The One and Only Ivan

bad guys

Most of the day I doze. Late in the afternoon, Mack approaches.

Bob slips under Not-Tag. He prefers to keep a low profile around Mack.

Mack’s gaze falls on my pool. A corner of one of my paintings is visible. “What’s that, big guy?” he asks.

I calmly eat an orange, ignoring him, but my heart is racing.

Mack kicks at my plastic pool. Underneath it are all the paintings.

Mack yanks on a piece of paper. It slips out easily, and he doesn’t seem to notice the other paintings.

The page is striped with green, which is what happens when blue paint and yellow paint get together. It’s supposed to be a patch of grass.

“Not bad. Where’d you get the paint, anyway? George’s kid?” He considers. “Hmm. I’ll bet I can get thirty for this picture, maybe even forty.”

Mack turns on my TV. It’s a Western. There’s a human with a big hat and a small gun. He has a shiny star pinned to his chest. That means he is the sheriff and he will be getting rid of all the bad guys.

“If this sells quick, I’m getting you some more of that paint, buddy,” Mack says.

He walks away with my painting. Ruby’s painting. For a moment, I imagine what it would feel like to be the sheriff.