The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

She came back carrying the plastic bucket carefully.

“Help yourself,” she offered.

“Go ahead.”

“I drank from the creek.”

“All right” He drank deeply. “You know, Betty, if you weren’t knock-kneed, you’d be pretty good-looking.”

“Who’s knock-kneed?”

“And there’s always your face, of course,” he went on pleasantly. “Aside from those two shortcomings you’re not-”

He did not finish-she dived and hit him low. The water went all down his front and partly on her. The scuffle continued until he got her right arm locked up behind her, holding her helpless. “Say ‘Pretty please’,” he advised.

“Darn you, Johnnie Stuart! ‘Pretty please.'”

“With sugar on it?”

“With sugar on it-and spit, too. Let me up.”

“All right.”

He got to his feet. She rolled to a sitting position, looked up at him and laughed. They were both dirty, scratched, and somewhat bruised and they both felt very fine indeed. Lummox had watched the mock fight with interest but-no alarm, since Johnnie and Betty could never really be mad at each other. He commented, “Johnnie’s all wet.”

“He certainly is, Lummie-more ways than one.” She looked him over. “If I had two clothes pins, I’d hang you on a tree. By your ears, of course.”

We’ll be dry in five minutes, a day like this.”

“I’m not wet, not through a flying suit. But you look like a dunked cat.”

“I don’t mind.” He lay down, found a pine needle and bit it. “Slugger, this is a swell place. I wish I didn’t have to go on up to the mine.”

“Tell you what-after we get this mess straightened out and before we start school, we’ll come back up here and camp a few days. We’ll bring Lummox, too-won’t we, Lummie?”

“Sure,” agreed Lummox. “Catch things. Throw rocks. Fun.”

John Thomas looked at her reprovingly. “And get me talked about all over town? No, thanks.”

“Don’t be prissy. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“This is an emergency.”

“You and your nice-nice reputation!”

“Well, somebody ought to watch such things. Mum says that boys had to start worrying when girls quit. She says things used to be different”

“Of course they were-and they will be again. They run the whole program over and over again.” She looked thoughtful. “But, Johnnie, you pay too much attention to what your mother says.”

“I suppose so,” he admitted.

“You had better break yourself of it. Otherwise no girl is going to take a chance on marrying you.”

He grinned. “That’s my insurance policy.”

She dropped her eyes and blushed. “I wasn’t speaking for myself! I don’t want you-I’m just taking care of you for practice.”

He decided not to pursue that angle. “Honestly,” he said, “a person gets in the habit of behaving a certain way and it’s hard to stop. For instance, I’ve got an aunt-my Aunt Tessie, remember her? -who believes in astrology.”

“No! She doesn’t!”

“Surest thing. She doesn’t look nutty, does she? But she is and it’s embarrassing because she will talk about it and mother insists that I have to be polite. If I could just tell her she has holes in her head, it wouldn’t matter. But oh no! I have to listen to her rave and pretend that she’s a sane, responsible adult-when she can’t count above ten without an abacus.”

“An ‘abacus’?”

“You know-a slipstick with beads. I said ‘abacus’ because there isn’t a prayer that she could ever learn to read a slipstick. She likes being a lame brain-and I have to cater to it.”

“Don’t do it,” Betty said suddenly. “Pay no attention to what your mother says.”

“Slugger, you are a subversive influence.”

“Sorry, Johnnie,” she answered mildly. She added, “Did I ever tell you why I divorced my parents?”

“No, you never did. That’s your business.”

“So it is. But I think I’ll tell you, you might understand me better. Bend down.” She grabbed him by an ear, whispered into it.

As John Thomas listened he took on an expression of extreme surprise. “Not really?”

“Fact. They didn’t contest it so I never had to tell anyone. But that’s why.”

“I don’t see how you put up with it.”

“I didn’t I stood up in court and divorced them and got a professional guardian who doesn’t have nutty ideas. But look, Johnnie, I didn’t bare my soul just to make your chin drop. Heredity isn’t everything; I’m myself, an individual. You aren’t your parents. You’re not your father, you are not your mother. But you are a little late realizing it.” She sat up straight. “So be yourself, Knothead, and have the courage to make your own mess of your life. Don’t imitate somebody else’s mess.”