the posters and seeing his own name there, Archie plotted how his own fifty boxes would be sold. He wouldn’t dream of selling the chocolates himself. He hadn’t touched a box since his freshman days. Usually he found some willing kid who’d gladly sell Archie’s quota along with his own, figuring it was something special to be singled out by the assigner of The Vigils. This year, he’d probably spread the burden around, picking out five guys, say, and have them sell only ten boxes each. It was better than sticking one kid with the entire quota, wasn’t it?
Sitting back in comfort, Archie sighed now, contented, gratified by the heights his sense of fairness and compassion could reach.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
IT WAS AS IF somebody had dropped The Bomb.
Brian Kelly started it all when he touched his chair. It collapsed.
Then, everything happened at once.
Albert LeBlanc brushed against a desk as he made his way down the aisle and it fell apart after trembling crazily for a moment. The impact sent out vibrations which shot down two other chairs and a desk.
John Lowe was about to sit down when he heard the noise of collapsing furniture. He turned and in doing so touched his own desk. The desk disintegrated before his astonished eyes. Leaping backward, he hit his chair. Nothing happened to his chair. But Henry Couture’s desk behind it shivered violently and tumbled to the floor.
The racket was deafening.
“My God,” Brother Eugene cried as he entered the classroom and beheld the bedlam. Desks andchairs were falling apart as if being demolished by mysterious unheard dynamite explosions.
Brother Eugene rushed to his desk, that haven of security behind which a teacher always found protection. At his touch, the desk swayed drunkenly, shifted gears into a lopsided position and—miracle of miracles—remained upright at that strange tipsy angle. But his chair collapsed.
Boys scrambled madly and merrily around the room. Once they realized what was happening they dashed around Room Nineteen testing all the desks and chairs, watching with glee as they fell apart, and toppling the stubborn pieces of furniture that refused to go down without help.
“Wow,” somebody yelled.
“The Vigils,” somebody else called out—giving credit where credit was due.
The destruction of Room Nineteen took exactly thirty-seven seconds. Archie timed it from the doorway. A sweetness gathered in his breast as he saw the room being turned into a shambles, a sweet moment of triumph that compensated for all the other lousy things, his terrible marks, the black box. Witnessing the pandemonium, he knew that this was one of his major triumphs, one of those long-shot assignments that paid off beautifully, certain to become legend. He could picture Trinity students of the future discussing in wonder the day Room Nineteenexploded. He found it hard to suppress a howl of delight as he surveyed the havoc—
I made this happen
—and saw Brother Eugene’s trembling chin and horror-stricken expression.
Behind the brother, the huge blackboard suddenly tore loose from its moorings and slid majestically to the floor, like a final curtain dropping on the chaos.
“You!”
Archie heard the voice in all its fury at the same instant that he felt the hands spinning him around. He swiveled to encounter Brother Leon. Leon wasn’t pale at this moment. Scarlet splotches glistened on his cheeks as if he had been made up for some grotesque stage show. A horror show maybe, because there was nothing funny about him at this moment.
“You!” Leon said again, a wicked whisper that spilled into Archie’s face the foul aftertaste of Leon’s breakfast—the smell of stale bacon and eggs. “You did this,” Leon said, digging the fingernails of one hand into Archie’s shoulder while pointing to the chaos of Room Nineteen with the other.
Curious students from other classes had now gathered around the two entrances to the room, drawn by the crash and clatter.
Sitting back in comfort, Archie sighed now, contented, gratified by the heights his sense of fairness and compassion could reach.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
IT WAS AS IF somebody had dropped The Bomb.
Brian Kelly started it all when he touched his chair. It collapsed.
Then, everything happened at once.
Albert LeBlanc brushed against a desk as he made his way down the aisle and it fell apart after trembling crazily for a moment. The impact sent out vibrations which shot down two other chairs and a desk.
John Lowe was about to sit down when he heard the noise of collapsing furniture. He turned and in doing so touched his own desk. The desk disintegrated before his astonished eyes. Leaping backward, he hit his chair. Nothing happened to his chair. But Henry Couture’s desk behind it shivered violently and tumbled to the floor.
The racket was deafening.
“My God,” Brother Eugene cried as he entered the classroom and beheld the bedlam. Desks andchairs were falling apart as if being demolished by mysterious unheard dynamite explosions.
Brother Eugene rushed to his desk, that haven of security behind which a teacher always found protection. At his touch, the desk swayed drunkenly, shifted gears into a lopsided position and—miracle of miracles—remained upright at that strange tipsy angle. But his chair collapsed.
Boys scrambled madly and merrily around the room. Once they realized what was happening they dashed around Room Nineteen testing all the desks and chairs, watching with glee as they fell apart, and toppling the stubborn pieces of furniture that refused to go down without help.
“Wow,” somebody yelled.
“The Vigils,” somebody else called out—giving credit where credit was due.
The destruction of Room Nineteen took exactly thirty-seven seconds. Archie timed it from the doorway. A sweetness gathered in his breast as he saw the room being turned into a shambles, a sweet moment of triumph that compensated for all the other lousy things, his terrible marks, the black box. Witnessing the pandemonium, he knew that this was one of his major triumphs, one of those long-shot assignments that paid off beautifully, certain to become legend. He could picture Trinity students of the future discussing in wonder the day Room Nineteenexploded. He found it hard to suppress a howl of delight as he surveyed the havoc—
I made this happen
—and saw Brother Eugene’s trembling chin and horror-stricken expression.
Behind the brother, the huge blackboard suddenly tore loose from its moorings and slid majestically to the floor, like a final curtain dropping on the chaos.
“You!”
Archie heard the voice in all its fury at the same instant that he felt the hands spinning him around. He swiveled to encounter Brother Leon. Leon wasn’t pale at this moment. Scarlet splotches glistened on his cheeks as if he had been made up for some grotesque stage show. A horror show maybe, because there was nothing funny about him at this moment.
“You!” Leon said again, a wicked whisper that spilled into Archie’s face the foul aftertaste of Leon’s breakfast—the smell of stale bacon and eggs. “You did this,” Leon said, digging the fingernails of one hand into Archie’s shoulder while pointing to the chaos of Room Nineteen with the other.
Curious students from other classes had now gathered around the two entrances to the room, drawn by the crash and clatter.
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