name, don't you?"
He looked at her in wide-eyed confusion. "Headmaster?"
"You know, honey, the principal. Didn't I tell you his name?"
The puzzlement faded from Sam's face. "Oh, yeah," he said, shifting his knapsack to his other shoulder. It's Doctor something."
"Doctor what?" But as soon as Peggy said it, she remembered. "Doctor Whalen," she said, pronouncing the name very softly. "But you understand he's not a regular doctor."
"Oh, sure," Sam said. "That's okay. I don't mind."
Finally it was their turn at the top of the stairs. Was she being paranoid, or had Wendell-Briggs whispered some quick comment about her and Sam to the headmaster? Jesus, I'm coming unglued, Peggy thought miserably. Why, Wendell-Briggs had practically told her Sam was a prodigy, had scarcely been able to say enough about how happy the school was to have him. Obviously Sam was welcome here; obviously he'd be up to snuff. Obviously Wendell-Briggs wasn't standing there making nasty remarks about him! Why on earth else would he have been accepted under such extraordinary circumstances, bypassing all the regular procedures.
"... a real pleasure to meet your son," Dr. Whalen was saying, hiding, she could have sworn, a look of cool appraisal underneath his impeccably cordial expression. What she could not have known—what would have dumbfounded her to learn—was that Whalen was at that very moment wondering with passionate curiosity who it was who'd made the anonymous five-hundred-thousand-dollar contribution to the school's development fund, expressing at the same time the mild hope that a Sam Cooper might be admitted to this fall's first grade class, however unorthodox such a move might be. Well, the tests they'd run on him showed he really was bright as hell—clearly St. Martin's material—and what were a few bent rules in the face of half-a-million dollars.
He and Wendell-Briggs finished exchanging the routine pleasantries with Cooper and his mother, who seemed to Whalen's practiced eye to be exhibiting more than the usual first-day-of-school maternal separation anxieties. Maybe she knew about the—ah, should he say, inducement—that had secured Sam's admission and was feeling a little embarrassed. Not that this was the first time such a thing had happened, God knew. It just didn't usually happen with such an unimportant family.
For her part, Peggy read not a bit of the thoughts that were running through the man's mind. She hadn't given much thought to the matter of Sam's getting into this place so effortlessly and at such a late date—she had a genius on her hands, it seemed, and she'd just have to get used to the fact that his path was bound to be radically different from that of ordinary kids.
Suddenly she felt him tugging at her skirt, and realized that it was time for him to enter the august portals of St. Martin's and begin his very first day of school. "Oh, Sam," she said, bending down to give him the briefest of hugs—no need to humiliate him in front of all his little macho schoolmates. "You have a wonderful day, you hear? I can't wait for a full report."
He disengaged himself as quickly as possible and turned to enter the school. In the dim recesses of the school's foyer she spotted a tall, imposing woman who seemed to be waiting for him—was it his teacher, perhaps?—but the light wasn't clear enough for Peggy to make out her features. Suddenly filled with feeling—her first and only child was taking one hell of a big step today—Peggy took a deep breath to steady herself, then marched resolutely down the street towards the subway.
***
By afternoon Peggy's characteristic ebullience had returned in full force. The jitters and dread that had dominated and all but spoiled the morning had lifted entirely. She reminded herself of their excellent luck, of all the wonderful things that had been happening to them, all the things she and Hal had to be thankful for. Peggy even forgot about the drawings and what they might
He looked at her in wide-eyed confusion. "Headmaster?"
"You know, honey, the principal. Didn't I tell you his name?"
The puzzlement faded from Sam's face. "Oh, yeah," he said, shifting his knapsack to his other shoulder. It's Doctor something."
"Doctor what?" But as soon as Peggy said it, she remembered. "Doctor Whalen," she said, pronouncing the name very softly. "But you understand he's not a regular doctor."
"Oh, sure," Sam said. "That's okay. I don't mind."
Finally it was their turn at the top of the stairs. Was she being paranoid, or had Wendell-Briggs whispered some quick comment about her and Sam to the headmaster? Jesus, I'm coming unglued, Peggy thought miserably. Why, Wendell-Briggs had practically told her Sam was a prodigy, had scarcely been able to say enough about how happy the school was to have him. Obviously Sam was welcome here; obviously he'd be up to snuff. Obviously Wendell-Briggs wasn't standing there making nasty remarks about him! Why on earth else would he have been accepted under such extraordinary circumstances, bypassing all the regular procedures.
"... a real pleasure to meet your son," Dr. Whalen was saying, hiding, she could have sworn, a look of cool appraisal underneath his impeccably cordial expression. What she could not have known—what would have dumbfounded her to learn—was that Whalen was at that very moment wondering with passionate curiosity who it was who'd made the anonymous five-hundred-thousand-dollar contribution to the school's development fund, expressing at the same time the mild hope that a Sam Cooper might be admitted to this fall's first grade class, however unorthodox such a move might be. Well, the tests they'd run on him showed he really was bright as hell—clearly St. Martin's material—and what were a few bent rules in the face of half-a-million dollars.
He and Wendell-Briggs finished exchanging the routine pleasantries with Cooper and his mother, who seemed to Whalen's practiced eye to be exhibiting more than the usual first-day-of-school maternal separation anxieties. Maybe she knew about the—ah, should he say, inducement—that had secured Sam's admission and was feeling a little embarrassed. Not that this was the first time such a thing had happened, God knew. It just didn't usually happen with such an unimportant family.
For her part, Peggy read not a bit of the thoughts that were running through the man's mind. She hadn't given much thought to the matter of Sam's getting into this place so effortlessly and at such a late date—she had a genius on her hands, it seemed, and she'd just have to get used to the fact that his path was bound to be radically different from that of ordinary kids.
Suddenly she felt him tugging at her skirt, and realized that it was time for him to enter the august portals of St. Martin's and begin his very first day of school. "Oh, Sam," she said, bending down to give him the briefest of hugs—no need to humiliate him in front of all his little macho schoolmates. "You have a wonderful day, you hear? I can't wait for a full report."
He disengaged himself as quickly as possible and turned to enter the school. In the dim recesses of the school's foyer she spotted a tall, imposing woman who seemed to be waiting for him—was it his teacher, perhaps?—but the light wasn't clear enough for Peggy to make out her features. Suddenly filled with feeling—her first and only child was taking one hell of a big step today—Peggy took a deep breath to steady herself, then marched resolutely down the street towards the subway.
***
By afternoon Peggy's characteristic ebullience had returned in full force. The jitters and dread that had dominated and all but spoiled the morning had lifted entirely. She reminded herself of their excellent luck, of all the wonderful things that had been happening to them, all the things she and Hal had to be thankful for. Peggy even forgot about the drawings and what they might
Similar Books
