"So I shouldn't be afraid of the things I can do anymore than I should be afraid of making a perfect grade on a Math test?"
"That's right. I was concerned that when I told you to hide your abilities that you would think I was implying that they were something to be ashamed of. Sam, if you can do something better than anyone else, or if you can do something that no one else can do, then you are just improving what's normal, not breaking some kind of rule about what you should and shouldn't be able to do. I just want you to be discreet, because there are a lot of people who don't understand this. They think that anyone different from them is automatically bad, and anyone better than them is somehow a threat."
"So I should try not to make people jealous?"
"Jealous, envious, scared, ashamed of their own inability to measure up to you, however you want to put it — yes, that's what I mean."
"But you were just telling me not to think of myself as 'super'. Now you're telling me I need a secret identity."
"I guess I am. As long as you understand that there is nothing wrong with being 'super' and why having a 'secret identity', as you put it, protects you. Actually, you have a leg-up on this 'secret-identity' business. I can tell you from experience that lots of people are going to assume that your IQ is inversely proportional to your bust size and being blonde just adds to that misconception."
"Oh, great. My secret identity is going to be a dumb blonde with big tits."
"You'd rather be an ugly, flat-chested, brunette, Nobel Prize-winning scientist?"
"I'd rather be a beautiful Amazon princess."
"Difficult. Can we compromise on beautiful, blonde, Nobel Prize-winning scientist, with big tits?"
"That works for me!"
"Good. Then I better get you home so you can finish studying before your date tonight."
"Awwwww. I've been had."
"By my count, at least four times today."
"Very funny. Want to make it five?"
"Always. But study first. Future Nobel Prize winners need to keep their grades up."
"Do you really think I could win a Nobel Prize?" I asked.
Bambi took her time answering. "Yes," she said at last.
"You thought that over."
"Yes, I did."
I was about to complain that she took long enough to decide, when I realized that a quick answer would have meant she hadn't thought it through and a slow one meant that she had considered it seriously. Suddenly, I saw schoolwork in a new light. The goal wasn't to get good marks on my report card. The goal was to be able to do something with what I was learning. That was going to be much harder. I pictured a frame on the wall in the hall with a report cards with all 'A's on it. Then I pictured that frame with a certificate from the Nobel Foundation in it. I made myself a promise that those report cards were never going to be a permanent fixture on that wall.
We left the lingerie department with several minimal thongs and a couple of really lovely nightgowns. One was green, a simple stretch satin gown that looked elegant and felt wonderful on my skin. The other was a sheer cloud of white gauze that weighed nothing and hid nothing. The first was for sleeping in. The second one I did not expect to wear for more than a few minutes at a time.
When we had put all my new things away in my closet, there was still a lot of room left. Bambi assured me that we would eventually fill it up. I thought it would take a lot of shopping trips to fill that big closet, especially since most of my new clothes took up hardly any space at all. After all those trips, I would be very well-dressed and probably very spoiled. Bambi had obviously spoiled her sons. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she intended to spoil me rotten as well. I told myself that I would just have to bear up under that burden as best I could.
"OK, now go study." She instructed. "Use anyplace you like but the family room. I will be cleaning in there."
"I thought you had maid service," I said, surprised that she would stoop to her own housecleaning.
"I do, but they only come on Monday and Thursday," she said. "I know you and the boys will probably want to have your party down there and I want it to be as nice as possible for you."
"Thank you! But you don't have to do that. I'll clean it. I want to pull my weight around here."
"No, honey. Your job right now is to study. Let me do this. If you are looking for chores to do, you can take on feeding and watering the dog. The boys tend to forget, so you can take over that job. Besides, Brute seems to have become attached to you. I'm sure he would like to have you be the one to feed him. He gets one bowl of the dry food in the morning and another in the evening. Change his water at the same time and keep his bowls clean. OK?"
"Oh, yes! Thank you! I promise I'll take good care of him." If Bud and Jim had failed to take proper care of him and I took on the job, then that made him my dog. I had never had a pet before. Brute would be my first.
It was after four when I finished my schoolwork. I went over all my assignments carefully to be sure I had everything correct and I even read a chapter ahead in my textbooks so I would be able to better understand the new material we would cover in the following week. I also made notes of things that were unclear to me so I could ask questions about them in class. The Nobel Prize might never actually hang on the wall, but it wouldn't be because I had slacked on my schoolwork. I actually regretted that I hadn't had this kind of motivation a lot earlier. Who knows what I might have been able to do?