The Anything Box
Page 1
The Anything Box
Зенна Гендерсон
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K:eMuleIncomingZenna Henderson – The Anything Box.pdb.pdb
PDB Name:henderson, zenna – the anythingCreator ID:read PDB Type:text Version:0 Unique ID Seed:0 Creation Date:28-10-2002 Modification Date:28-10-2002 Last Backup Date:1-1-1970 Modification Number:0
Enter the HORRIFYING LYRICAL POIGNANT TERRIBLE BEAUTIFUL UNIQUEWorld of Zenna Henderson
where "a rare combination of energy, sensitivity and imagination add upto anexciting talent."
Other Avon books by Zenna Henderson
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THE PEOPLE: No DIFFERENT FLESH
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HOLDING WONDER
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The Anything BoxZENNA HENDERSON
AVON
PUBLISHERS OF BARD, CAMELOT AND DISCUS BOOKS
All of the characters in this book are fictitious,and any resemblance to actual persons,living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction:"The Anything Box" Copyright © 1956 by Mercury Press, Inc."Subcommittee" Copyright © 1962 by Mercury Press, Inc."Food to All Flesh" Copyright 1954 by Mercury Press, Inc."Come On, Wagon!" Copyright 1951 by Mercury Press, Inc."Walking Aunt Daid" Copyright © 1955 by Mercury Press, Inc."Things" Copyright © 1960 by Mercury Press, Inc."Turn the Page" Copyright © 1957 by Mercury Press, Inc."And a Little Child—" Copyright © 1959 by Mercury Press, Inc."The Last Step" Copyright © 1957 by Mercury Press, Inc. Galaxy Magazine:"Something Bright" Copyright © 1959 by Galaxy Publishing CorporationBeyond Fantasy Fiction: "Hush!" Copyright 1953 by Galaxy PublishingCorporationImagination:"The Substitute" Copyright 1953 by Greenleaf Publishing Company "Stevie and
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The Dark" Copyright 1952 by Greenleaf PublishingCompany ,"The Grunder" Copyright 1953 by Greenleaf Publishing CompanyAVON BOOKS A division of The Hearst Corporation959 Eighth AvenueNew York, New York 10019Copyright © 1965 by Zenna Henderson Published by arrangement with Doubleday &Co., Inc. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65-24001 ISBN:0-380-01745-8 All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book orportions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Doubleday &Co., Inc., 277 Park Ave. New York, New YorkFirst Avon Printing, February, 1969 Third PrintingCover illustration by Hector GarridoAVON TRADEMARK REO. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES, REGISTERED TRADEMARK-MARCA KEGISTRADA, HECHO EN CHICAGO, U.S.A. Printed in the U.S.A.
To all my friends who have spokenfor an Anything Box,but especially for R. G.who has no need of his now.
Contents The Anything BoxSubcommittee Something BrightHush! Food to All Flesh Come On, Wagon!Walking Aunt DaidThe Substitute The Grunder ThingsTurn the PageStevie and The Dark And a Little Child— The Last Step
The Anything Box
I suppose it was about the second week of school that I noticed Sue-lynnparticularly. Of course, I'd noticed her name before and checked her outautomatically for maturity and ability and probable performance the way mostteachers do with their students during the first weeks of school. She hadchecked out mature and capable and no worry as to performance so I hadpigeonholed her— setting aside for the moment the little nudge that said, "Tooquiet"—with my other no-worrys until the fluster and flurry of the first dayshad died down a little.
I remember my noticing day. I had collapsed into my chair for a briefrespite from guiding hot little hands through the intricacies of keeping aCrayola within reasonable bounds and the room was full of the relaxed, happyhum of a pleased class as they worked away, not realizing that they wererubbing "blue" into their memories as well as onto their papers. I was
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meditating on how individual personalities were beginning to emerge among thethirty-five or so heterogeneous first graders I had, when I noticedSue-lynn—really noticed her—for the first time.
She had finished her paper—far ahead of the others as usual—and was sittingat her table facing me. She had her thumbs touching in front of her on thetable and her fingers curving as though they held something betweenthem—something large enough to keep her fingertips apart and angular enough tobend her fingers as if for corners. It was something pleasant that sheheld—pleasant and precious. You could tell that by the softness of her hold.She was leaning forward a little, her lower ribs pressed against the table,and she was looking, completely absorbed, at the table between her hands. Herface was relaxed and happy. Her mouth curved in a tender half-smile, and as Iwatched, her lashes lifted and she looked at me with a warm share-the-pleasurelook. Then her eyes blinked and the shutters came down inside them. Her handflicked into the desk and out. She pressed her thumbs to her forefingers andrubbed them slowly together. Then she laid one hand over the other on thetable and looked down at them with the air of complete denial and ignorancechildren can assume so devastatingly.
