Dark Mondays by Kage Baker Page A

12—”
    “Because it’s Darwin’s birthday,” explained Mrs. Avila, looking a little embarrassed. “His father came up with that.”
    “No, that’s okay,” Father Souza said. “Catholics don’t have a problem with Evolution.”
    “And
she
said, Monkey Day was only made up, so we couldn’t have it! And then she said, ‘Take those rid—ridic—ridiculous things off your feet’!”
    “And
he
called her a Work Destroyer,” said Mrs. Avila dryly. “And a few other things. I got quite an e-mail from her. I had to leave work to go pick him up from the principal’s office.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “They have a behavior chart at his school,” said Mrs. Avila. “It’s set up by colors. You get a green ticket in the morning, and if you’re good, you get to keep it all day. If you misbehave, you lose the green ticket and get a yellow one. If you act worse, the Yellow gets taken away and you get an orange one. Patrick went all the way down the chart over a period of three minutes and wound up with five red tickets.”
    “Oh, dear,” said Father Souza.
    “I hate her!” said Patrick.
    “No, no, Patrick, you can’t do that,” said Father Souza. “It sounds as though it was just a misunderstanding.”
    “She laughed at me,” said Patrick.
    “I plan on talking to the principal about that,” said Mrs. Avila. “But what has him really upset is that she said—”
    “
All
holidays are just made up,” said Patrick, in a terrible voice. “Even Christmas. She said they’re all imaginary, that people just make things up!” He folded his arms, and glared at Father Souza in righteous indignation.
    “Ah. Okay,” said Father Souza. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Up from his memory floated a scrap about Ms. Washburn: Brittany Machado’s grandmother said she was going to Hell. “I guess she’s a militant atheist?”
    “And I have to say I’m a little annoyed at her agenda,” said Mrs. Avila. “I’d like to choose my own time to tell my kids there isn’t any Santa Claus, thank you very much.”
    “Except Santa Claus
is
real,” said Patrick. “Right, Father Mark?”
    Father Souza looked uncertainly from Patrick to his mother. “Saint Nicholas is real, yes. And children get presents at Christmas for the sake of Baby Jesus, of course. Some people don’t believe that, Patrick. It’s a shame, but we shouldn’t hate them for it.”
    “Can we hate people because they’re mean?” asked Patrick.
    “No,” said Father Souza. “But you can hate meanness.”
    “Well, I really really really hate meanness,” said Patrick. “And I think what you ought to do is go over to her house with a Bible like that guy in that exercise movie and say a spell so her head turns around. Because then people will laugh at her and not listen to what she says.”
    Father Souza and Mrs. Avila stared at him in mutual incomprehension. Then Mrs. Avila said, “Did you watch
The Exorcist
, after your father and I told you not to?”
    Patrick winced.
    “Urn, just a little. Because it happened to be on. Because I was over at Kyla’s house. And it was way back at Halloween. So
anyway
Father, you need to use your powers on Ms. Washburn, okay?”
    “Patrick,” said Mrs. Avila, “we’re going to have a long talk with Daddy when he gets back. And priests don’t do magic spells. Is that what you made me bring you all the way up here to ask?”
    “They do spells in Theo’s Dragon Gamer Module,” muttered Patrick, not meeting her eyes.
    Sensing an explosion immanent, Father Souza said hastily: “I’ll try to talk to your teacher, okay, Patrick?”
    “And we’re going to have a long talk with your brother too,” said Mrs. Avila to Patrick, rising to her feet. “I’m sorry, Father Mark. It looks as though Patrick wasn’t really interested in spiritual advice.”
    She led Patrick out the door by his upper arm. Patrick turned in the doorway and winked broadly, twice, so Father Souza wouldn’t miss