Beyond the Chocolate War

window pane. In his mind he was the champion and Leon the challenger, although on the surface one would suppose that Leon had the upper hand. Archie, a student; Leon, the Headmaster. In any contest, the Headmaster would be sure to emerge victorious, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? Ah, but not according to Archie. Not according to the gospel of Trinity as written by Archie Costello.

Now he stood at that particular spot, glancing up at the residence, not knowing what he was looking for. Certainly not a confrontation with Leon. Archie realized that he and Leon had not talked or even run into each other for weeks. Leon was famous for surprise visits to classrooms, but he either avoided or did not happen to enter any of Archie's classes. Once in a while Archie saw Leon at a distance, across the campus or on the stage of the assembly hall or getting into a car. But their paths never crossed. Accident or design? Archie didn't know and didn't care. He kept his emotions under control, in cold storage, in neutral. He allowed himself measures of enjoyment — for instance, in the car with one of the girls from Miss Jerome's School across town — but always holding a part of himself aloof, never letting go completely. He enjoyed what he saw in the eyes of the other students when he directed his attention to them — fear, apprehension, resentment. He was aware of how others felt about him, but frankly, he paid only passing attention, preferred not to think about other people. People thought too much, anyway. Or talked too much.

Once in a while he expressed his thoughts to Obie. Obie was the only person he allowed into his privacy. But not recently. He and Obie had grown apart. No, that was wrong, not grown apart They had been pulled apart by that girl, all that nonsense of Obie being in love. Love, for crissakes. Obie of all people. Although he hated to admit it to himself, Archie missed the talks with Obie. He could bounce ideas off Obie although Obie was unaware of what Archie was doing. Obie was so normal, so regular, so average, so typical of what a high school guy was like, that Archie, by being close to Obie, knew all the time what the school was thinking. Okay, so he used Obie. But wasn't that what life was all about? Using? Just as Obie, no doubt, used him, used his proximity to the Assignor of the Vigils to set him apart from, probably above, the other students.

The afternoon was dying, turning the campus into long shadows, hidden doorways, bushes and shrubbery hugging the residence, many places now for people to hide. Archie always envisioned lurkers, predators, watchers in the shadows or around corners, peeking out of windows, waiting behind closed doors. That was why he always stood tense, alert, at the ready, keen, eyes shifting, on guard under his exterior of coolness. It was a rotten world, full of treachery and evil, and you had to be on your toes at all times, ready for combat, to outfox, outwit, outdeal everybody else. Archie endorsed the graffiti he had once seen scrawled on a downtown brick wall: Do Unto Others, Then Split.

He heard the footsteps behind him at the same moment the voice reached his ears.

'Are you expecting an apparition, Costello?'

Archie didn't turn but winced slightly, instantly humiliated by allowing Brother Leon to creep up and surprise him. He didn't like to be surprised, particularly by Leon. He remained still, waiting for Leon to swing around and come into his view. Which Leon did, a satisfied look on his face, as if he had gained some kind of advantage. Leon was dressed in his black and whites, black suit, stiff white collar.

The campus was still. A car with a ruptured muffler violated the air far down the street.

'You're lurking late here, aren't you, Costello?' Leon asked.

Lurking and Costello. Leon had a trick of choosing certain words and pronouncing them so as to make them seem sinister, unsavory. As if Archie by lurking here was doing something illegal, dirty, shameful. And Costello. Since assuming the authority of Headmaster, Brother Leon called all students by their last names, kept a strict formality with them. He had never been the buddy-buddy type anyway; now he treated the students as if they were underlings, mere subjects in the kingdom of his royal highness, Leon the First.

Archie shrugged, didn't bother to answer Leon's Question; it didn't require an answer, in fact. To Leon, the question itself was important, not the answer. The question and how he asked it, with that faint smirk, the suggestive curl of his lips. But Archie knew Leon's methods — and Leon knew he knew — so Archie permitted himself a smile at Leon, a smile that told Leon exactly how he felt about it all. And then Archie decided to answer, seeing an opportunity to level his own shaft at Leon.

'Just checking the' premises,' Archie said. 'Some of the neighbors have been complaining about a child molester — wearing a white collar — lurking in the area.'

A glitter in Leon's eyes, a quickening, like a sudden touch of cold sunlight on the surface of a lake. His face was expressionless, but Archie sensed a tension in the flesh of Leon's cheeks. He and Leon had always dueled this way, tossing veiled barbs at each other, in a game that wasn't quite a game.

Leon waved his right hand, almost limply, dismissing Archie's barb, showing that he recognized it for what it was, verbal retaliation.

'The campus has been quiet for some time,' Leon said, his tone now more conversational, as if some prologue had ended and he could get on with the business at hand. 'You have been holding them in check.'

Archie knew who he meant by them.

'I must express my admiration, Costello. For you. Your methods. I know that your odd activities go on, but you have been discreet. And life has been kind, hasn't it?'

They had made a pact months ago, after the chocolates and immediately after Leon had assumed the Headmastership of Trinity. 'Life at Trinity can be very pleasant, Costello, for both of us,' Leon had said. 'My desire is to continue the fine traditions of Trinity, to make it the best preparatory school in New England. And this takes faculty working together with the student body. Our dear retired Headmaster was a wonderful man but did not comprehend the ways of students, Costello. He was not vigilant.' Vigilant. Leon had caressed the word with his tongue, his lips, his voice, giving it a special meaning, the word leaping into the air and hanging there. Archie had nodded. Knew Leon's meaning. 'I, however, am vigilant. Will continue to be. I also know that boys must be allowed their games, their sports, must indulge their idiosyncrasies on occasion. This I understand and allow. But within limitations. Without obstructions to the lofty goals and purposes of Trinity. And its administration.'

Words, of course. Bullshit. The administration of the school was under the strict control of Brother Leon. In fact, he had arranged a transfer for Brother Jacques, the only member of the faculty who had ever showed signs of independence — Jacques had objected to the events surrounding the chocolate skirmish last fall — and Jacques was no longer on the scene at Trinity. So much for Leon's pretensions. But even though Leon's words were bullshit, the meaning came through straight and true to Archie. He and Leon spoke the same language, not the verbal language of ordinary communication but the between-the-lines language of conspirators and plotters. What Leon meant: Play your tricks, Archie, carry out the assignments, let the Vigils have their fun. But keep your distance from me. Don't do anything to embarrass me as Headmaster of the school Otherwise. .

'Incidentally, Costello, I have some bad news.'

Not so incidentally, Archie figured. He knew now the reason Brother Leon had sought him out, confronted him here on the campus as the sun began to droop. I have some bad news. He had never known Leon to bring good news.

'It's news from provincial headquarters. In Manchester, New Hampshire.'

Get to the point, Brother Leon, and spare the geography.

'Brother Eugene — remember him?' Leon asked, guilelessly, innocently. But not so guileless, not so innocent.

Archie nodded, glad that he seldom perspired, whether under pressure or during heat waves, glad that beads of moisture on his forehead would not betray him.

'He is dead, Brother Eugene. He died yesterday in the infirmary at Manchester.'

For a moment, in the shadows, Archie saw the soft, quizzical face of Brother Eugene superimposed on Leon's features, then shrugged it away.

'He never fully recovered,' Leon said.

Archie knew what Leon wanted him to ask: Recovered from what? But Archie wouldn't give him the satisfaction. And, anyway, they both knew.

'The Order has lost a wonderful, sensitive teacher,' Leon said. 'Have you anything to say, Costello? Perhaps a tribute of your own? You had Brother Eugene in class, didn't you?'

'History,' Archie said. 'One semester.'