Beyond the Chocolate War

'Do you know what they were up to? In what way could they embarrass the Bishop and the school?'

'I have some inkling, heard some rumors,' Archie said, more careful now. 'A demonstration before mass, on the Bishop's arrival.' Improvising. 'Some signs, like a picket line.'

'What kind of signs?'

Archie knew he had him now. And this is what he loved, improvising and embellishing. 'Signs asking for a shorter school day, more vacation time.'

'That's impossible. We must operate under state law.'

'The kids know that. A nuisance effect, that's all they're after.'

Doubtful now, Leon regarded the note once more.

'Bad things will happen. That doesn't sound like a nuisance. That sounds suspiciously like a threat.'

'Guys get carried away. Believe me, Brother Leon.'

Actually, Brother Leon had no choice but to believe. Archie knew that Brother Leon could do nothing about the situation without embarrassing himself. Fighting the Vigils or what he believed to be a group of dissidents would be like fighting fog, impossible to grasp or penetrate. He had to depend on Archie, take Archie's word.

Leon sighed, frowned, tugged at his chin. Even from five or six feet away, Archie smelled his stale breath, rancid breath. Then a smirk developed on Leon's lips. Slowly Brother Leon opened the drawer once more, withdrew another sheet of paper, glanced at it and then at Archie.

'Whatever the conspirators planned was all in vain, at any rate,' he said. 'I received a letter from the diocese yesterday. It has been necessary for the Bishop to cancel his visit this year. The National Council of Bishops has called an important meeting in Chicago.' He placed the letter on the desk, on top of the other, squared them off neatly, meticulously, the delicate fingers like insect legs.

Leon regarded Archie with triumph, smiling almost grotesquely, a caricature of a smile really. Leon was not accustomed to smiling. But something else was behind the smile, behind those icy cold eyes, the moisture frozen now, a smile that said Leon had not believed a word of what Archie had said. Which did not bother Archie in the least. The important thing is that Leon had chosen to pretend he had believed.

'Let me reiterate, Archie,' Leon said, and the smile was gone now, so quickly that it might never have been there. 'I want no embarrassments, no violence, no incidents here on the campus. We have less than two months to graduation. This has been a difficult year. A year with great triumphs — the most successful chocolate sale of all time, for instance — but a year of change and uncertainty. I want this year to end on a note of triumph.'

Archie made ready to leave, didn't want to linger here any longer than necessary, never knowing what other surprises Leon had up his sleeve.

'You may go,' Leon said, settling back, the smugness on his face as he fanned himself with the letter from the seat of the diocese.

Archie wasted no time getting out of there, rose from his chair without hesitation and made his way to the door. No good-bye, no thanks a lot, Brother Leon. Thanks for nothing.

Outside, Archie paused in the corridor as if to catch his breath, but it wasn't his breath he needed to catch, it was something else, someone else. His mind raced, zigzagging all over the place.

Who wrote that note?

Who was the traitor?

Their favorite spot at the Chasm was occupied by another car, so Obie steered toward an unfamiliar area at the far end and finally parked near a big old maple tree, with branches so low they scraped the roof of the car. He killed the motor and turned toward Laurie.

She sat in the far comer of the front seat, hunched up, her arms wrapped around her chest, shivering once in a while. She had a cold. Her nose was red. So were her eyes. One of those sudden spring colds that arrived overnight, without warning.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'About what?' Sniffing, voice nasal.

'About making you come out tonight, bringing you here.' But he hadn't seen her for three nights: she'd been busy with a play rehearsal, homework, a shopping trip with her mother. Or had she been avoiding him for some reason?

She wiped her nose with a Kleenex, looked at him, eyes watery. 'No fooling around, though, Obie. Besides, you'd probably catch a million germs.'

I wouldn't mind, he thought, face warm with guilt. Despite how miserable she looked, he still felt a surge of desire, would love to kiss her, touch her, even if she were hot with fever. God, what a pervert I am, he thought. But you're not a pervert when you're in love, are you?

He reached out to, touch her hand and she drew away. 'Now, Obie. .' she said.

Hey, I can't catch your cold by holding your hand, Obie thought. But didn't say anything. He pondered the terrible baggage of love: all the doubts, the jealousies, the questions he didn't dare ask. Like: Do you really love me?

Instead he asked another question: 'Is something wrong?'

'I've got this cold,' she answered, with a trace of impatience.

Instinct drove him on. He hated that instinct. 'Sure it's not something else?'

'Lots of things. This cold I missed the honor roll by one lousy C plus. . '

'I didn't know that. You never talk about school—'

'And Trinity,' she said, the word like a bomb thrown in Obie's face. 'What I keep hearing about Trinity. All my friends say—'

'What do your friends say?' he asked, trying for sarcasm but failing, his voice suddenly hoarse.

'Well, for one thing,' she said, 'they say there's a monster operating at Trinity. Archie What's-his-name. He's the head of a secret society and he's surrounded by a bunch of. . stooges. Worse than stooges: They run his errands and do all lands of gross things. . ' The words tumbled out, as if she'd been saving them up and couldn't get rid of them fast enough.

Obie was at a loss for a reply.

She turned toward him. 'Do you know this guy? This character? This Archie Whatever. .'

He had a feeling that Laurie knew Archie's last name. Did she know everything else, too?

'Costello,' he said. 'His name is Archie Costello. And I know him. Hell, Trinity's not that big.'

'They say he runs Trinity like some kind of Mafia gangster. Is that true, Obie?' Wiping her eyes as if weeping. But she wasn't weeping. She sounded like a lawyer in court, for crying out loud.

'There's no Mafia at Trinity,' he said.

'Is there a secret society there?'

Damn it. He always had to proceed carefully with Laurie Gundarson, always in sweet agony, never certain of her feelings. Why did she have to bring Trinity up tonight? Because she felt miserable, because of the cold? Was she the kind of person who wanted to make other people feel rotten just because she felt rotten?

'Is there?' Laurie asked, wiping her nose like mad with the Kleenex.

'Okay,' he said, sighing. 'Yes, there's a secret organization at Trinity—'

'Are you a member of it? One of the. . you know. .'

He had to deny her words. Turning to her, he ached to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her that he had already defected from the Vigils — in spirit, at least — that he was merely going through the motions these days, that he and Archie were no longer friends. They'd never been friends, really. But he knew he couldn't say anything about that. What could he tell her, then?

He reached out and took her hand. It was cool, impersonal, like a piece of merchandise on a store counter. 'Look, Laurie, every school has its traditions — some are okay, some are crazy. Stuff goes on all the time. Monument High's the same. I'll bet it has some weird traditions, too. So Trinity has the Vigils. But it's not all bad.' He squeezed her hand to emphasize his words but there was no response: she could have been wearing surgical gloves. 'The most important thing in the world for me now is you. You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me.' He heard his voice crack, the way it used to when he was an eighth grader and his voice was changing. 'I love you, Laurie. You're all that matters. Not the Vigils, not Trinity, nothing. .'

That's when the spotlight caught him and Laurie in its glare, illuminating the entire front seat. Laurie's face was ghostly white in the harsh radiance. 'Lock your door,' he called to her, moving to do the same to the door on