Chapter 7: Drawing Lessons

That night, Hugo couldn't sleep. He thought of how his father's mechanical journal fell short because of his untimely death. He couldn't seem to find a comfortable position and eventually gave up. He lit a candle nearby with some matches and picked up a Jules Verne novel.

After reading a few pages or so, he turned his gaze back to the candle. The flickering flames reminded him of the tragedy from so long ago, fire licking at the edges of a broken window. He imagined the ruined building, like the charred wick of the candle…

Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. Startled, he dropped his novel onto the bed.

"Follow the example."

At least, Hugo thought it was in his head. It was much like the voice he'd heard that'd told him to fix the automaton. That had been a bit more straightforward.

"What example?" Hugo thought silently.

No one replied (mercifully for his sanity) so Hugo returned to his book.

"Look here, in this notebook," the professor said. "This is an example of the climate beneath the crust…"

The notebook! That was the example the nonexistent voice was talking about. But what did it mean?

"Follow the example."

Hugo thought a bit, sighed, and leaned back. He couldn't think about anything now, for he was still recovering from the upsetting results of the automaton. Not that it didn't work- it's just that it reminded him of some horrible times in his life. They were things that he'd tried to forget… yet things that he didn't wish to forget at the same time.

Hugo closed his book shut with another sigh. He blew the candle out, leaving himself in complete darkness apart from the light from the pale moon, streaming through the window and spilling onto the smooth, wooden floor. Staring at the moonlit streets of Paris and the dark sky, he imagined a face on the moon.

The man on the moon, he thought.

That somewhat comforted him, and he finally fell asleep.

"Good day, Monsieur," Isabelle greeted the Station Inspector as he passed by.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Isabelle," the Station Inspector said back. Maximilian just barked loudly.

The weather outside was rainy, and the air felt humid. Hugo hadn't gotten up yet, so Isabelle had a little time to do whatever she wanted by herself. However, with the horrible weather, "whatever she wanted" was a rather limited set of choices.

With nothing to do, Isabelle found a bench and sat down. She pulled out a notebook with a smooth, cardboard surface. She kept her notebook in her pocket at all times.

Should she write about some recent events? No, she's done that a lot. Yesterday's events were a bit uncomfortable to talk about, anyway. There was something she'd always wanted to try doing, and it was drawing. She'd seen Hugo do it in art class, and his art was nothing short of amazing. It was like he'd taken the image in his mind and transferred it to the blank, white paper. Isabelle had tried, and she was decent at it. She had to admit she didn't try very hard in that class, since it didn't really have anything to do with books. But ever since Mama Jeanne had suggested putting drawings with her story, she'd gotten an idea. It was a brilliant, wonderful idea. It was to put drawings in place of certain parts of a story. She tried to think of a term in her mind once… a "picture novel".

She'd been thinking about getting Hugo to do it for her, but now she was getting other ideas. What if she could do it herself? She looked in front of her, at the large pillars, the stone floor, the bustling crowd, and the large glass windows.

Taking out a writing utensil, she raised her right hand just above the left side of the notebook page. Then, pencil met paper as one tentative stroke slowly progressed across the page.

The floor, she thought.

Then, she drew the pillars, rising up from underneath the line. She erased the places where the lines intersected and crossed.

Slowly but surely, things and details were added to the picture. Several people were added here and there, a steaming train occupied one of the previously vacant tracks. Shades and shadows were added, and suddenly, Isabelle was left with something she was quite unaware of being able to create.

"Did you draw that?"

Isabelle looked behind her. Hugo was looking over her shoulder, studying the intricate drawing Isabelle had created.

"Yes, I drew it while I waited for you."

"That's a really good drawing!"

"Thanks, but it's not as good as yours," Isabelle said modestly.

"I can teach you to be better than me if you'd like," Hugo said shyly.

Isabelle thought hard- it was something she'd always wanted to do, and now she was going to learn how to do it from her best friend. It sounded like a little adventure to her. She took up the offer.

The morning passed, and the two children were left with nothing to do in the afternoon. Hugo decided to get some paper out and they would start sketching something together so that Isabelle would get the feel of drawing. They looked through a few of Isabelle's books and chose a small photograph of the exterior of a theater. Hugo started lecturing Isabelle.

"You always want to start simple. Start with the basic outline of the major, large objects first, and then you can base the position of the other objects off the main objects."

And so Isabelle drew a large rectangular prism with some smaller shapes on it that would eventually become the signs and windows. Then, like Hugo said, they drew some more buildings on either side of that. It was as if the picture was gradually expanding from the center. Soon, the rough sketch was completed.

