that you get a scholarship.'
'THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS,' said Owen Meany. He opened, in rapid succession, the three drawers on the right-hand side of the Rev. Mr. Merrill's desk; then he closed them, just as rapidly. That was when Pastor Merrill walked into the vestry office.
'What are you doing?' Mr. Merrill asked Owen.
'NOTHING,' said Owen Meany. 'WAITING FOR YOU.'
'I mean, at my desk-you're sitting at my desk,' Mr. Merrill said. Owen looked surprised.
'I GOT HERE EARLY,' he explained. 'I WAS JUST SITTING IN YOUR CHAIR-I WASN'T DOING ANYTHING .' He got up and walked to the front of Pastor Merrill's desk, where he sat down in his usual chair-at least, I guess it was his 'usual' chair; it reminded me of 'the singer's seat' in Graham McSwiney's funny studio. I was disappointed that I hadn't heard from Mr. McSwiney; I guessed that he had no news about Big Black Buster Freebody.
'I'm sorry if I snapped at you, Owen,' Pastor Merrill said. 'I know how upset you must be.'
'I'M FINE,' Owen said.
'I was glad you called me,' Mr. Merrill told Owen. Owen shrugged. I had not seen him sneer before, but it seemed to me that he almost sneered at the Rev. Mr. Merrill.
'Oh, well!' Mr. Merrill said, sitting down in his creaky desk chair. 'Well, I'm very sorry, Owen-for everything,' he said. He had a way of entering a room-a classroom, The Great Hall, Kurd's Church, or even his own vestry office-as if he were offering an apology to everyone. At the same time, he was struggling so sincerely that you didn't want to stop or interrupt him. You liked him and just wished that he could relax; yet he made you feel guilty for being irritated with him, because of how hard and unsuccessfully he was trying to put you at ease.
Dan said: 'I came here to ask you if you knew the name of the head guy at Saint Michael's-it's the same guy, for the church and for the school, isn't it?'
'That's right,' Pastor Merrill said. 'It's Father Findley.'
'I guess I don't know him,' Dan said. ' thought it was a Father O'Somebody.'
'No, it's not an O'Anybody,' said Mr. Merrill. 'It's Father Findley.' The Rev. Mr. Merrill did not yet know why Dan wanted to know who the Catholic 'head guy' was. Owen, of course, knew what Dan was up to.
'YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING FOR ME, DAN,' Owen said.
'I can try to keep you out of jail,' Dan said. 'I want you to get into college-and to have a scholarship. But, at the very least, I can try to keep you from getting charged with theft and vandalism,' Dan said.
'What did you do, Owen?' the Rev. Mr. Merrill asked him. Owen bowed his head; for a moment, I thought he was going to cry-but then he shrugged off this moment, too. He looked directly into the Rev. Lewis Merrill's eyes.
'I WANT YOU TO SAY A PRAYER FOR ME,' said Owen Meany.
'A p-p-p-prayer-for you?' the Rev. Mr. Merrill stuttered.
'JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING-IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK,' Owen said. 'IT'S YOUR BUSINESS, ISN'T IT?'
The Rev. Mr. Merrill considered this. 'Yes,' he said cautiously. 'At morning meeting?' he asked.
'TODAY-IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY,' said Owen Meany.
'Yes, all right,' the Rev. Lewis Merrill said; but he looked as if he might panic. Dan took my arm and steered me toward the door of the vestry office.
'We'll leave you alone, if you want to talk,' Dan said to Mr. Merrill and Owen.
'Was there anything else you wanted?' Mr. Merrill asked Dan.
'No, just Father Findley-his name,' Dan said.
'And was that all you wanted to see me about-the prayer?' Mr. Merrill asked Owen, who appeared to consider the question very carefully-or else he was waiting for Dan and me to leave. We were outside the vestry office, in the dark corridor where two rows of wooden pegs-for coats-extended for the entire length of two walls; off in the darkness, several
