Even in pictures all but the most ancient had wheels or airfloats, and the biometal arms were at least sheathed. The half ball was studded with lenses and bristled with sensor wires. It had six legs like an insect and no faceplate but only a turret like half a ball where an insect's head would be. She pulled aside a laurel branch for a better view.Ī lone robot came walking down the road. Down the hill, to the left, something was moving. When they had rounded the bend and their backs were to her, she pushed her way out of the thicket. Two boys were running on the track that encircled the parklike campus. There was cheering in the distance the Saturday afternoon game was in progress. No workmen were in sight.Īt the top of the long slope the walls and the white buildings of the Academy were visible through the trees.
She got up, brushed off the seat of her pants, and looked around.
They might see her and wonder what she was doing out here, alone. Probably some of the ground crew cleaning up dead branches. The noise was metallic, rhythmic, and coming closer. She held her breath to listen and absent-mindedly pocketed the tissue wad. Just as she sniffed she heard a strange sound. With an already damp wad of tissue she mopped her face and blew her nose, determined to regain self-control. But all adults agreed that her eyes were her best feature-large, dark, and fringed by long curly black lashes. Sometimes her expression made adults uneasy they suspected she understood too much for her age, which was twelve. Her ears had once stuck out too far but her grandmother had had that corrected shortly after her birth. She had an acceptable nose and a determined chin. Her dark hair went nicely with her tan skin. So Toby would say good-bye to everyone and move again. Lillian was The Boss and her word was law to Toby's parents. If her grandmother Lillian said she had to change schools, she had to change schools. "This is stupid," she told herself sternly and sat erect. The backs of her legs were being poked by a stiff yellow fungus that grew in fanlike steps up the dead bark. The dampness of the rotting log was seeping through the seat of her pants.
She hated dramatics and so had chosen to hide. Embarrassed by this weakness, she knew that if anyone saw her and asked what was wrong, she would cry harder and humiliate herself completely. She hadn't intended to cry the sobs just sneaked up on her as she ran. On a gray afternoon in April Toby West sat crying in a thicket.
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