R is for Rocket by Ray Bradbury jun.2014 | Page 16

He looked at me.

"You know, Christopher, you're king-of-the-hill here; head of the class".

He closed his eyes and mused over it.

"We'll have to see about a lot of other things" he concluded.

Then he patted me on the shoulder.

"Well get on with your work. Nothing to worry about."

He walked away.

I tried to get back to work, but I couldn't.

During the rest of the day the teacher kept watching me and looking at my tab-record and chewing his lip. About two in the afternoon he dialed a number on his desk-audio and discussed something with somebody for about five minutes. I couldn't hear what was said.

But when he set the audio into its cradle, he stared straight at me with the funniest light in his eyes. It was envy and admiration and pity all in one. It was a little sad and it was much of happiness. It had a lot in it, just in his eyes. The rest of his face said nothing.

It made me feel like a saint and a devil sitting there.

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