Heart's Desire Read Online Free PDF

school together Brandt had the longest-running crush in history on me. He was nice enough, but what a geek, from the safety goggles on his head all the way down to the reflective stripes on his sneakers!
    I must admit, however, that like Pinocchio before him, Brandt’s turned into a real boy. Almost a man, actually. He’s left behind the vague shape of adolescence, with its gangly appendages interrupted by pointy outcroppings, and appears to have developed honest-to-goodness shoulders, and arm muscles, too. There’s also a slight shadow above his lip that indicates shaving has become part of his daily regimen. Even the trombone voice, though not particularly deep, has finally steadied and settled into a more or less appropriate octave.
    “I was afraid that you were going to take that internship in Buffalo, and I’d be stuck with the yard again,” says Brandt. “I can’t figure out how to keep the mower from stalling out and I’ve got an incredible research job at the community college working with a professor on a physiology paper.” He nods toward his tank. “I’ve been accepted at Massachusetts Institute of Technology for fall.”
    “Congratulations!” I say. Though more out of goodwill than surprise. I mean, if MIT had turned Brandt down they would have had a lot to answer for when he eventually picked up his science prize in Norway.
    “Brandt received a full academic scholarship,” Olivia adds proudly.
    “Yeah, but I can easily work off my rent and books as an assistant in the lab,” he quickly adds.
    I think how nice it would be if I could work off some of my tuition in a lab. But the only way that is going to happen is if they need a human guinea pig. There
must
be a way to make some real money this summer. At least there was the weekly poker game. At school no one is much interested in poker, unless it’s strip poker. Though I’d managed to win a couple hundred bucks playing hearts. Of course, there’s always the racetrack. Even though I’m still not old enough to place a bet, they never ask for ID, unlike the sticklers at OTB. And if worse comes to worst, I can call my old friend Cappy the bookie, who’s always been impressed with my talent for probability theory and happens to be interested in setting up a rebate shop. These are betting parlors on Indian reservations and offshore locations reached via Internet, where high-rollers receive a small percentage back whether they win or lose. For a brief moment I imagine myself working from a bamboo hut overlooking a gorgeous white sand beach and sipping chocolate Yoo-hoo from a bottle with a brightly colored paper umbrella sticking out of the top.
    “Okay!” Bernard appears in the archway and smacks his hands together as if he’s leading a motivation workshop and it’s time to break into discussion groups. “Old home week is over.”
    Rocky has returned from outside and enters the dining room frantically waving his arms at Brandt just the way he had done with me. Only Brandt motions back to him, as if they’re playing Simon Says. “Rocky says that he’s happy you’re home,” Brandt translates.
    “Oh really?” I’m aware that Rocky is glad to see me but I’m skeptical of the word-for-word translation.
    “It transpires that Brandt discovered Rocky knows some sign language,” explains Olivia. “So he contacted Rocky’s former trainer and asked for a copy of his operating manual. In addition to being an accomplished bartender, Rocky apparently learned over fifty signals and can practically communicate like a person.”
    But it’s obvious that at the present time Bernard has no patience for stupid chimp tricks. “Rocky speaks!” he says sarcastically, referring to the hullabaloo made when his beloved Greta Garbo made her first talking film. Bernard has an antique “Garbo Speaks!” movie poster behind the register down at the shop that is clearly marked NOT FOR SALE.
    “It’s really amazing,” says Brandt. “He knows at least