It was a head-spinning summer for Danny. First came college graduation, and the inevitable question of how he’d find his purpose on the endless path ahead. Then eight glorious weeks as a camp counselor, concocting ever more ridiculous activities for second graders. Finally, his mom’s house, to face the unnerving quiet of his childhood room.
“The Fainer’s hiring,” she offered one afternoon.
“Would I have to like paintings?”
“I don’t know.”
Soon enough, Danny found himself at the Fainer Art Museum interviewing with Alexander, the head of security. Alexander cared deeply about the Fainer, even pausing their talk to send away a visitor who wouldn’t store his water bottle in a locker. A week later, after calling Danny’s camp director, three professors, and two personal references, Alexander was satisfied. “Congratulations,” he told Danny. “You’re in.”
At 10 a.m. the following Tuesday, Danny took his position in Baroque. Each of the nine rooms at the Fainer had its own gallery guard, and everyone rotated hourly — except James, who stayed put in Realism to watch over his grandfather’s paintings.
Danny daydreamed a bit, then checked his watch.
10:02.
Yikes.
At 11 a.m., a guard emerged from Surrealism and motioned for Danny to make his way to Renaissance.
“Knock, knock,” Danny blurted out in desperation. But the guard returned only a puzzled look, so Danny moved on.
At the noon rotation, Danny slipped the guard a piece of paper.
“It’s the first line of a joke,” Danny whispered.
“What do I do?”
“Write the next line, and pass it on.”
The game was a hit, so at the next morning’s sign-in Danny took things further, distributing bingo cards to all the guards. “Find a painting to match the phrase in each square. First person to fill in all twenty-five wins for the day.”
The guards’ faces lit up, and everyone went off eagerly to their respective rooms.
As he entered Impressionism, Danny consulted his bingo card and settled on a square marked “Cheez-Its.”
He surveyed the paintings. Unsurprisingly, none included Cheez-Its.
How about cheese?
No luck.
Something orange?
Danny approached Sunset over the Arno. A circle in the sky shone like a burning tangerine, spreading orange light onto the Cheez-It-shaped windows of squat buildings by a river.
Perfect. He scribbled “Arno” in the Cheez-It square.
Danny paused to take in the painting. He had never before considered the shape of the sun, or the patterns of light it produced.
Suddenly Alexander appeared. “I know about bingo,” he said. “I’m glad you’re taking an interest, but don’t let it interfere.”
On Danny’s break, he visited James’s room. “You have something for the ‘dozens’ square?” Danny asked. A beaming James responded by presenting his grandfather’s best-known work: the enormous Generations, which depicted an extended family seated on a flat rock.
The painting was breathtaking. In his mind’s eye, Danny layered on a photo of everyone from summer camp. He could almost hear the laughter and the songs that they had shared just a few weeks before. “I can see why you don’t want to leave this room,” he said wistfully.
Over the next month, Danny created more games: Gooseberry, Nemesis, Passport, Hush, and Icicle Bicycle. Before long, the guards were playing multiple games at once and even merging them to create new ones. By Halloween, all games were timed and rankings refreshed daily.
And then it happened.
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the busiest day of the year. Danny’s daily score was just four points shy of the Fainer record, and he would earn five points if he could get a visitor to say “flat rock” by closing time.
He had two minutes.
Danny left his post and raced into James’s room, where two double strollers forced Danny to attempt a basketball pivot. Losing his balance, Danny tumbled backward toward Generations.
“No!” James shrieked. “No!” Families scrambled for the exit, and in a flash everyone was gone.
Alexander called an emergency meeting of the guards.
“You abandoned your room,” he told Danny. “You ran through the gallery. You nearly damaged a piece. You frightened the visitors.”
“I’m really, really sorry.”
“How can I keep you here?”
“Haven’t the games been good?” Danny pleaded. “Overall?”
The guards, every one of them, defended Danny. Some rattled off the art history they had learned from playing the games; others shared how much they had come to care about the paintings. A few singled out Generations, filling James with a deep joy.
Alexander softened a bit.
“Please,” Danny tried. “I won’t do it again.”
Alexander thought for a long time.
“I’m sorry, Danny. You broke too many rules. You have to go.”
For years afterward, Danny avoided the Fainer. But when he began his job teaching second grade, he felt a curious drive to show his students the museum. So on the Tuesday morning after Thanksgiving, Danny brought in his class.
Alexander was still there. The two men exchanged an awkward nod; then Alexander advanced toward Danny. “You need to see something.”
Alexander shepherded Danny and his students into a room off the lobby. Above the doorway was a permanent sign that read “Gallery Games.”
Danny was stunned.
