The Chocolate War

Trinity, the ledger in which the daily sales were recorded. 'Let me see — you have done fine in the sale, David. Eighteen boxes sold. Fine. Fine. Not only are you an excellent scholar but you possess school spirit.'

Caroni blushed with pleasure — it was impossible for him to resist a compliment, even when he was all mixed up as he certainly was at the moment. All this talk of exams and teachers getting tired and making mistakes and now the chocolate sale… and the two pieces of broken chalk abandoned on the desk, like white bones, dead men's bones.

'If everyone did his part like you, David, the sale would be an instant success. Of course, not everyone has your spirit, David…'

Caroni wasn't sure what tipped him off. Maybe the way Brother Leon paused at this point. Maybe the entire conversation, all of it off-key somehow. Or maybe the chalk in Brother Leon's hands, the way he had snapped it in two while his voice remained cool and easy — which was the phony thing: the hand holding the chalk, all tense and nervous, or the cool, easy voice?

'Take Renault, for instance,' Brother Leon continued. 'Funny thing about him, isn't it?'

And Caroni knew. He found himself staring into the moist watchful eyes of the teacher and in a blinding flash he knew what this was all about, what was happening, what Brother Leon was doing, the reason for this little conversation after school. A headache began to assert itself above his right eye, the pain digging into his flesh — migraine. His stomach lurched sickeningly. Were teachers like everyone else, then? Were teachers as corrupt as the villains you read about in books or saw in movies and televison? He'd always worshiped his teachers, had thought of becoming a teacher himself someday if he could overcome his shyness. But now — this. The pain grew in intensity, throbbing in his forehead.

'Actually, I feel badly for Renault,' Brother Leon was saying. 'He must be a very troubled boy to act this way.'

'I guess so,' Carom said, stalling, uncertain of himself and yet knowing really what Brother Leon wanted. He had seen Brother Leon every day in the classroom calling out the names and had watched him recoil as if from a blow when Jerry Renault continued to refuse the chocolates. It had become a kind of joke among the fellows. Actually, Caroni had felt badly for Jerry Renault. He knew that no kid was a match for Brother Leon. But now he realized that Brother Leon had been the victim. He must have been climbing the walls all this time, David thought.

'Well, David.'

And the echo of his name here in the classroom startled him. He wondered if he still had aspirins left in his locker. Forget the aspirins, forget the headache. He knew now what the score was, what Leon was waiting to hear. Yet, could he be sure?

'Speaking of Jerry Renault…' Caroni said — a safe beginning, a statement he could draw back from, depending on Brother Leon's reaction.

'Yes?'

The hand had picked up one of the pieces of chalk again, and that 'Yes?' had been too quick, too sudden to allow any doubt. Caroni found himself hung up between choices and the headache didn't help matters. Could he erase that F by telling Brother Leon simply what he wanted to hear? What was so terrible about that? On the other hand, an F could ruin him. And how about all the other F's it was possible that Leon could give him in the future?

'Funny thing about Jerry Renault,' Caroni heard himself saying. And then instinct caused him to add, 'But I'm sure you know what it's all about, Brother Leon. The Vigils. The assignment…'

'Of course, of course,' Leon said, sitting back, letting the chalk fall gently from his hand.

'It's a Vigil stunt. He's supposed to refuse to sell chocolates for ten days — ten school days — and then accept them. Boy, those Vigils, they're really something, aren't they?' His head was killing him and his stomach was a sea of nausea.

'Boys will be boys,' Leon was saying, nodding his head, his voice a whisper — it was hard to tell whether he was surprised or relieved. 'Knowing Trinity's spirit, it was obvious, of course. Poor Renault. You remember, Caroni, that I said he must be troubled. Terrible, to force a boy into that kind of situation, against his will. But it's all over then, isn't it? The ten days — why they're up, let's see, tomorrow.' He was smiling now, gayly, and talking as if the words themselves didn't matter but that it was important to talk, as if the words were safety valves. And then Caroni realized that Brother Leon had used his name but this time he hadn't said David…

'Well, I guess that's it then,' Brother Leon said, rising, 'I've detained you too long, Caroni.'

'Brother Leon,' Caroni said. He couldn't be dismissed at this point. 'You said you wanted to discuss my mark…'

'Oh, yes, yes, that's right, my boy. That F of yours.'

Caroni felt doom pressing upon him. But went on anyway. 'You said teachers make mistakes, they get tired…'

Brother Leon was standing now. 'Tell you what, Caroni. At the end of the term, when the marks close, I'll review that particular test. Perhaps I'll be fresher then. Perhaps I'll see merit that wasn't apparent before…'

Now it was Caroni's turn to feel relief from the tension, although his headache still pounded and his stomach was still upset. Worse than that, however, he had allowed Brother Leon to blackmail him. If teachers did this kind of thing, what kind of world could it be?

'On the other hand, Caroni, perhaps the F will stand,' Brother Leon said 'It depends…'

'I see, Brother Leon,' Caroni said.

And he did see — that life was rotten, that there were no heroes, really, and that you couldn't trust anybody, not even yourself.

He had to get out of there as fast as possible, before he vomited all over Brother Leon's desk.

Chapter Seventeen

Adamo?'

'Three.'

'Beauvais?'

'Five.'

The Goober was impatient for the roll call to be over. Or, rather, for the roll call to reach Jerry Renault. Like everyone else, the Goober had finally learned that Jerry was carrying out a Vigil assignment — that's why he had refused to take the chocolates day after day, that's why he didn't want to talk about it with Goober. Now, Jerry could become himself again, human again. His football had suffered. 'What the hell is the matter with you, Renault?' the coach asked in disgust yesterday, 'do you want to play ball or not?' And Jerry had answered, 'I'm playing ball.' All the kids knew the double meaning his answer conveyed because it was public knowledge now. He and Goober had had only one brief conversation about the assignment — in fact, it wasn't really a conversation. Leaving football practice yesterday, Goober had whispered, 'When does the assignment end?' And Jerry had said, 'Tomorrow I take the chocolates.'

'Hartnett?'

'One.'

'You can do better than that, Hartnett,' Leon said, but there was no anger, not even disappointment in his voice. Brother Leon was buoyant today and his mood had spread throughout the class. That's the way Leon's classes were — he set the mood and the temperature. When Brother Leon was happy everybody was happy, when he was miserable everybody was miserable.

'Johnson?'

'Five.'

'Good, good.'

Killelea… LeBlanc… Malloran… the roll call went on, the voices shouting out their sales and the teacher checking the names off on the sheet. The names and the responses sounded almost like a song, a melody for a