I was unusually tired that day for some reason, so I went straight home . . . well, actually I made a brief detour to Wal-Mart to pick up some grape juice. Then I went home.
I plugged in my cell phone to charge, and briefly Googled David Charles. His Wikipedia page didn’t have a picture, it just listed some facts about his life and a list of the books he’d written and the awards they’d won. I saw that he’d once written a novel for adults, but it hadn’t sold as well as his children’s books. And from what I could see of the past ten years, he’d stuck to children’s books.
I was starting to feel a little intimidated.
I put my laptop away, and ate a bowl of cereal while reading the newspaper comics. Halfway through the comics page and my cereal, I heard the front door open.
“Hello,” I shouted.
“Hi, sweetie,” my dad shouted back. The door shut, and moments later, he walked in the kitchen. “What are you doing home?”
“I might ask the same.”
He shrugged. “I took off early. What about you?”
“I’m tired.”
“Hey, maybe you’ll finally get some sleep. No more coffee for you, okay?”
“You’re not funny.”
He washed his hands and rummaged in the refrigerator. “How was school?”
“My graphic arts project got an A.”
“Wonderful.” He emerged with a tomato and began to eat it like most people eat apples.
“I also got a job interview.”
“A job interview?” He blinked in disbelief, or maybe it was merely confusion. “I didn’t know you were looking for a job.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m confused.”
“My advanced drawing teacher set me up with a friend of hers, David Charles—”
“The guy who writes kids’ books?”
“Yeah.” I paused, surprised. “You know him?”
“Well, I know of him, let’s put it that way.”
“Oh.” I swirled my spoon around in my half-empty cereal bowl. “Well, apparently, he’s looking for a new illustrator.”
My dad’s eyes widened.
“And so India told me to call him and I did and now he wants to interview me.”
“Who’s India?”
“My teacher.”
“Oh.” There was silence as my dad finished the last few bites of his tomato.
Labels: january brings few faces
