Louis Fantas And Silly Doodles

Louis Fantas had one hand inside his sketchbook and the other hand inside his pocket when the hallway bell rang.

The sketchbook was open to a fresh page. At the top, Louis had drawn a tiny crown. Under it, he was adding a very serious-looking potato wearing shoes.

“Almost done,” Louis whispered.

The hallway was busy with children moving between classroom doors. Shoes squeaked on the shiny floor. Backpacks bumped into lockers. Somewhere nearby, a lunchbox snapped shut with a loud click.

Louis tucked himself beside a noticeboard and bent over his page. He liked drawing in the hallway because there was always something to see. A crooked shoelace could become a snake. A pile of coats could become a sleeping mountain. Even a classroom door could look like the mouth of a giant cupboard.

His pencil made a soft scratching sound.

Scratch, scratch, scribble.

The potato’s shoes were now much too large.

Louis smiled and added a little speech bubble.

“Please do not step on me.”

He was about to draw a tiny umbrella when a pair of black shoes stopped in front of him.

Louis slowly looked up.

A school guard stood there with a frown that seemed to have been folded into place. His name badge said GUARD, which Louis thought was not very helpful. Louis had already guessed that part.

The guard pointed at the sketchbook.

“What are you doing?”

Louis held the book close. “Drawing.”

“I can see that,” said the guard. “Where are you drawing?”

“On the page.”

The guard blinked.

Louis blinked back.

For a moment, the hallway seemed quieter. Then a child nearby giggled and hurried through a classroom door.

The guard placed both hands on his belt. “I mean, where in the school are you drawing?”

“In the hallway,” said Louis.

“That is the problem.”

Louis glanced at the floor, the noticeboard, and the long row of classroom doors. Nothing looked dangerous. The floor was still a floor. The noticeboard was still covered in old papers. The doors were still closed.

“Is the hallway allergic to pencils?” Louis asked.

The guard’s frown became even frownier.

“No doodles in the hallway,” he said.

Louis looked at his page. The potato’s large shoes seemed to look back at him.

“But it is only a small doodle.”

“No doodles,” the guard repeated.

“What about a medium doodle?”

“No.”

“A very tiny doodle?”

The guard pointed to a sign beside the noticeboard. Louis had walked past it many times, but he had never read all the words. The sign said:

PLEASE KEEP HALLWAYS CLEAR.

Underneath, in smaller letters, someone had added:

NO DRAWING WHILE WALKING OR STANDING OR LEANING OR THINKING ABOUT DRAWING.

Louis stared at the last line.

“That is a lot of no,” he said.

“It is a school rule,” said the guard.

Louis closed his sketchbook halfway. “But I was not walking.”

“You were standing.”

“I was standing very carefully.”

The guard did not smile. Louis decided that the guard might have forgotten how.

A group of children passed by. One child carried a stack of books. Another held a bright paper model. Louis moved closer to the noticeboard so they could get through.

The guard watched him. “See? The hallway is for moving. If everyone stopped to draw, people would bump into one another.”

Louis looked at the potato’s giant shoes again. “This potato would never bump into anyone.”

“That potato is not the rule-maker.”

Louis imagined the potato wearing a tiny hat and holding a whistle.

NO DRAWING, shouted the potato in Louis’s mind.

It was a very bossy potato.

Louis slipped the pencil behind his ear. “I can move and draw.”

He took one careful step along the wall and drew a quick line. The line was meant to be a tail for the potato.

It turned into a noodle.

The guard cleared his throat.

Louis stopped.

“Right,” he said. “No moving and drawing.”

He tried another idea. He leaned against the wall, keeping both feet still. He added two dots to the potato’s face.

The guard pointed to the sign again.

“No leaning.”

Louis stood straight.

“Then I will stand without leaning.”

“No standing and drawing.”

Louis sat on the floor.

The guard looked down at him.

Louis looked up.

“Is sitting allowed?”

“Not for drawing.”

Louis closed the sketchbook. His cheeks felt warm. The hallway was not scary, and the guard was not shouting, but Louis still felt as if his pencil had been caught doing something very naughty.

He pressed his thumb against the book’s blue cover. The cover was smooth and worn at the corners. Inside were pages filled with funny faces, wobbly animals, and inventions that did not work.

He did not want to get in trouble. He also did not want to stop drawing.

“Could I finish this one?” Louis asked.

The guard glanced at the page. “The potato?”

Louis nodded.

“It has shoes,” said the guard.

“Very large shoes.”

“I noticed.”

“It needs a hat.”

The guard sighed. It was a long sigh, like air escaping from a tired balloon.

“Louis, you may not draw here.”

Louis sat very still. The noise of the hallway rolled around him....