Chapter 28: Stolen Knowledge

My newly found love of reading conspired with my paper route to destroy my first year of high school. I was up each morning before dawn and was dressed while the rest of the household still slept. In winter months, as I set out to do my route, stars filled the back sky.

It was a one mile trek into the center of town to pick up a fresh stack of Worcester Telegram and Gazette newspapers. It was a peaceful journey. In the predawn darkness, I was usually the only person on the streets.

One February morning, the thermometer was hovering around ten degrees below zero. My head was down as I crunched through a fresh snowfall. Suddenly the ground beneath my feet started to sparkle and glow.

Startled, I stopped dead in my tracks and looked up just in time to see a brilliant fireball sail across the starry sky and vanish over the western horizon. In the wake of its passing, a sparkling contrail of fireflies marked its path across the heavens. The trail lingered for several minutes.

My route was laid out in such a way that my last stop was a corner store. I used that stop to warm up in the winter and kill time before the start of school.

The store had an enormous collection of magazines and several displays of paperback books in revolving wire racks. Each morning I would review the selection of books and since I was usually broke, I would sneak a book into my carrier’s bag.

My books of choice were usually science fiction, and I followed all the classic authors of the day: Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury, Philip K. Dick, Kurt Vonnegut, and more.

Instead of stealing, I considered it as unauthorized borrowing on the honor system. I always returned the same book the next day in pristine condition. I would pay for the book if I damaged or lost it.

The owner of the involuntary lending library was a kindly fat man who must have weighed in at three hundred and fifty plus pounds. Over time, he became an adopted parent.

I thought my clever book borrowing was a secret. One morning, the store owner watched me spin the book rack for the third or fourth time as I searched in vain for a title to borrow.

“Dennis, you might want to check the boxes on the floor for a book to steal. I haven’t had time to unpack and rack them yet,” he said.

My heart nearly stopped as I felt a wave of fear come over me.

As I started to sputter an explanation, the owner said, “Don’t say a thing. I’ve been watching you for the last two weeks. Every day I see you steal a book and every day you return a book. Am I right?”

Looking down at the floor, I answered, “Yes.”

“What I want to know is this: do you read the books that you, err, borrow?”

Again, I looked down at the floor and answered, “Yes.”

“The stealing ends today. No more sneaking around, from now on you will show me which title you want to borrow. Your payment will be to help me to unpack and rack the books. Is that clear enough?” he asked.

Looking him in the eye, I answered, “Yes.”

I was in heaven. I now had an unending source of reading material.

Each day I took my borrowed book to school. I would sit in the back of class, insert the book in my textbook and read. I would read during lunch and study hall. I read every chance I got. I read everything except the assigned lessons.

As it turned out, Science Fiction, by its very nature, was an excellent foundation for a general education as it covers everything from anthropology to astrophysics.

The novels touched on thousands of subjects. As I read, I explored the topics of sociology, history, biology, and more. I had found a total immersion form of escape and I loved every minute of it.

On the other hand, my grades plunged like a stock market crash. I loved learning but I hated school. My first year was an utter and complete disaster as I failed one test after another. I finished the term by flunking every course except one. I managed to pass English with the grade of D-.

Despite my miserable grades, my school proficiency and aptitude tests continued to improve. The Wechsler Intelligence Scale, the Differential Ability Scale, and assorted Language Proficiency Tests all returned better than average placements, and a couple of tests pegged me somewhere in the ninetieth percentile range.

According to the results, I had the vocabulary of a college sophomore, reading comprehension of a college junior, and the spelling ability of a failing third grader.

The more tests I took, the more tests the guidance department assigned. The counselors seemed to take a particular interest in my case. I felt like I was a pet lab rat stuck on a fill-in-the-dots treadmill.

My skills splattered in all directions like a bug on the windshield. I was genius level stupid.