"Now," Hugo said. "Since the light is coming from the sun, the tops of the objects have to be brightest. You have to see which side the sun is on- the sides of the objects that are turned away from the sun have to be the darkest."

He went on and on, explaining about shadows, details, scale, and other useful things he thought Isabelle ought to know. He told her tricks for making sure something was symmetrical, techniques for shading, and even making up some part of the drawing such as adding pedestrians on the streets and birds in the sky to make it look more realistic.

Before they knew it, the drawing was completely done. It had taken them a few hours, but with Hugo's help, Isabelle had something she never thought she could ever create. The drawing of the theater looks almost exactly like the photograph except for their little additional details.

"Well, I have to say we're off to a good start," Hugo said, grinning. "And you knew most of the things that I told you, didn't you?"

"Yes," Isabelle admitted. "Thanks to art class at school and books from the library, yes, I do."

"Isabelle," Hugo said slowly. "I have a question for you."

"What is it?" Isabelle asked.

"Do you-"

"DINNERTIME!" Mama Jeanne yelled from the kitchen.

"Let's go," Hugo said quickly. Isabelle was a bit confused, but she followed him into the kitchen anyway.

Isabelle leaned against her pillow, picking up a book. She pressed the switch on her night table lamp, known as the "Petit Champignon" for its mushroom- like figure. Hugo had bought the lamp for Isabelle as a birthday present, since she liked to read into the night. Papa Georges and Mama Jeanne didn't know what it was for- Isabelle doubted they would let her read that late at night if they knew.

Suddenly, she heard a dull thud from Hugo's room. She jumped off the bed swiftly, ran outside the door, and knocked on the door to Hugo's room.

"Come in... ow..."

Isabelle pushed open the door. She saw Hugo lying on the floor beside his bed, rubbing his head in pain. She rushed over and kneeled down, panicking slightly.

"Hugo! You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm okay," Hugo said, wincing as he sat up. "I had a nightmare and rolled off my bed, somehow."

Hugo had gone to bed earlier than Isabelle tonight, so he'd fallen asleep long before Isabelle started to read her book.

"What was the dream about?" Isabelle asked, her worried expression disappearing. It was replaced by an amused grin. "I can't imagine anything that's scary enough to frighten you."

"It's a dream I've had before," Hugo said sleepily, flattening out his thin, white nightshirt. "Just last night. But it's nothing much, really."

Isabelle knew he was hiding something, but she didn't ask anything else about his dream. It could be something personal and something that she didn't need to know- she already knew several things that Hugo would be uncomfortable with telling anyone else. However, another question had been bugging her all evening.

"Hugo," Isabelle started cautiously; Hugo looked up, listening. "What was that question you wanted to ask me earlier this evening?"

"What question?" Hugo said, apparently forgetting what he wanted to ask due to his drowsiness.

"Um... never mind," Isabelle said quickly, deciding not to press any further. "Good night, Hugo."

Hugo smiled languidly, his eyes half- closed and clambering back onto his bed clumsily.

"G'night, Isabelle."

Isabelle walked out the door and quietly shut it behind her. Stepping back into her own room down the hall, she paused and pondered over what Hugo had just said. She thought Hugo wasn't telling her something, and he wasn't planning to tell her anytime soon. It was truly frustrating; as good of a friend as Hugo was, he could be so surreptitious all the time.

Meanwhile, Hugo's eyes were wide open as he lay in bed. He thought about his nightmare, and how he'd rolled off the mattress and onto the cold, wooden floor.

The nightmare had happened before; dozens of automata were sitting at their desks, and when they looked up, Hugo's father's face was on each and every one of them. Then, a loud thud echoed throughout the walls of the room in the scene. Smiles curved downwards in shock as a blazing fire erupted from the ground and engulfed the shouting automata.

A tear rolled down from Hugo's eye. He got up and out of bed again, walking over to the window, barefoot and trembling. He pushed the soft, silvery curtains apart and the moonlight streamed into Hugo's bedroom through the tall window. Again, he looked to the man on the moon for comfort. Bitterness turned bittersweet, tears of sorrow turned to tears of remembrance, and Hugo finally found consolation that night.

Author's Note: Hello readers! This is my first Author's Note ever. I'm sorry for the delay in continuing the two stories. None of them will be discontinued anytime soon!

I would like to thank all those who urged me to continue the stories. I set a goal to upload a chapter to this story before 2013 arrives (before 12:00 P.M. EST), so here it is! A new chapter for Golden Trio will come in the new year.

Speaking of which, Happy New Year!

The BFG