GRAMP By Charles V. De Vet It's tough to see into minds when you're only a child--and tougher still when you see what scares you! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "Why is Gramma making mad pictures at you?" I asked Gramp. Gramp looked at me. "What pictures, Chum?" "Pictures in her mind like you're lazy. And like she wanted to hurt you," I said. Gramp's eyes got wide. He kept looking at me, and then he said, "Get your cap, Chum. We're gonna take a little walk." Gramp didn't say anything until we walked all the way to the main road and past Mr. Watchorn's corn field. I walked behind him, counting the little round holes his wooden leg made in the gravel. Finally Gramp said, "Abracadabra." That was our secret word. It meant that if I was playing one of our games, I was to stop for awhile. Gramp and I had lots of games we played. One of them was where we made believe. Sometimes we'd play that Gramp and I had been working all day, when we really just stayed in the shade telling stories. Then when we got home and Gramma asked us what we had done, we'd tell her about how hard we had worked. "I really did see mad pictures in Gramma's mind," I said. "Have you ever seen pictures in anybody's mind before?" Gramp asked. "I always see them," I said. "Don't you?" "No," Gramp said after a minute. "Other people can't either. You're probably the only little boy who can." "Is that bad?" "No," Gramp answered. "It's good. But remember how I told you that people don't like other people who are different? Well, even though seeing pictures like you do is a wonderful thing, other people won't like you if they know you can do it. So we'll just keep it a secret between us." I was glad Gramp told me, because he always knows the best things to do. I'm his Chum. I love him better than anyone else in the whole world. Whenever the other kids tease me and call me Crazy Joe I go to Gramp and he tells me funny stories and makes me laugh. * * * * * I remember the first time he told me about people hating other people who are different. "Why do the kids call me Crazy Joe and laugh at me?" I asked him.