straw, to try to read with that drip, drip happening and the frowsy house smelling of age and poverty, the house they could have because nobody else wanted it.
"It's nasty outside," Bella said.
"It's nastier inside," Roan said, and flung his book across the room. "I'm through."
"You haven't even started," Raff said. "Sit back down." Roan stood at bay before his parents. Bella set her bone-white lips and began picking irritably at the shedding skin on her thin arm, and Raff tried to work up a temper over the boy, but he couldn't. He's beautiful, Raff thought. No other word for it. Beautiful. Standing there tall for his ten years and glowing in his anger and with the dark red curls tumbling over his forehead.
"Everything," Roan shouted. "I have to do everything the hard way. I'm tired of it. They don't study, study, study. They know how to read just looking at the graffiti."
"They're only gracyls," Raff said. "Charons know how to build mud houses without learning. It's the same thing."
"I want to do whatever it is humans know how to do without learning. A two thousand credit Man ought to be able to do something." Raff pounded his right fist into his left hand and wished he could flex words the way he could flex his hands. "I've tried to make you understand. I don't know how to say it so's you'll see. Humans are superior, but that doesn't mean everything's easy for you. But you can do things no gracyl can do—"
"One thing humans don't do is read," Roan interrupted. "I hate reading."
"But you can read good," Bella said. "You read better than me. Better than Raff. And you can read Gracyl and Universal and those Terran books we kept for you."
"I know he can read good," Raff cut in. "I want him to read better. Good isn't enough."
"Humans aren't superior," Roan said. "They're—"
"That's enough, boy," Raff said sharply. He rocked in his chair, watching Roan sliding his foot in a puddle of rainwater on the floor. Bella went to the crockery shelf and took down a bowl to put under the leak in the roof.
"Suppose you can't read for Studies? You'll get sent away from home with the Junior Apprentices."
Raff frowned, watching her mop up the floor with the dish towel. "Of course he can read good enough for Studies. If only he don't trip up on a word we haven't come across in the gracyl graffiti yet. Even so, a gracyl that develops seventy per cent literacy goes for Studies. Roan's reached that by now."
Bella straightened painfully from the floor and rubbed at her shedding skin with the dish towel. She looked at Roan and bit at her lip, an old gesture that had once even been cute.
"He's been working so hard, Raff. Maybe we ought to let up on him some." Roan went to the door.
"Here! Where you going, Son?"
Roan looked defiantly at Raff. "I'm going to do what humans can do and gracyls can't. And it isn't reading and it's not flying." And he was out of the door into the rain.
"Raff, stop him!"
"Don't worry. He's human. He knows what to do even if he doesn't know he knows."
They both sat by the strip of cloudy plastiflex window and watched the rain on the garbage dump, waiting. They didn't reach for each other any more. Only for the boy.
The ten yearers were hilarious with the game of swoop ball in the rain when Roan came over the hill in sight of them. It was a simple game. The idea was to keep hold of the ball. They played in a grove of scattered trees, and whoever decided to take the ball would swoop down on whoever had it and take it away and then another would swoop down and take it from the second one, if possible in mid-air. And when you took the ball, you also knocked the gracyl out of the air, which was easy, and if possible into the yard-deep ditch of muddy water that ran along the edge of the little grove. Roan leaped lightly across the muddy ditch.
The gracyls were delighted to see him. The gracyl with the ball tossed it to him and then four of them swooped straight at him and their momentum shoved him back,
"It's nasty outside," Bella said.
"It's nastier inside," Roan said, and flung his book across the room. "I'm through."
"You haven't even started," Raff said. "Sit back down." Roan stood at bay before his parents. Bella set her bone-white lips and began picking irritably at the shedding skin on her thin arm, and Raff tried to work up a temper over the boy, but he couldn't. He's beautiful, Raff thought. No other word for it. Beautiful. Standing there tall for his ten years and glowing in his anger and with the dark red curls tumbling over his forehead.
"Everything," Roan shouted. "I have to do everything the hard way. I'm tired of it. They don't study, study, study. They know how to read just looking at the graffiti."
"They're only gracyls," Raff said. "Charons know how to build mud houses without learning. It's the same thing."
"I want to do whatever it is humans know how to do without learning. A two thousand credit Man ought to be able to do something." Raff pounded his right fist into his left hand and wished he could flex words the way he could flex his hands. "I've tried to make you understand. I don't know how to say it so's you'll see. Humans are superior, but that doesn't mean everything's easy for you. But you can do things no gracyl can do—"
"One thing humans don't do is read," Roan interrupted. "I hate reading."
"But you can read good," Bella said. "You read better than me. Better than Raff. And you can read Gracyl and Universal and those Terran books we kept for you."
"I know he can read good," Raff cut in. "I want him to read better. Good isn't enough."
"Humans aren't superior," Roan said. "They're—"
"That's enough, boy," Raff said sharply. He rocked in his chair, watching Roan sliding his foot in a puddle of rainwater on the floor. Bella went to the crockery shelf and took down a bowl to put under the leak in the roof.
"Suppose you can't read for Studies? You'll get sent away from home with the Junior Apprentices."
Raff frowned, watching her mop up the floor with the dish towel. "Of course he can read good enough for Studies. If only he don't trip up on a word we haven't come across in the gracyl graffiti yet. Even so, a gracyl that develops seventy per cent literacy goes for Studies. Roan's reached that by now."
Bella straightened painfully from the floor and rubbed at her shedding skin with the dish towel. She looked at Roan and bit at her lip, an old gesture that had once even been cute.
"He's been working so hard, Raff. Maybe we ought to let up on him some." Roan went to the door.
"Here! Where you going, Son?"
Roan looked defiantly at Raff. "I'm going to do what humans can do and gracyls can't. And it isn't reading and it's not flying." And he was out of the door into the rain.
"Raff, stop him!"
"Don't worry. He's human. He knows what to do even if he doesn't know he knows."
They both sat by the strip of cloudy plastiflex window and watched the rain on the garbage dump, waiting. They didn't reach for each other any more. Only for the boy.
The ten yearers were hilarious with the game of swoop ball in the rain when Roan came over the hill in sight of them. It was a simple game. The idea was to keep hold of the ball. They played in a grove of scattered trees, and whoever decided to take the ball would swoop down on whoever had it and take it away and then another would swoop down and take it from the second one, if possible in mid-air. And when you took the ball, you also knocked the gracyl out of the air, which was easy, and if possible into the yard-deep ditch of muddy water that ran along the edge of the little grove. Roan leaped lightly across the muddy ditch.
The gracyls were delighted to see him. The gracyl with the ball tossed it to him and then four of them swooped straight at him and their momentum shoved him back,
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