Another Pan by Daniel Nayeri

up his scraps. “Simon showed me all kinds of stuff.”
    Simon stood to the side, taking the compliments like tributes laid at the feet of a pharaoh.
    Wendy wasn’t in the mood. She had been doing all the work by herself, and the afternoon was wasting away.
    “You guys can start over there,” she said. She reached out to hand Simon the inventory list, but Simon didn’t reach out to take it.
    “You two go ahead and finish up here,” said Simon, changing tack from his previous attempts to get his hands on all the paperwork. “It looks like you’ve got it under control.”
    It seemed that now his game was to play boss by
not
doing work.
    A flare went off behind Wendy’s eyes. “What? You’re supposed to help.”
    “I’m supposed to make sure that you children don’t harm the artifacts,” said Simon. “I’ve monitored the quality of your work, and I’m willing to let it slide.”
    “You weren’t monitoring anything. You were playing with that pile of electronic junk and your stupid watch,” said Wendy.
    “
Adults
can do two things at once,” said Simon. “I’ve been tested and can do five.”
    Simon turned and marched out of the basement as Wendy tried to control the anger rising up from her chest.
What a total prick!
Did he really think that kind of crap would work? She was sixteen, not twelve. And she could see right through this guy. Just another résumé-padding loser who thought that if he ordered people around with enough condescension, they’d just blindly do everything he wanted. Wendy let out a frustrated groan. She went back to the daunting task of organizing the exhibition by herself. John put down his scraps and knelt by her side. Wendy was too angry to give him any instructions at the moment. So he hovered, waiting for an opportunity to make himself useful. Wendy worked in silence. A few times, she reached for something and John jumped up to get it and hand it to her.
    When she placed a limestone vase in the Thirteenth Dynasty section, John made a little coughing sound to catch her attention. Then he nodded at the Fourteenth Dynasty artifacts, and Wendy realized he was right. She placed the vase in the right pile and smiled at her little brother. John grinned. “Thanks,” said Wendy.
    “No problem,” said John.
    They were silent for a little longer, until John said, “Wendy?”
    “Yeah?” said Wendy.
    “You know, you probably shouldn’t have insulted the multi-watch.”
    “Shut up, John.”
    As they sat cross-legged in the semidarkness, sorting statues and scrolls into piles, the thick walls of the Marlowe basement ricocheted the sound of their laughter.

    We walked through the museum gardens my colleague Russell had been cultivating for months. Pink cherry blossoms like big clouds right above us. I had my research assistant set up a picnic on the grass, and when we sat down, I think she thought that I was going to ask her right then. But I didn’t. We had Brie and olives, and the whole time she kept interrupting her own sentences to look at me. She was trying to figure out when I’d ask, but I never did. I couldn’t help grinning like a fool, but I talked about Russell’s trees, and my newest exhibit, and how we’d tried to harmonize the museum and the grounds. And when we’d finished, she was obviously disappointed. Then I took her into the exhibit — Old Kingdom artifacts — and I prattled on about a set of combs under the glass case. In the reflection I could see that she was uninterested. I pointed out an emerald necklace. Then we passed the ring — even Cleopatra would have drooled over this one. I said, “You know what? Let’s just take that one out.” I opened the glass case. She was shocked. I pulled out the ring and gave it to her. She cried. She’d never seen anything like it
.

“Can you believe we’re allowed to do this?” John asked Wendy as he carefully swirled a Q-tip in one of the cracks of an old statue. He came up with a clump of grayish