Alexander handed out pieces of paper to the class. He saved the last one for Danny, and released a small smile.
Danny looked down at the paper. There were twenty-five squares.
Bingo.
“The Fainer’s hiring,” she offered one afternoon.
“Would I have to like paintings?”
“I don’t know.”
Soon enough, Danny found himself at the Fainer Art Museum interviewing with Alexander, the head of security. Alexander cared deeply about the Fainer, even pausing their talk to send away a visitor who wouldn’t store his water bottle in a locker. A week later, after calling Danny’s camp director, three professors, and two personal references, Alexander was satisfied. “Congratulations,” he told Danny. “You’re in.”
At 10 a.m. the following Tuesday, Danny took his position in Baroque. Each of the nine rooms at the Fainer had its own gallery guard, and everyone rotated hourly — except James, who stayed put in Realism to watch over his grandfather’s paintings.
Danny daydreamed a bit, then checked his watch.
10:02.
Yikes.
At 11 a.m., a guard emerged from Surrealism and motioned for Danny to make his way to Renaissance.
“Knock, knock,” Danny blurted out in desperation. But the guard returned only a puzzled look, so Danny moved on.
At the noon rotation, Danny slipped the guard a piece of paper.
“It’s the first line of a joke,” Danny whispered.
“What do I do?”
“Write the next line, and pass it on.”
The game was a hit, so at the next morning’s sign-in Danny took things further, distributing bingo cards to all the guards. “Find a painting to match the phrase in each square. First person to fill in all twenty-five wins for the day.”
The guards’ faces lit up, and everyone went off eagerly to their respective rooms.
As he entered Impressionism, Danny consulted his bingo card and settled on a square marked “Cheez-Its.”
He surveyed the paintings. Unsurprisingly, none included Cheez-Its.
How about cheese?
No luck.
Something orange?
Danny approached Sunset over the Arno. A circle in the sky shone like a burning tangerine, spreading orange light onto the Cheez-It-shaped windows of squat buildings by a river.
Perfect. He scribbled “Arno” in the Cheez-It square.
Danny paused to take in the painting. He had never before considered the shape of the sun, or the patterns of light it produced.
Suddenly Alexander appeared. “I know about bingo,” he said. “I’m glad you’re taking an interest, but don’t let it interfere.”
On Danny’s break, he visited James’s room. “You have something for the ‘dozens’ square?” Danny asked. A beaming James responded by presenting his grandfather’s best-known work: the enormous Generations, which depicted an extended family seated on a flat rock.
The painting was breathtaking. In his mind’s eye, Danny layered on a photo of everyone from summer camp. He could almost hear the laughter and the songs that they had shared just a few weeks before. “I can see why you don’t want to leave this room,” he said wistfully.
Over the next month, Danny created more games: Gooseberry, Nemesis, Passport, Hush, and Icicle Bicycle. Before long, the guards were playing multiple games at once and even merging them to create new ones. By Halloween, all games were timed and rankings refreshed daily.
And then it happened.
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the busiest day of the year. Danny’s daily score was just four points shy of the Fainer record, and he would earn five points if he could get a visitor to say “flat rock” by closing time.
He had two minutes.
Danny left his post and raced into James’s room, where two double strollers forced Danny to attempt a basketball pivot. Losing his balance, Danny tumbled backward toward Generations.
“No!” James shrieked. “No!” Families scrambled for the exit, and in a flash everyone was gone.
Alexander called an emergency meeting of the guards.
“You abandoned your room,” he told Danny. “You ran through the gallery. You nearly damaged a piece. You frightened the visitors.”
“I’m really, really sorry.”
“How can I keep you here?”
“Haven’t the games been good?” Danny pleaded. “Overall?”
The guards, every one of them, defended Danny. Some rattled off the art history they had learned from playing the games; others shared how much they had come to care about the paintings. A few singled out Generations, filling James with a deep joy.
Alexander softened a bit.
“Please,” Danny tried. “I won’t do it again.”
Alexander thought for a long time.
“I’m sorry, Danny. You broke too many rules. You have to go.”
For years afterward, Danny avoided the Fainer. But when he began his job teaching second grade, he felt a curious drive to show his students the museum. So on the Tuesday morning after Thanksgiving, Danny brought in his class.
Alexander was still there. The two men exchanged an awkward nod; then Alexander advanced toward Danny. “You need to see something.”
Alexander shepherded Danny and his students into a room off the lobby. Above the doorway was a permanent sign that read “Gallery Games.”
Danny was stunned.
Alexander handed out pieces of paper to the class. He saved the last one for Danny, and released a small smile.
Danny looked down at the paper. There were twenty-five squares.
Bingo.