The Eternal Wonder by Pearl S. Buck Read Free Book Online Page B

“Clean and all—like Sunday. Mine works in a garage—it’s his garage. I’m gonna work there when I’m old enough. I work now in summer on the days I feel like it. But I’m gonna work every day when I’m sixteen and Pop’ll pay me good money—he says so. He’s okay if he isn’t mad about somepin. Anyways, he don’t drink. Ma’s glad of that.”
    In spite of every effort on the part of his parents, however, Chris was completely silent during the meal, and immediately afterward declared that he must go home.
    “I got chores to do,” he explained abruptly.
    THAT NIGHT HIS PARENTS CAME as near to a quarrel as he had ever heard. He was working on the water-powered engine, a project that had now progressed beyond the drawing he had finished in school. He had worked on it only intermittently in school, for he had learned even in his brief experience with himself that there were periods when he must allow his brain to rest by putting it to other matters. If he allowed it to puzzle too long over an invention or task, then there would come a moment when it simply refused to clarify a difficulty that must of course be clarified. Every puzzlement must be clarified. What he was working on now were the angles of the paddles or wings of the wheel. Each must be slightly different from the other, yet exactly in the right relationship to every other. It was in this moment of delicate adjustment that he heard his father’s voice infused with unwonted irritation.
    “But Susan, the boy is learning nothing in this school!”
    His mother replied with equal vigor. “He’s learning how to live with people of his own age!”
    “Susan, you don’t realize our responsibility for a brain like his!”
    “I don’t want him to grow up lonely!” Her voice broke, as though she were trying not to cry.
    “But he will always be lonely—you must accept the fact!”
    “On certain levels I do accept it, but not on every level. He must be able to live with other people, enjoying other people even if they can’t be on his level. He must have some relief from himself.”
    “He can never have relief from himself. A few hours—no, not even that. In fact, he will never be as lonely as he will be with other people.”
    “Oh, why do you say that? You break my heart.”
    “Well, it stands to reason—it’s when he is with other people that he will feel his difference most keenly.”
    “Darling, what shall we do?”
    “Teach him to accept himself. He’s a loner. We know it. He must know it—and learn that he has joys and resources that ordinary people can never know. He’ll know wonder as long as he lives—think what endless joy that will be! Always the reaching mind, always the searching curiosity! Don’t feel sorry for our son, Susan, my love. Rejoice, that unto us such a son is born! Our responsibility is to see that he fulfills himself, that he is not wasted. He must be allowed to proceed at his own top speed. No, Susan, I insist—we have to find the right school, the right teachers, even if we have to make it. Miss Downes knows it, bless her. She’s miserable at not being able to devote herself to him. That’s why she told you he should be in the sixth or seventh grade. I say he shouldn’t be in any grade but his own. He must go at his own speed. It’s our responsibility to see that he has his freedom.”
    THE NEXT AUTUMN HE FOUND HIMSELF in a new school in the same town, a small new school whose principal and teacher was his own father. There were other pupils, three girls and four boys. He did not know any of them. Five of them came from neighboring towns, two boys were from his own town, their fathers professors in science. The schoolroom was a large attic above the college gymnasium. The four walls were filled with shelves of books, except for the dormer windows. The building was so high that these windows looked out on treetops, and he had the feeling of being on a mountain. There was no schedule of studies. Sometime