Bittersweet Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

told them, “you’ll lose control of her. Like conniving, manipulative little lawyers, profoundly gifted children find loopholes in all the rules you lay down. If you tell her it’s time to turn off her lamp and you don’t add ‘and go to sleep,’ she might turn off the lamp but switch on a flashlight and continue doing what she was doing.”
    â€œWhat are you saying? You’re making her sound dangerous or at least like a burden,” my mother countered. “Why this sudden change?”
    For some reason, she didn’t mention my reference to her possibly having an orgasm. Maybe she really was and was ashamed or shocked that I had discovered it.
    â€œI’m just telling you what I know,” Fish Face responded, a bit sullenly.
    Both my parents were quite upset with Fish Face after that, and neither of them really heeded her words when it came to how they treated me or evaluated anything I did or said.
    All of it was quite a learning experience for me, but then again, just about everything in my life was.
    â€œThe world is my classroom,” I often said. Some people would smile, but most would look at me as if I had just stepped off a spaceship. “She really is Mr. Spock!”
    I knew that calling the world a classroom sounded boring, but if there was one thing I never was, it was bored.
    Maybe if I were once in a while, I’d have been happier or, as my stepmother said, normal, because I’d look for amusement instead of information.
    â€œIt’s normal to want to have fun once in a while more than you want to have facts,” Julie said one time. She laughed and added, “That’s been my life’s motto, Mayfair. When in doubt, have fun, and you can’t be any more normal than I am.”
    I wanted to reply, “If you’re what is considered normal, I’m signing up for Abnormals R Us.” But I wasn’t quite at the stage where I would confront her head-on instead of subtly or with words and analogies she would never understand.
    I did think, however, that something was missing inside me, something that might be necessary in order for someone to be happy with herself. It was true that I was not happy most of the time, and I was envious of girls my age who had far lower IQ scores but who looked like life was just one exciting roller-coaster ride full of screams and laughter, all happening while someone warm and handsome was holding on to you. I would think about that image very often.
    I would think about it, but I wouldn’t confess to anyone else that I lacked anything that important. I would come to realize that I was very attractive, and that bothered some girls because it seemed to them that I had everything: good looks, a great figure, a rich complexion, soft healthy hair, and brains. I was always so self-confident that I never dreamed a time would come when I would admit that anything was wrong with me, that something important was missing, especially to myself.
    I guess I didn’t know everything after all.
    Even though I was profoundly gifted.

3

    We were on our way to my special new school, Spindrift. Somebody very creative, of course, came up with that name. Students there were supposedly the crème de la crème, the best of the best, and the purpose of the school was to get them to live up to their enormous potential so that everyone would benefit from their achievements.
    Just in case someone considering the school for his or her child didn’t understand the name, the booklet explained it: “Spray blown up from an ocean wave is called spindrift. It is expected that our graduates will spray the world with their brilliance.” Can’t you just see the faces of our proud parents? Who wouldn’t want their child to spray the world with brilliance? Every word from their mouths would be dazzling.
    From the booklet, I also knew that the motto above the main entrance read: “A brilliant mind wasted is