The incident caught my fancy and I began to notice Sue-lynn. As Iconsciously watched her, I saw that she spent most of her free time staring atthe table between her hands, much too unobtrusively to catch my busyattention. She hurried through even the fun-est of fun papers and then lostherself in looking. When Davie pushed her down at recess, and blood streamedfrom her knee to her ankle, she took her bandages and her tear-smudged face tothat comfort she had so readily—if you'll pardon the expression—at hand, andemerged minutes later, serene and dry-eyed. I think Davie pushed her downbecause of her Looking. I know the day before he had come up to me, red-facedand squirming.
"Teacher," he blurted. "She Looks!"
"Who looks?" I asked absently, checking the vocabulary list in my book,wondering how on earth I'd missed where, one of those annoying wh words thatthrow the children for a loss.
"Sue-lynn. She Looks and Looks!"
"At you?" I asked.
"Well—" He rubbed a forefinger below his nose, leaving a clean streak onhis upper lip, accepted the proffered Kleenex and put it in his pocket. "Shelooks at her desk and tells lies. She says she can see—"
"Can see what?" My curiosity picked up its ears.
"Anything," said Davie. "It's her Anything Box. She can see anything shewants to."
"Does it hurt you for her to Look?"
"Well," he squirmed. Then he burst out. "She says she saw me with a dogbiting me because I took her pencil— she said." He started a pell-mell verbalretreat. "She thinks I took her pencil. I only found—" His eyes dropped. "I'llgive it back."
"I hope so," I smiled. "If you don't want her to look at you, then don't dothings like that."
"Dern girls," he muttered, and clomped back to his seat.
So I think he pushed her down the next day to get back at her for thedogbite.
Several times after that I wandered to the back of the room, casually inher vicinity, but always she either saw or felt me coming and the quick sketchof her hand disposed of the evidence. Only once I thought I caught a glimmerof something—but her thumb and forefinger brushed in sunlight, and it musthave been just that.
Children don't retreat for no reason at all, and though Sue-lynn did notfollow any overt pattern of withdrawal, I started to wonder about her. Iwatched her on the playground, to see how she tracked there. That onlyconfused me more.
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She had a very regular pattern. When the avalanche of children first
descended at recess, she avalanched along with them and nothing in the
shriek
ing, running, dodging mass resolved itself into a withdrawn Sue-lynn.
But after ten minutes or so, she emerged from the crowd, tousle-haired,
rosy-cheeked, smutched with dust, one shoelace dangling, and through some
alchemy that I coveted for myself, she suddenly became untousled, undusty and
un-smutched.
And there she was, serene and composed on the narrow little step at the
side of the flight of stairs just where they disappeared into the base of the
pseudo-Corinthian column that graced Our Door and her cupped hands received
whatever they received and her absorption in what she saw became so complete
that the bell came as a shock every time.
And each time, before she joined the rush to Our Door, her hand would
sketch a gesture to her pocket, if she had one, or to the tiny ledge that
extended between the hedge and the building. Apparently she always had to put
the Anything Box away, but never had to go back to get it.
I was so intrigued by her putting whatever it was on the ledge that once I
actually went over and felt along the grimy little outset. I sheepishly
followed my children into the hall, wiping the dust from my fingertips, and
Sue-lynn's eyes brimmed amusement at me without her mouth's smiling. Her hands
mischievously squared in front of her and her thumbs caressed a solidness as
the line of children swept into the room.
I smiled too because she was so pleased with having outwitted me. This
seemed to be such a gay withdrawal that I let my worry die down. Better this
manifestation than any number of other ones that I could name.
Someday, perhaps, I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. I wish I had before
that long afternoon when we primary teachers worked together in a heavy cloud
of Ditto fumes, the acrid smell of India ink, drifting cigarette smoke and the
constant current of chatter, and I let Alpha get me started on what to do with
our behavior problems. She was all raunched up about the usual rowdy loudness
of her boys and the eternal clack of her girls, and I—bless my stupidity—gave
her Sue-lynn as an example of what should be our deepest concern rather than
the outbursts from our active ones.
"You mean she just sits and looks at nothing?" Alpha's voice grated into
her questioning tone.
"Well, I can't see anything," I admitted. "But apparently she can."
"But that's having hallucinations!" Her voice went up a notch. "I read a
book once—"
"Yes." Marlene leaned across the desk to flick ashes in the ash tray. "So
we have heard and heard and heard!"
"Well!" sniffed Alpha. "It's better than never reading a book."
"We're waiting," Marlene leaked smoke from her nostrils, "for the day when
you read another book. This one must have been uncommonly long."
"Oh, I don't know." Alpha's forehead wrinkled with concentration. "It was
only about—" Then she reddened and turned her face angrily away from Marlene.
"Apropos of our discussion—" she said pointedly. "It sounds to me like that
child has a deep personality disturbance. Maybe even a psychotic—whatever—"
Her eyes glistened faintly as she turned the thought over.
"Oh, I don't know," I said, surprised into echoing her words at my sudden
need to defend Sue-lynn. "There's something about her. She doesn't have that
apprehensive, hunched-shoulder, don't-hit-me-again air about her that so many
withdrawn children have." And I thought achingly of one of mine from last year
that Alpha had now and was verbally bludgeoning back into silence after all my
work with him. "She seems to have a happy, adjusted personality, only with
this odd little—plus."
