The Peculiar Lives of Boys & Girls At Plumfield

Chapter Four - Annie

"Anger is pain past the point of reason. It is not in itself unreasonable, but great pain can rarely be reasoned with," Bhaer had told Dan the day he'd punched Jack in the nose in his early days at Plumfield. It had irked Dan how gentle Bhaer had been as he'd wiped the blood from Dan's knuckles, and Dan had eventually grown frustrated with the urge to cry and torn his hand out of the professor's grasp.

"Is that 'nother one of your Europe-ine poems?"

"Euro-pee-an. No. I made that one up myself."

"I can tell."

Bhaer had given him a disapproving look, but recovered quicker than Dan would've liked. "You're an angry boy, Daniel."

"My name is Dan."

"Very well, Dan. Do you know what anger is?"

"Pain past the point of reason."

"Anger is proof of conscience, much the same way pain is proof of being alive."

"So?"

"You may think you're bad, perhaps wicked, for being so angry, but when I say you're an angry boy, believe it or not, I do not mean it as an insult. You see in my long, arduous life—"

"What's ardjus?"

"It means difficult—"

"Then why'n'tcha just say that?"

"I have had the opportunity to witness countless people. Angry ones are less common than those who pretend to be happy or kind or smart. Those are common. But angry people, those who wear it on their sleeve, who can't help hiding it from their eyes, who are naturally angry all the time without help of drink . . . they're one of the more interesting sort of people. Oftentimes they're classified as stupid and daft."

Dan had opened his mouth to protest, but Bhaer had held up his hand. "I find that untrue for the most part. That reputation belongs to violent people, and violent people are different from angry ones. Violent people are sort of like . . . well like babies. They don't know what to do with something, they throw it. They feel a strong emotion, they grab something and throw it. If there's someone they don't like, they throw something at them. A bottle, a fist. Not angry people. Angry people, sometimes are quiet. They aren't simpletons. While violent people hit because they do not understand, angry people are in fact the opposite. They do understand. Oftentimes, they understand more than anyone. It is this understanding that makes them angry, but it is not the only reason."

Dan had sat silently, taken in by the words of the professor. For the first time in all his life, he had hope that he could be understood. That he could understand himself.

"Why?" he asked hesitantly, embarrassed at his own earnestness. "Why are they like that?" It almost came out as a plea. He felt like he couldn't stop himself when it came to fights and he was frightened he'd lose Nat, lose his own chance at a home, because of it.

"Love," Bhaer said. "Angry people understand the world because they took the time to love it. It makes life's betrayals all the more harder to bear."

And then Bhaer leaned in and said in a low, gentle voice, the most horrifying words Dan had ever heard: "I think you are one of the most passionate, loving souls I have ever met. You are raw and gnarly, like the earth. Trampled by rain and foot and sun. You have suffered, but you are rich. You know too much and care fiercely. You are in great pain because you are so full of life. You will be angry as long as you live, Dan . . . but you must learn it, learn from it; or it will drown you."

*

"I dare you to race me on the lake."

Nan rolled her eyes at Dan, letting out a fog of air in the winter cold. "Come on, Dan."