What Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

welcome to recite with me.” He shifted his grin to Asa and held out a very old book.
    â€œJoel is going to recite a poem,” she explained. As Asa made no move, she took the book herself and thumbed through it. “Something by Eugene Field, wasn’t it?”
    Joel nodded. “ ‘Little Boy Blue,’” he said. “Not the nursery rhyme with the ‘come blow your horn’ stuff. This is a really neat poem. We can say it together, if you like. That would be fun. We can practice so we match. Like the Everly Brothers.”
    Mrs. Brock winced slightly. “That might, well, be a little much , boys. I mean, two voices in unison would sort of draw attention away from the—the lonesome sadness of the single child passing away, you see. Break up the effect. But maybe you could alternate stanzas….”She held the book out to Asa. He had no choice but to take it.
    â€œSure!” said Joel.
    Asa frowned into the text. “Well,” he heard himself say, “okay. Thanks.”
    At home, in his room alone, he thought of a dozen things he would rather do for the show than recite a poem called “Little Boy Blue” with Joel. Each inspired him to get up and go to the telephone. He even looked up Mrs. Brock’s number. Look , he would tell her, I want to juggle large chrome rings , or I want to present the calls of twenty birds , or I want to play my guitar . He would make a point of sounding very simply excited, as if Joel did not enter into it at all, as if his own sheer creativity were driving him to nix the deal he had made that afternoon.
    The only thing that made Asa pause before dialing Mrs. Brock’s number was the fact that he could not juggle, he could not imitate the calls of birds, he owned no guitar. There was no doubt in his mind that he could scramble and master one of these tasks by the time he needed to perform; he could do anything he thought of doing, he was certain. But Joel hadtold him Mrs. Brock asked the other students to give a quick demonstration of their tricks so that she could approve or redirect their showmanship. In fact, she had suggested that two of them make changes: Susan, a haughty, religious girl, had wanted to sing three Baptist hymns; but she could not carry a tune, so she was now slated to recite three psalms; and Peter, whose voice-and-gesture impressions of John Wayne, President Eisenhower, and Ed Sullivan had all seemed exactly alike, was now going to sing “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and “The Streets of Laredo” while dressed as a cowboy. However , Joel reported with ecstasy, however , Asa was approved without audition to recite “Little Boy Blue.” Imagine! Well, Asa, who had a feeling Mrs. Brock knew she was taking a pretty slim risk in letting him mumble a few lines unapproved, did not want to test that faith. He had a feeling it would not extend to juggling and birdcalls.
    He sat in his room looking out the window. Outside, the moon sat high and round and white in the dense, dark sky. The moon was isolated, touching nothing, having no effect on thedarkness around it; it seemed as if any minute the vastly greater darkness would simply take over, and the moon would be no more. Yet down in his backyard a small apple tree was casting a thick shadow on the lawn. The shadow was there because the tree was standing in the way of the moonlight, which shone bright as lightning on everything in sight. How could this be? How could the moonlight get all the way here through the sky without leaving some silver trace? Asa felt his curiosity and intelligence quicken, and he knew he could figure it out in time, and after he did, he would love moonlight. From insight to love was not a big step.
    This is what he was good at, he realized. This is what he did . He placed himself in the world, and the world drew his thoughts outside himself, where they multiplied and spiraled and led him in silent, thrilling flights. And as