Зенна Гендерсон - The Anything Box

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K:\eMule\Incoming\Zenna Henderson – The Anything Box.pdb.pdb
PDB Name:henderson, zenna – the anything Creator 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."
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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.