"Well, I'd be worried if she were mine," said Alpha. "I'm glad all my kids
are so normal." She sighed complacently. "I guess I really haven't anything to
kick about. I seldom ever have problem children except wigglers and yakkers,
and a holler and a smack can straighten them out"
Marlene caught my eye mockingly, tallying Alpha's class with me, and I
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turned away with a sigh. To be so happy— well, I suppose ignorance does help.
"You'd better do something about that girl," Alpha shrilled as she left the
room. "She'll probably get worse and worse as time goes on. Deteriorating, I
think the book said."
I had known Alpha a long time and I thought I knew how much of her talk to
discount, but I began to worry about Sue-lynn. Maybe this was a disturbance
that was more fundamental than the usual run of the mill that I had met up
with. Maybe a child can smile a soft, contented smile and still have little
maggots of madness flourishing somewhere inside.
Or, by gorry! I said to myself defiantly, maybe she does have an Anything
Box. Maybe she is looking at something precious. Who am I to say no to
anything like that?
An Anything Box! What could you see in an Anything Box? Heart's desire? I
felt my own heart lurch—just a little—the next time Sue-lynn's hands curved. I
breathed deeply to hold me in my chair. If it was her Anything Box, I wouldn't
be able to see my heart's desire in it. Or would I? I propped my cheek up on
my hand and doodled aimlessly on my time schedule sheet. How on earth, I
wondered—not for the first time—do I manage to get myself off on these
tangents?
Then I felt a small presence at my elbow and turned to meet Sue-lynn's wide
eyes.
"Teacher?" The word was hardly more than a breath.
"Yes?" I could tell that for some reason Sue-lynn was loving me dearly at
the moment. Maybe because her group had gone into new books that morning.
Maybe because I had noticed her new dress, the ruffles of which made her feel
very feminine and lovable, or maybe just because the late autumn sun lay so
golden across her desk. Anyway, she was loving me to overflowing, and since,
unlike most of the children, she had no casual hugs or easy moist kisses, she
was bringing her love to me in her encompassing hands.
"See my box, Teacher? It's my Anything Box."
"Oh, my!" I said. "May I hold it?"
After all, I have held—tenderly or apprehensively or bravely—tiger magic,
live rattlesnakes, dragon's teeth, poor little dead butterflies and two ears
and a nose that dropped off Sojie one cold morning—none of which I could see
any more than I could the Anything Box. But I took the squareness from her
carefully, my tenderness showing in my fingers and my face.
And I received weight and substance and actuality!
Almost I let it slip out of my surprised fingers, but Sue-lynn's
apprehensive breath helped me catch it and I curved my fingers around the
precious warmness and looked down, down, past a faint shimmering, down into
Sue-lynn's Anything Box.
I was running barefoot through the whispering grass. The swirl of my skirts
caught the daisies as I rounded the gnarled apple tree at the corner. The warm
wind lay along each of my cheeks and chuckled in my ears. My heart outstripped
my flying feet and melted with a rush of delight into warmness as his arms—
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, my palms tight against the Anything
Box. "I
t's beautiful!" I whispered. "It's wonderful, Sue-lynn. Where did you
get it?"
Her hands took it back hastily. "It's mine," she said defiantly. "It's
mine."
"Of course," I said. "Be careful now. Don't drop it."
She smiled faintly as she sketched a motion to her pocket. "I won't." She
patted the flat pocket on her way back to her seat.
Next day she was afraid to look at me at first for fear I might say
something or look something or in some way remind her of what must seem like a
betrayal to her now, but after I only smiled my usual smile, with no added
secret knowledge, she relaxed.
A night or so later when I leaned over my moon-drenched window sill and let
the shadow of my hair hide my face from such ebullient glory, I remembered the
Anything Box. Could I make one for myself? Could I square off this aching
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waiting, this outreaching, this silent cry inside me, and make it into anAnything Box? I freed my hands and brought them together, thumb to thumb,framing a part of the horizon's darkness between my upright forefingers. Istared into the empty square until my eyes watered. I sighed, and laughed alittle, and let my hands frame my face as I leaned out into the night. To havemagic so near—to feel it tingle off my fingertips and then to be so bound thatI couldn't receive it. I turned away from the window—turning my back onbrightness.
It wasn't long after this that Alpha succeeded in putting sharp points ofworry back in my thoughts of Sue-lynn. We had ground duty together, and onemorning when we shivered while the kids ran themselves rosy in the crisp air,she sizzed in my ear.
"Which one is it? The abnormal one, I mean."
"I don't have any abnormal children," I said, my voice sharpening beforethe sentence ended because I suddenly realized whom she meant.
"Well, I call it abnormal to stare at nothing." You could almost taste theacid in her words. "Who is it?"
"Sue-lynn," I said reluctantly. "She's playing on the bars now."
Alpha surveyed the upside-down Sue-lynn whose brief skirts were belled downfrom her bare pink legs and half covered her face as she swung from one of thebars by her knees. Alpha clutched her wizened, blue hands together andbreathed on them. "She looks normal enough," she said.