The Chocolate War

Laughter greeted the answer and Obie allowed himself a smile. But a quick look from Archie wiped the smile away. Archie was dead serious. He could tell that by the way his lips were tight and thin and his eyes flashing like neon signs.

'See?' Archie said, swiveling back to Renault. 'Everybody has to do things in this world they don't want to.'

A terrific sadness swept over Jerry. As if somebody had died. The way he felt standing in the cemetery that day they buried his mother. And nothing you'could do about it.

'Okay, Renault,' Archie said, a finality in his voice.

You could feel the room tense. Obie sucked in his breath. Here it comes, the Archie touch.

'Here's your assignment. Tomorrow at the roll call, you take the chocolates. You say, 'Brother Leon, I accept the chocolates.' '

Stunned, Jerry blurted out 'What?'

'Something wrong with your hearing, Renault?' Turning aside, he called, 'Hey, McGrath, did you hear me?'

'Hell, yes.'

'What did I say?'

'You said the kid should start selling chocolates.'

Archie returned his attention to Jerry. 'You're getting off easy, Renault. You've disobeyed The Vigils. That calls for punishment. Although The Vigils don't believe in violence, we have found it necessary to have a punishment code. The punishment is usually worse than the assignment. But we're letting you off cheap, Renault. We're just asking you to take the chocolates tomorrow. And sell them.'

Jesus, Obie thought in disbelief. The great Archie Costello is running scared. The word 'asking' was the tipoff. A slip of the lip, maybe. But as if Archie was trying to bargain with the kid, asking, for crying out loud. I've got you, Archie, you bastard. Obie had never known such sweet victory. The goddam freshman was going to screw Archie up, at last. Not the Black Box. Not Brother Leon. Not his own cleverness. But a skinny freshman. Because Obie was certain of one thing as if it was a natural law, like gravity — Renault wasn't going to sell the chocolates. He could tell by looking at the kid, standing there scared, like he could shit his pants, but not backing down. While Archie was asking him to sell the chocolates. Asking.

'Dismissed,' Archie called out.

Carter was surprised at the sudden dismissal and he banged the gavel too hard, almost splitting the crate he used as a desk. He had a feeling that he had missed a beat somewhere, had missed a crucial moment. Archie and all his subtle crap. What the kid Renault needed was a stiff jab to the jaw and another to the belly. That'd make him sell the frigging chocolates. Archie and his stupid let's not have any violence. Anyway, the meeting was over and Carter felt like working out, like working up a sweat with the gloves and the big bag.

He banged the gavel again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hello.'

His mind went blank.

'Hello?'

Was it her? But it had to be — this was the last Barrett in the book and the voice was fresh and appealing, the kind of voice that went with all that beauty he had seen at the bus stop.

'Hello,' he managed, his voice emerging as an ugly croak.

'Is this Danny?' she asked.

He was instantly, insanely jealous of Danny, whoever Danny was.

'No,' he croaked again, miserably.

'Who is this?' she asked, annoyance now in her voice.

'Is this Ellen? Ellen Barrett?' The name was strange on his tongue. He had never said it aloud although he had whispered it silently a thousand times.

Silence.

'Look,' he began, his heart beating desperately. 'Look, you don't know who I am but I see you every day…'

'Are you some kind of pervert?' she asked, not horrified at all but good-naturedly curious, like, 'Hey ma, I've got a pervert on the line.'

'No. I'm the fellow at the bus stop.'

'What fellow? What bus stop?' Her voice had lost all its demureness. It had become a wise-guy, show-me kind of voice.

He wanted to say you smiled at me yesterday, the day before that, last week. And I love you. But couldn't. He suddenly saw how futile, how ridiculous the situation was. A fellow didn't call up a girl on the evidence of a smile and introduce himself this way. She probably smiled at a hundred guys a day.

'I'm sorry for bothering you,' he said.

'Are you sure this isn't Danny? Are you trying to put me on, Danny? Look, Danny, I'm getting tired of you and your crap…'

Jerry hung up. He didn't want to hear anymore. The word 'crap,' echoing now in his mind, had destroyed all illusion about her. Like meeting a lovely girl and having her smile reveal rotten teeth. But his heart was still beating wildly. Are you some kind of pervert? Maybe I am. Not a sexual pervert but another kind. Wasn't refusing to sell the chocolates a kind of perversion? Wasn't it crazy to go on refusing to sell the chocolates, particularly after that last warning yesterday by Archie Costello and The Vigils? And yet this morning, he had stood his ground and feed a level and positive No at Brother Leon. For the first time, the word brought exultancy to him, a lifting of the spirit.

With the latest No resounding in his ears, Jerry had expected the school building to fall or something dramatic to happen. Nothing. He had seen Goober shake his head in dismay. But Goober didn't know about this new feeling, the sense that his bridges were burning behind him and for once in his life he didn't care. He was still buoyant when he arrived home, otherwise, he wouldn't have had the courage to call all those Barretts and to actually talk to the girl. It had been a miserable failure, of course. But he had made the call, taken a step, broken the routine of his days and nights.

He went into the kitchen, suddenly ravenous, and dumped some ice cream from the freezer into a dish.

'My name is Jerry Renault and I'm not going to sell the chocolates,' he said to the empty apartment.

The words and his voice sounded strong and noble.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They shouldn't have picked Frankie Rollo for as assignment, of course. A junior, Rollo was insolent, a troublemaker. He was a non-participant, refusing to take part in athletics or extra-curricular activities that were so important in the Trinity scene. He seldom opened a book and never did any homework, but he managed to survive because he possessed a native and cunning intelligence. His major talent was cheating. He was also lucky. Under ordinary circumstances, he was the kind of guy Archie took pleasure in assigning, watching him bend or break. All these so-called rough characters melted into ninety-seven-pound weaklings when confronted by Archie and The Vigils The scorn and the swagger evaporated as they stood ill-at-ease in the storage room. But not Frankie Rollo. He stood loose and easy, unintimidated.

'Your name?' Archie asked.

'Come on, Archie,' Rollo replied, smiling at all this foolishness. 'You know my name.'

The silence was awesome. But before that silence, a gasp from someone in the room. Archie was careful to