Beyond the Chocolate War

announce himself to the world of Trinity, to let them know he existed after months of being ignored and neglected.

'We'll see,' Ray said, still behind the guillotine.

Obie was elated. We'll see: the words his mother and father used when they meant yes but wanted to postpone the decision for a while.

'Okay,' Obie said. 'Take your time. Let me know later.'

As he left he glanced back at Ray, who was still standing behind the guillotine. But his face held a soft, dreamy expression, his eyes far away, and Obie knew that Ray Bannister was at that moment already performing on the stage of the assembly hall.

He answered the telephone, finally. Had listened to the rings, too many to count, and then picked up the receiver, knowing that whatever had to be done must begin with answering the phone.

Glancing outside once more — Janza not in sight at the moment — he said: 'Hello.'

Goober's voice took him by surprise.

'Jerry, I've been trying to reach you since last night. Where've you been?'

Do I lie or not? Jerry wondered. And knew he had to tell the truth.

'I've been right here.'

'Are you sick? Anything wrong? I called last night, then this noon during lunch. Something wrong with the phone?'

'My father's away,' Jerry, said. 'On a swing around New England On a business trip. But I've been here. And I heard the phone ringing. .'

'You know about Janza, then?' Goober asked. Because why else wouldn't Jerry answer the phone?

'I know.' Weary, accepting.

'He's been pacing up and down across the street from your apartment. I saw him last night. I spotted him again today, after school. I made a detour to check up on him.'

'Thanks, Goob.'

'I wanted to warn you,' Goober said. 'Wait. More than that, I wanted you to know, want you to know that we're in this together. Janza's always looking for trouble. Okay, he'll get it. From both of us.'

'Wait a minute, Goob. You're going too fast.'

'What do you mean, too fast?'

'Slow down. Just because Janza's been down on the street a couple of times doesn't mean it's an emergency—'

'What is it, then?' Goober asked, slowing down, curious, as if waiting for Jerry to come up with some marvelous, stunning truth.

'I don't know. But it's time to sit and wait awhile. . '

Silence from Goober. Which Jerry expected.

'Look, Goober, I'm glad you called. I appreciate what you're doing. But I don't know yet what I'm going to do. That's why I didn't answer the phone. I thought it might be Janza and I wasn't ready to talk to him — I'm still not ready.'

'You don't have to do anything, Jerry. He can't keep this up forever. He'll get tired of it. Just sit tight for a while, Jerry. When's your father coming home?'

He heard the nervousness in Goober's voice.

'Tomorrow night. But that doesn't matter, Goober. Whether my father comes home or not doesn't matter.'

'You shouldn't be alone, Jerry. Janza's such an animal, you never know what he's going to do. He's one of Archie Costello's stooges. He might be doing this on an assignment from the Vigils.'

'You're going too fast again, Goob. Way too fast All we know is that Janza's been walking up and down out there. He's not there right now. So the best thing to do is wait and see.'

'Want me to come over? I can spend the night—'

'Hey, Goob, I don't need a bodyguard. Janza's not going to launch an invasion.'

Another pause, more silence.

'Why didn't you answer the phone, Jerry? Last night I must have called three, four times. Again today. Why didn't you answer?'

'I already told you, Goob. Because I'm not sure what I want to do. I don't know yet—'

'Well, don't do anything crazy. Don't try to fight him. That's probably what he's looking for.'

'I'm not going to fight him,' Jerry said. 'But I have to do something. I can't sit in this apartment forever.'

'Wait him out. Let me come over.'

'Course not, Goob. I'm safe here. Janza's not going to murder me. Look, it's getting late, and Janza hasn't shown his face for an hour. Wait a minute. Let me look. . '

He glanced out the window, saw the empty street, all grays and shadows like a scene in a black-and-white movie. A car passed, headlights probing the shadows. Nobody in those shadows. No Janza.

'He's not there. We'll probably never see him again. Get some sleep, Goob. I'll be okay. Let's wait and see what happens tomorrow.' Felt the need to say more. 'I appreciate your call. You're a good friend, Goob. . '

'What are friends for, right, Jerry?'

'Right. .'

After he had hung up, Jerry glanced out the window again.

And saw Janza again. Rain had started to fall, the sidewalks glistened with wetness, but Janza stood there, hands on hips, looking up, black hair plastered to his skull, ignoring the rain.

Jerry thought of the fight last fall and he thought of Trinity and he thought of the chocolates and he thought of his father, and his thoughts were like a tired caravan of images.

Most of all, he thought of Canada. Wistfully. Those beautiful moments on that frozen landscape, the wind whispering in the Talking Church. He suddenly felt homesick for a place that was not really home. Or maybe it was. Or could be.

'I'm going back to Canada,' he said, speaking the words aloud to give them life and impact like a pledge that had to be spoken in order to verify its truth.

Back to Canada.

But first — Janza.

While Janza continued to stare up at the building, his short blunt figure dripping with rain, cold and dark and implacable, as if he had emerged from a block of ice.

Carter was reluctant to help.

But then Carter was reluctant about everything these days, walking around school like a zombie.

Obie needed him, however.

'I don't know,' Carter said, rubbing his chin. Dark sharp bristles on his chin, cheeks. Carter hadn't shaved yet today. And probably not yesterday.

They were sitting in Obie's car in front of Carter's house. Twilight muffled the neighborhood sounds of evening.

'I thought you were all hot to start a mutiny against Archie,' Obie said. 'Remember when you called me about the Bishop's visit?'

'What's the Bishop's visit got to do with this?' Carter asked suspiciously.

'Nothing,' Obie said, studying the athlete, his bloodshot eyes, damp, pale face. Like he was suffering a hangover or the aftermath of drugs. But Obie knew that Carter didn't do drugs, didn't want to ruin that precious physique. It was evident, however, that Carter was in turmoil. Obie felt, crazily, as if he was looking into a mirror. He didn't know what kind of demons had invaded Carter's life, but he recognized a suffering, kindred soul. 'This has got nothing to do with the Bishop's visit. It's got to do with Fair Day. And Skit Night. .'

Carter raked his hand along his unshaved cheek. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked, still reluctant.

'It's simple,' Obie said. 'I need you to create a diversion. For a minute or two.' He couldn't spell out the entire scheme. Hell, Carter would head for the hills if he knew the plan.

Now it was Carter's turn to study Obie. Obie had changed in the past few weeks. Not physically, of course: