This Perfect Day by Ira Levin Read Free Book Online Page A

fighting zoo!” he said.
    “No I haven’t,” Karl said.
    All the drawings had the A with the circle around it in the comer. “What’s that for?” Chip asked.
    “Artists used to sign their pictures. To show whose work it was.”
    “I know,” Chip said, “but why an A?”
    “Oh,” Karl said, and turned the pages back one by one. “It stands for Ashi,” he said. “That’s what my sister calls me.” He came to the horse, added a line of charcoal to its stomach, and looked at the horses in the compound with his look of concentration, which now had an object and a reason.
    “I have an extra name too,” Chip said. “Chip. My grandfather gave it to me.”
    “Chip?”
    “It means ‘chip off the old block.’ I’m supposed to be like my grandfather’s grandfather.” Chip watched Karl sharpen the lines of the horse’s rear legs, and then moved from his side. “I’d better get back to the group I’m with,” he said. “Those are top speed. It’s a shame you weren’t classified an artist.”
    Karl looked at him. “I wasn’t, though,” he said, “so I only draw on Sundays and holidays and during the free hour. I never let it interfere with my work or whatever else I’m supposed to be doing.”
    “Right,” Chip said. “See you at the dorm.”
    That evening, after TV, Chip came back to his cubicle and found on his desk the drawing of the horse. Karl, in his cubicle, said, “Do you want it?”
    “Yes,” Chip said. “Thanks. It’s great!” The drawing had even more vitality and power than before. An A-in-a-circle was in a corner of it.
    Chip tabbed the drawing to the bulletin board behind the desk, and as he finished, Yin DW came in, bringing back a copy of Universe she had borrowed. “Where’d you get that?” she asked.
    “Karl WL did it,” Chip said.
    “That’s very nice, Karl,” Yin said. “You draw well.”
    Karl, getting into pajamas, said, “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”
    To Chip, Yin whispered, “It’s all out of proportion. Keep it there, though. It was kind of you to put it up.”
    Once in a while, during the free hour, Chip and Karl went to the Pre-U together. Karl made sketches of the mastodon and the bison, the cavemen in their animal hides, the soldiers and sailors in their countless different uniforms. Chip wandered among the early automobiles and dictypes, the safes and handcuffs and TV “sets.” He studied the models and pictures of the old buildings: the spired and buttressed churches, the turreted castles, the large and small houses with their windows and lock-fitted doors. Windows, he thought, must have had their good points. It would be pleasant, would make one feel bigger, to look out at the world from one’s room or working place; and at night, from outside, a house with rows of lighted windows must have been attractive, even beautiful.
    One afternoon Karl came into Chip’s cubicle and stood beside the desk with his hands fisted at his sides. Chip, looking up at him, thought he had been stricken by a fever or worse; his face was flushed and his eyes were narrowed in a strange stare. But no, it was anger that held him, anger such as Chip had never seen before, anger so intense that, trying to speak, Karl seemed unable to work his lips.
    Anxiously Chip said, “What is it?”
    “Li,” Karl said. “Listen. Will you do me a favor?”
    “Sure! Of course!”
    Karl leaned close to him and whispered, “Claim a pad for me, will you? I just claimed one and was denied. Five fighting hundred of them, a pile this high, and I had to turn it back in!”
    Chip stared at him.
    “Claim one, will you?” Karl said. “Anyone can try a little sketching in his spare time, right? Go on down, okay?”
    Painfully Chip said, “Karl—”
    Karl looked at him, his anger retreated, and he stood up straight. “No,” he said. “No, I—I just lost my temper, that’s all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, brother. Forget it.” He clapped Chip’s shoulder. “I’m okay now,” he