four.
In addition, you will find enclosed a key. If the locks haven’t been changed, this should open the cellar door hidden in the garden. It will give you insight as to what Arthur Parnassus is truly capable of.
Soon, Mr. Baker. You will be coming home soon.
We look forward to your next report and your final debrief upon your return.
Sincerely,
CHARLES WERNER
EXTREMELY UPPER MANAGEMENT
FIFTEEN
Though the curiosity was begging to kill the cat, Linus ignored it.
He ignored it as he walked back to the van.
He ignored it as he climbed inside.
He ignored it as Arthur smiled at him, asking him if he was ready to go home.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “I’m ready.”
The children were high on sugar and the day’s outing, and babbled most of the way to the ferry. Merle scowled at them when he opened the gate, but they ignored him. By the time they were halfway across the channel to the island, the children were asleep, with the exception of Sal. Theodore was curled in his lap, wing over his head to block out the sunlight.
“Did you have a good time?” Linus heard Zoe ask him.
“I think I did,” Sal replied. “Mr. Baker helped me. He told me I can be scared, but to remember there’s more to me than that.” He sighed. “People can be rude, and they can think dumb things about me, but I have all of you, and that’s what’s most important. Right, Mr. Baker?”
Linus thought it was far too late to shield his heart.
* * *
The children blinked slowly as they woke when Arthur switched off the van in front of the house. Lucy yawned and stretched, accidentally hitting Talia in the face with his elbow. She shoved his arm away. “Sorry,” he said.
“Perhaps we’ll have dinner a little earlier tonight,” Arthur announced. “I don’t think some of us will last much longer after. Let’s go inside, and take your things. Make sure they’re put away safely. Talia, you may go to the gazebo if that’s where you’d like to store your new tools.”
She shook her head as Zoe slid the van door open. “I’m going to keep them with me tonight. It’s a Gnomish thing. The tools must be in my bed the first night so they know they’ll belong to me.”
Arthur flashed a smile. “Funny, I’ve never heard that before.”
“Very ancient gnomish tradition. Very secretive. You’re lucky I’m even telling you about it.”
“Is that right? I’ll remember that from this point on.” And with that, he opened his door and exited the van.
It took Linus a moment to realize he was the only one left. He startled when his door was jerked open. He looked out to find Zoe watching him. “Coming?”
He nodded, gripping the folder in his hands. He noticed she glanced down at it, and her brow furrowed slightly.
He got out of the van.
She closed the door behind him. “You were awfully quiet on the ride home.”
“Long day,” he said.
“Is that all?”
He nodded. “Not as young as I used to be.”
“No,” she said slowly. “I don’t suppose you are. Coming inside?”
He smiled weakly. “I should check on Calliope. Make sure she’s fed and watered. Give me a bit of peace and quiet before dinner.”
“Of course. I’ll send one of the children to fetch you when it’s time to eat.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. “You did well today, Linus. I don’t know that we could have done this without you. Thank you.”
For the first time since he arrived on the island, he wondered if he was being used.
It hurt more than he expected.
He smiled. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
She watched him for a moment. Then, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Just tired,” he said. “All that sunlight. I’m used to only rain.”
She looked as if she were going to say something more, but Phee called out to her, telling her it was her night to help with dinner, and she had some ideas.
Zoe left him standing by the van.
He watched them disappear in the house.
Arthur was the last. He looked back over his shoulder. “See you soon?”
Linus could only nod.
* * *
He paced in front of the bed, glancing every now and then at the file he’d placed there.
“It’s nothing, right?” he asked Calliope, who watched him from her perch on the windowsill. “Absolute rubbish, most likely. Why wouldn’t they have given me this information before, if it were so necessary? And they accused me of losing objectivity. Me, of all people! I’ve never heard of such a ridiculous notion. The nerve of those people, sitting all high and mighty.”
Calliope meowed at him.
“I know!” he exclaimed. “It’s preposterous. And even if it wasn’t, I can still appreciate the qualities of the people here. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Calliope’s tail twitched.
“Precisely! And obviously Arthur has secrets. Everyone does! I have secrets.” He stopped pacing and frowned. “Well, that’s probably not true. Just because I haven’t said something doesn’t make it a secret. But I could have one! And it would be the most secret!”
Calliope yawned.
“You’re right,” Linus decided. “Why does it matter at all? It’s probably nothing. A scare tactic. And even if it’s not, it won’t change anything. I don’t have any untoward feelings about anyone, and in a week, we’ll leave this place, and in time, we’ll think back fondly about our stay here, and nothing more. We certainly won’t regret not saying anything to anyone about feelings that don’t exist!”
Calliope put her head on her paws and closed her eyes.
She had a good idea. Maybe Linus should sleep on it. A
nap, perhaps. Or even ignore it until tomorrow. He hadn’t lied when he’d said it’d been a long day. He was tired. Many things had happened, and while not all of them had been good, it certainly hadn’t been a disaster that ended up with Lucy causing someone to explode or Talia braining another person with her new spade.
“Yes,” he said to himself. “A shower and then a nap. I might not even wake up until tomorrow. I can certainly miss a meal, especially after having cherry ice cream.” He paused, considering. “Which I didn’t even like!”
That was a lie. It’d been delicious. It’d tasted like childhood.
He turned to walk toward the bathroom.
Instead, his feet led him to the edge of the bed.
He looked down at the file. The key sat next to it.
He told himself to leave it alone.
That if there was anything to know, he could just ask.
He remembered the flash in Arthur’s eyes.
The way his skin had felt so hot.
He remembered the way Arthur smiled, the way he laughed, the way he existed here on this island as if he had everything in the world he could ever want. It pulled at him, and he thought of how his world had been cold and wet and gray until he’d come here. It felt like he was seeing in color for the first time.
“Don’t you wish you were here?” he whispered.
Oh yes. He thought he might wish that more than anything.
He had to stop it. Because he didn’t think he could take it if it all turned out to be a lie.
He opened the file. It began just as the previous one had.
NAME: ARTHUR PARNASSUS
AGE: FORTY-FIVE YEARS OLD
HAIR: BLOND
EYE COLOR: DARK BROWN
This was the same as the first file. The rest had been an outline of Arthur Parnassus, giving a vague idea of who he was and how long he’d been master of the Marsyas Orphanage.
This file, however, continued as the others had.