Astounding Science Fiction (British edition) — page 96: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

94 trying to escape the also twisting threads of thought between his father and mother in the kitchen. The threads became ropes; gray-green and alive; affection turned resentment coil- ing and threatening; held back from striking only by hopelessness. He stared into the gray morning light seeping in around the shade at his window. He tried to trace the designs on the wallpaper, but they, too, be- came twisting worms of despair. And transferred again into the memory of the beating. Involuntarily, a sob escaped his throat, aloud. ““Madge!”’ this was no whisper, but his father shouting at his mother. “That kid is in there sniveling again. Pil give him something to bawl about.” The sudden terrible rage was a dead black smothering blanket. “Bob!” the sharp fear in his mother’s voice stopped the tread of feet across the kitchen floor, changing the rage back to hopelessness, He felt his father go away from his door, back to his place at the table. He felt the sudden surge of resolution in his father. “Madge, I’m going to talk to Dr. Ames this morning. He gets in early. He’s the head of the psychology de- partment. I’m going to talk to him about Joey.” Joey could feel the shame of his father at such a revelation. The shame of saying “Dr. Ames, do you think my son is crazy?” “What good will that do?” his mother’s voice was resentful, fearful; afraid of what the doctor might say. “Tl tell him all about Joey. He’ gives loony tests, and I’m going to find out about—” “Bob! Saying such a thing about your own son. It’s... it’s sinful!” His mother’s voice was high, and her chair creaked as she started to move from her side of the table. “Take it easy, Madge,” his father ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION warned her. “I’m not saying he’s crazy, mind you. I just want to get to the bottom of it. I want to know. I want a normal boy.” Then desperately, ‘Madge, I just want a boy!’ The frustration, the disappointment welled over Joey as if it were his own. “T’ll talk.to the doctor,” his father was continuing, reasoning with her. “T’ll try to get him to see Joey. I’m janitor of his building, and he shouldn’t charge me anything. Maybe he'll see you and Joey this afternoon. I'll cail you on the phone if he will. You be ready to take Joey up there if I should call.”’ The voice was stern, unbending. “Yes, Bob,” his mother recognized the inflexibility of the decision. ““Where’s my lunch pail, then?’ his father asked. “I'll get to work early, so I can have a talk with Dr. Ames before class time.” “On the sink, Bob. Where it always is,” his mother answered patiently. The sudden rage again. Always is. Always is. That’s the trouble, Madge. Everything always is. Just like yester- day, and the day before. That’s why it’s all so hopeless. But the bitterness switched suddenly to pity. “Don’t worry so, Madge,” there was a tone of near affection in his father’s voice. Belated consideration. Joey felt his father move around the table, pat his mother awkwardly on the shoulder. But still the little yellow petals of affection were torn and con- sumed by the gray-green worms of resentment. ““Bob—” his mother spoke to the closing door. The footsteps, heavy, went on down the back steps of their house, each a soundless impact upon Joey’s chest. Joey felt his mother start toward his room. Hastily he took the pillow from over his head, pulled the blanket up under his chin, dropped his chin and jaw, let his mouth open in’ the connicloooks.c© nl