concentrate. I myself have serious emotional difficulties so I have this problem.
As part of my Science Project I will talk about serious emotional problems. I will tell you what someone named Freud says about this.
The division of the psychical into what is conscious and what is unconscious is the fundamental premise of psycho-analysis; and it alone makes it possible for psycho-analysis to understand the pathological processes in mental life, which are as common as they are important, and to find a place for them in the framework of science.
Anastasia read aloud what she had written. She glanced at the gerbils. They were both asleep in the nests they had built. She looked at Frank Goldfish. He swam in a circle, opening and closing his mouth. She could tell that he was amused.
"Quit being so arrogant, Frank," she said angrily. "Just wait till you're thirteen.
Then
you won't be so well adjusted."
4
"Is it Saturday, Mom?" asked Sam anxiously as he ate his breakfast cereal. "Promise me that it's Saturday?"
"I promise," said Mrs. Krupnik. "It's Saturday. All day."
"Good," said Sam, as he took another bite of Rice Krispies. "I love Saturday. Because on Saturday I don't have to go to nursery school."
Anastasia was sitting on the kitchen floor, lacing up her hiking boots. She'd had to unlace them completely to put them on because she was wearing two pairs of thick wool socks; it was suddenly very cold outside for mid-October. "Why?" she asked her brother. "I thought you loved nursery school. You like those blocks with the letters on them."
But Sam shook his head gloomily. "My friend Nicky takes the blocks and throws them. I'm scared of Nicky. My friend Nicky punches me and kicks me."
"Some friend," said Anastasia, tugging at her boot laces.
"Nicky does
what?
" Mrs. Krupnik put her cup of coffee down on the table and stared at Sam.
"Punches," said Sam. "And kicks."
"Myron, did you hear that?" asked Mrs. Krupnik. "Myron, stop reading the paper for a minute. Did you hear what Sam just said?"
Reluctantly, Dr. Krupnik lowered his newspaper. "Have you read this article about the possibility of a nuclear disaster here in Massachusetts?" he asked.
"No," said Katherine Krupnik. "I have enough problems right here in this house. Did you hear what Sam just told us? There's a child in his nursery school who beats him up!"
"Nicky," said Sam cheerfully. "Nicky punches and kicks. And
bites,
too. Look!" He pulled up the sleeve of his striped jersey. On the side of his arm was a small pink semicircle of teeth marks.
"Myron! Look at this!" Mrs Krupnik examined Sam's arm with dismay.
Dr. Krupnik adjusted his glasses and took a look. "It didn't break the skin," he said. He began to pick up the newspaper again.
"What is Nicky's full name, Sam?" Mrs. Krupnik asked angrily. She was reaching for the telephone book.
Sam thought about that, wrinkling his forehead as he munched on his cereal. "Big fat ugly Nicky," he said, finally.
Anastasia giggled. "Mom meant
last
name, Sam," she
explained. "Like your last name is Krupnik. What's Nicky's last name?"
Sam thought. "Coletti," he said. "Nicky Coletti."
Anastasia stood up and stamped her feet to make sure her boots were just right. "Sounds like Mafia to me," she said. "Definitely underworld. If you call Nicky's mother, Mom, probably thugs will come to the house and break both your legs."
Sam grinned.
Mrs. Krupnik was running her finger down the page of C's in the telephone book. "Cohen," she murmured. "Colby. Coleman—"
Dr. Krupnik put the newspaper down again. "Don't call her, Katherine," he said.
"Is that an order?" asked his wife angrily.
"No, it's a suggestion. Don't you remember what happened when Anastasia was about seven, and she came home one day crying because her friend—What was that little girl's name, Anastasia?"
"Traci," said Anastasia. "It was Traci Beckwith, that little fink."
"Right," said her father. "Traci Beckwith had pushed Anastasia off a swing in the