by Joe Stanley

II

Things were better for him at school for a few weeks, but the encounter had an effect. His parents told me that he had withdrawn into his books and that they had to practically force him to go outside to play.

A small creek ran behind their house and Bobby was catching minnows and salamanders, they told me, when Bobby got too close to a nest of ground wasps. The neighbor, a Mr. Danforth, ran to Bobby’s aid.

While his mother tried to treat the many bites and stings, Bobby cried and said he hated them because they were mean.

There was that magic word and I totally missed it.

“Then, Mr Danforth said they won’t bother me again and went to his shed. He got a gasoline can. He poured it in the ground and dropped a match,” Bobby told me.

“It blew up!” he said with wide, excited eyes.

Mr Danforth, since then, had become Bobby’s friend and taught him to play chess. “He was good at first, but he doesn’t win much anymore. Chess is not won because you do something clever,” he told me, “it’s because the other person made a mistake.”

And here again, I did not recognize the importance of what he said.

He told me that Mr Danforth had children that had grown up and moved away. He said that Danforth would only say good things about them, but it made him sad, too, even though he tried to hide it.

“I asked him why they had to move away,” he told me, “He said it was because they wanted to have their own lives. It makes me think about when I will have to move away.”

“Oh,” I asked, “and what do you think about that?”

“It makes me sad.”

“Yes, it is a little sad, but it’s exciting too. And by that time, I think, you’ll feel a little different.”

“I hope not,” he said with a touch of melancholy in his voice, “because if it hurts my parents like it does Mr. Danforth, it’s mean. I don’t want to be mean.”

“Bobby, your parents love you. It may be sad, but they want to see where you’ll go. I also think you’ll do big things someday.”

“That,” he observed, “means I have to be mean.”

“No, Bobby, but maybe you won’t really understand for a while. But that’s still a good way off, so try to no worry about it, okay?”

“I think, you’re right. I’ll know more before then, but I’d do anything to keep from hurting them.”

If only I had known what he really meant in saying that.

“You’re a good person Bobby, and a great kid.”

He told me about the things he had studied. He had moved on to economics. His father had taught him a little about the stock market. He said it was kind of boring because he had to read a lot about the news and weather. When he was ready, his father had let him choose a stock and invested one hundred dollars in it for him.

“It’s worth more now,” he told me offhandedly. That was quite the understatement.

According to his father, Bobby’s picks were phenomenally successful. Mark was even looking at an early retirement because of it. “If he keeps doing this,” he told me, “he will never want for money.”

“He can go to any college he wants, no scholarship or loan required,” he beamed.

While I felt this turn of events was somewhat questionable, I could hardly argue with the boy’s results. As I would find out, Bobby had written a computer program to gather the data he needed. His financial success was automated and the family was raking money in like clockwork.

As much as I was pleased to hear of this good fortune, I also feared the effect it was having on the family. I suspected that Bobby was trying to forestall his departure by making his family wealthy. I was disappointed in a way to see the new clothes and jewelry the Holgers wore.

But, then again, I had no Idea where things were going or any idea how those concerns were like nothing in comparison.

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