"Stanley G. Weinbaum - The New Adam" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinbaum Stanley G)

Edmond's defiance had halted him was not evident.
"Can't fight with girls around," was his comment, as he swung on his heel. The pack, leaderless,
watched the quarry depart.
"Why do they call you Evanne?" asked Edmond as they walked on.
"One grandma's name was Eva and the other's name was Anne," sang Vanny. She had answered the
same question numerous times. Her mind reverted to the scene of a moment before. "Why don't you get
mad at Paul once in a while? He rides you too much."
"Perhaps," said Edmond. "Sometimes." He fell silent, and they walked on until they reached Vanny's
home.
 "Goodbye, Edmond." She took the books he had carried for her and skipped into the house. Edmond
trudged on alone.
In the morning the quarrel had been forgotten; at least Paul did not refer to it, and Edmond saw no
reason to revive it. Paul walked home with Vanny as usual that afternoon, and every afternoon following.
Edmond was satisfied, he sought no further meeting with the girl, but he felt a slight thrill of pleasure to
have her smile and greet him thereafter when they met in the hall or on the playground. He always smiled
a thin, youthfully sardonic smile in answer. It was the friendliest grimace he could manage with what
features he had available.
The years in the grades dragged onтАФfutile, stupid years, the boy thought. For, though no one had
real-ized it, Edmond never studied. True, he handed in the usual themes and exercises when these were
required, and he purchased the usual text books, but these were never perused. The explanations of the
teacher, the little drill he had in class, were all he required; his almost infallible memory served him
sufficiently to render needless any further study.
In these awakening years he was beginning to ap-preciate something elseтАФthat there was a difference
between the beings about him and himself. Not the minor physical differences that he had always known,
but a mental and emotional gap that he was unable to bridge. This realization was slow in dawning. He
began by recognizing a slightly superior feeling, a mild contempt, for his class-mates; they were stupid,
slow, plodding; they worked over problems that yielded instantly to his perceptions. Even Paul, who was
incessantly being called on for answers when others failed, and who always made the highest marks,
seemed merely a less complete dullard than the rest.
But the vital difference was of another sort, a varia-tion not of degree but of nature. This conclusion
came to him as the culmination of many semesters of repri-mands by his various teachers, and the
accumulated repetitions of an adage that seemed meaningless to him. He was in seventh grade when the
realization dawned, and it came about in this fashion.
The geography period was in session, and the teacher was expounding at some length the growing
importance of South America to the United States. Edmond, who was seated near a window, was
staring disinterestedly out at the street. He noticed a commo-tion at the cornerтАФtwo automobiles had
mutually dented fendersтАФand turned his head, focusing his eyes on the scene. His motion drew the
teacher's petulant glance.
"Edmond Hall!" was her impatient exclamation. "Please forget the window and pay attention!" This
followed with the most surprising statement he had heard during his seven school years. "No one can
think of two things at once!"
Edmond knew she was wrong. He had been follow-ing her. For he himself could with perfect clarity
pursue two separate and distinct trains of thought at the same time.

CHAPTER III
INTROSPECTION

HIGH school. A larger world wherein it was far easier to walk alone. Classes under various teachers
and with various associates, and freedom from the prying glare of prolonged intimacy. Edmond was half
content.