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“Noah,we’re going to be late for your party.” Mom stands at the entrance of my room with a scowl. She’s planned a fancy party for our ninth birthday at the Science Museum at the Seattle center.
“Give me five minutes, Mom. I’m not quite done,” I beg.
I’m sculpting something and want to keep it hidden. But Mom doesn’t tolerate tardiness well.
“Noah Alexander. Your father and brother are in the car. Both your and Liam’s class will be there in half an hour. What happens if the birthday boys aren’t there?”
I know the party’s important, but I just need a few more minutes to finish this present. “It’s something for Liam, Mom. Please, I’m almost done.”
My mom’s face begins to soften, and I know right then I’ll get the extra minutes I need. “How can I say no to you wanting to give your twin a gift on his birthday? But, you have five minutes. Please don’t be any later, baby.”
I’m given a reprieve. The last of the paint on Liam’s gift has dried, and I place the football I made just for him in a sturdy box and attach an orange bow to the top. It’s Liam’s favorite color because it matches his hair.
* * *
The Science Museumat the Seattle Center is huge. I watch my brother disappear in the crowd with his group of friends. We’re at different schools this year, as my elementary school is aimed for those who excel in the arts.
I’m still the new kid and have only made a handful of friends. They’ve called and RSVP’d with my mother. None of them are here yet, or at least in the maze of kids, I don’t recognize anyone.
My eyes are searching the crowd when a display catches my attention. The words Microscopic Patterns in Mathematics catches my eye. It’s a paper mache, made to look like a huge piñata, but open in the middle. There’s a variety of explanations as to why this piece of art is indeed a science experiment. I couldn’t care less that this is science. All I see in front of me is a beautiful piece of art.
I’m in my own world, my brain attempting to navigate a similar piece in my mind, with my own twist. After all, I work with my hands to sculpt.
I realize I’m not alone, and turn to my left, assuming a classmate has found me. But, standing next to me is a boy close to my age that I don’t recognize.
“Is that a piñata shaped like the sun?” he asks.
“I don’t think it’s a piñata, but it looks like one. This belongs in an art museum, not a science center.” Mom swears I speak as though I’m a thirty-year-old when I talk about art.
“I wish I could make something like that,” he says.
“Yeah, I’m trying to figure it out. I’d love to make this at home.”
“Are you an artist?” he asks.
“Yes, and I think I can do this.”
“I paint, but I’d never be able to make that. I don’t think I could.” He has the same intense look on his face as I do.
“It’s a pattern, see. You just have to count the number of colors and repeat the pattern in the front, the back, and the sides, creating an opening,” I explain.
I’m counting the colors, and while several shades are similar, I can recognize all the pigment distinctions. “See, I’ve counted seventeen different colors. You don’t have to do that many, or make it as big, but if you follow the pattern, it’ll work for you.”
“Noah,” my mother calls, and I turn around to see three friends from my class standing at her side. “Look who is here.”
I take one last look at the piece in front of me, and then at the boy, who is still inspecting the piñata. “I gotta go, good luck on this,” I offer.
He turns to me, and it’s the first time I see his face straight on. His eyes are a similar color as mine. He smiles, and I’m gone, finding my friends.
When I get home later that night, I begin my attempt to recreate the piece I’d seen today. It isn’t perfect, but it’s a start.
3
Noah
Age Seventeen
“I can’t believeMom let us go tonight!” Liam shouts as he peels out of the driveway.
