The Gypsy Game Read Online Free Page A

a table covered with dirty dishes not far from a greasy-looking gas stove with a gaping, doorless oven. Just beyond the kitchen area they finally came to a stop beside a tall, extremely hairy man dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and incredibly dirty overalls. The man had a paintbrush in one hand and a pallette covered with blobs of paint in the other, and behind him on the wall was a very strange painting of animals that seemed to be half human. Or perhaps humans that were half animal.
    “Hi, Dad,” Toby said. “These are the guys I told you about. The ones who have the other keys to the Professor’s backyard. You know, besides Ken and me.”
    “Aha,” the hairy man said. “I see. I—see.” But he didn’t see, at least not right away, because for the longest time he went on staring at the painting before he looked or even moved. And when he finally did turn around, he very slowly put down his palette and brush, pulled up a chair, and sat down and stared.
    It was a weird feeling, coming into someone’s home, ifyou could call an enormous attic junkyard a home, and having them just sit down and stare at you. Melanie glanced around to see how the others were taking it. Elizabeth looked as though she was about to make a run for it. Melanie put her free arm, the one that wasn’t wrapped around Marshall, across Elizabeth’s shoulders. And April? April was wearing the deadpan she used around most adults, so for once Melanie couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
    “These dudes came to ask you something,” Toby was saying. “I told them that we were Gypsies, but they won’t believe me. So could you just tell …”
    Just then his father got up, came over to where they were all standing, took Marshall by the shoulders, and pulled him away from the others. Melanie grabbed for Marshall’s hand, missed, started to say something, and stuttered to a stop. Mr. Alvillar was leading Marshall over to stand near the huge picture that was painted on the wall. Putting his hand under Marshall’s chin, he turned his face toward the light and pulled Security around so that his fuzzy pear-shaped head was hanging down in front. “There,” he said. “Perfect. Don’t move a muscle.” To Melanie’s amazement Marshall did as he was told. Standing very still, Marshall lifted his chin so that the light from the glass ceiling spilled down across his face, turning his skin to dark-brown velvet and making small circular shadows under his long black eyelashes.
    Mr. Alvillar picked up a pencil and a small notebook and began to draw, glancing up at Marshall now and then. “Beautiful,” he said once or twice. “Perfectly beautiful.”
    April stepped forward determinedly. “Mr. Alvillar—”she started, but before she could say any more, Toby moved between her and his father. Shaking his head, Toby put his finger to his lips.
    “Just a minute,” Toby whispered. “It won’t take him long.”
    He was right. After two or three minutes Mr. Alvillar put the notebook down, went over to where Marshall was standing, and put out his hand. Marshall shook hands solemnly and then turned to look behind him at the mural of animal-humans and human-animals. He studied it carefully before he asked, “Am I going to be in that picture?”
    “Would you like to be?” Mr. Alvillar asked.
    Marshall nodded thoughtfully. “Can I be an octopus? Or else a bear. Can I be a bear?”
    Mr. Alvillar didn’t laugh or even smile. Glancing from Marshall to the wall, he nodded slowly. “Yes. A bear. A strong bear, I should think.” Then he picked up his brush and palette and went back to staring at the wall.
    “Dad,” Toby said, and then more loudly, “Dad! Could you tell these guys something? Could you tell them about how we’re both natural-born Gypsies? Okay? I already told them, but they didn’t believe me.”
    Toby’s dad waved briefly as if he were brushing away a fly and went on staring at the painted wall.
    The whole thing—the mysterious attic