![]() It's a sublime moment that even finding the terrified Charlie doesn't surpass, nor Joe's invitation to a dance. Dismayed because she's learned he was innocent, she hesitates over the words to say so, whereupon Joe tells her a story - of a guru who for twenty-eight years has been searching for some great wise word - and she gets the point and, smiling, says she's sorry. Then Charlie gets lost and Joe, a gentle knight plus something of a saint, insists on helping Sara find him. Now that I'm not anything (pretty or smart or athletic), ten-year-old Charlie is retarded and everyone else is contemptible - especially classmate Joe Melby, suspected of having taken Charlie's prized wristwatch. For fourteen years she had loved her sister without envy, her aunt without finding her coarse, her brother without pity. ![]() With increasing frequency juvenile fiction is contracting to the dimensions of a short story and the endoskeleton (dialogue, stage directions, asides to the audience) of drama - of which the climax to Sara's season of discontent is a good example. ![]()
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