Page 326 - The Grotesque Children's Book

hallway’s empty, they’ll look up to find the source of the noise. But...maybe they can’t see me
from down there. If I stay laying completely flat...they’d have to get all the way to the end of the
hallway before they could see there’s a person on top of a scaffold. Come to think of it, where’s
Tozzo? Where’s Aurelio and Allori? They’d be on their scaffolds, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t
the whisperers assume the creaking had come from one of their scaffolds? Or....I’m panicking!
Calm down, Santi. Good, I’m calm. I’m thinking clearly. No, I’m over-thinking. But over-
thinking clearly. The whisperers won’t care about the sounds from other scaffolds further away;
they heard mine. They’ll know I’m here. So...better to get caught in the act of painting, and
feign surprise. No, wait. Better to...yes, better to...

Santi stuck his brush up, pretending to dab it along the ceiling. The paint’s dried! Better
to dip and get more. No, better to --

“You. You there.” It was the voice of one of the whisperers, speaking to him. “We were
just discussing when’s the opening of the galleries? Things are looking so fancy up there!”

Santi froze. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He just kept
dabbing with his brush, not daring to look down.

“Hey. Painter. I’m talking to you. When’s the opening?”

Santi kept dabbing, now unable to recall any of his other possible stratagems.

The whisperer grabbed hold of Santi’s scaffold and gave it a little shake. “Painter! I’m
talking to you.”

Santi sat up. Caught! He looked around, but couldn’t of course see the whisperer
directly below him. He swallowed hard...and peered over the edge.

A swarthy fellow. Dark. Southern Italian skin, with a thick forest of a beard. They
locked eyes.

“I’m asking when’s the opening. What’s the matter? Can’t hear me?”

A second whisperer came out of the room. Also a Southern Italian, but trimmer, tidier,
with a pair of tiny spectacles on his face. Santi had never seen either of these men before.

The second whisperer said, “We’re fine. That’s the deaf one. He didn’t hear anything.”

They think I’m Aurelio! They think I can’t hear them. Santi made some gestures he’d
seen Aurelio make. Apologetic, shrugging, pointing to his ears. The first whisperer narrowed
his eyes to slips, not quite trusting the second. He’s going to test me, thought Santi. He’s going
to try to startle me. Don’t blink, don’t startle, Santi. Your life depends on it.

Sure enough, the first whisperer made a sudden barking sound. Graaaa! Santi, having
been braced for it, didn’t flinch. In return, he just pursed his lips and made another gesture of
apology, accompanied by a vague guttural wa-a-a-a kind of sound.

The second whisperer with the spectacles said, “Come on Pulveri, he didn’t hear
anything. Let’s go. I’m hungry.” He walked down the hallway. The swarthy bearded one

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