sk.thetalisman-第79节

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crew…ups　during　their　orientation　period；　Jack　thought　their　chances　for　escape　would　be　better　if　they　blended　in　as　pletely　as　they　could　as　soon　as　they　could。　With　Wolf；　that　wasn't　going　to　be　easy。　Christ；　I'm　sorry　I　got　you　into　this；　big　guy；　Jack　thought。　But　the　situation　is　what　the　situation　is。　And　if　we　can't　ride　it；　it's　gonna　ride　us　down。　So　if　I'm　hard　with　you；　it's　for　your　own　good。　He　added　miserably　to　himself；　I　hope。
　　'Wolf；'　he　whispered；　'do　you　want　Singer　to　start　beating　on　me　again？'
　　'No；　Jack；　no　。　。　。　'
　　'Then　you　better　e　out　in　the　hall　with　me；'　Jack　said。　'You　have　to　remember　that　what　you　do　is　going　to　have　a　lot　to　do　with　how　Singer　and　that　guy　Bast　treat　me。　Singer　slapped　me　around　because　of　your　stones…'
　　'Someone　might　slap　him　around；'　Wolf　said。　His　voice　was　low　and　mild；　but　his　eyes　suddenly　narrowed；　flared　orange。　For　a　moment　Jack　saw　the　gleam　of　white　teeth　between　Wolf's　lips…not　as　if　Wolf　had　grinned；　but　as　if　his　teeth　had　grown。
　　'Don't　even　think　of　that；'　Jack　said　grimly。　'It'll　only　makes　things　worse。'　Wolf's　arms　fell　away　from　his　head。　'Jack；　I　don't　know　。　。　。　'
　　'Will　you　try？'　Jack　asked。　He　threw　another　urgent　glance　at　the　door。
　　'I'll　try；'　Wolf　whispered　shakily。　Tears　shone　in　his　eyes。
　　　
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　　The　upstairs　corridor　should　have　been　bright　with　late…afternoon　light；　but　it　wasn't。　It　was　as　if　some　sort　of　filtering　device　had　been　fitted　over　the　windows　at　the　end　of　the　corridor　so　that　the　boys　could　see　out…out　to　where　the　real　sunlight　was…but　that　the　light　itself　wasn't　allowed　to　enter。　It　seemed　to　drop　dead　on　the　narrow　inner　sills　of　those　high　Victorian　windows。
　　There　were　forty　boys　standing　in　front　of　twenty　doors；　ten　on　each　side。　Jack　and　Wolf　were　by　far　the　last　to　appear；　but　their　lateness　was　not　noticed。　Singer；　Bast；　and　two　other　boys　had　found　someone　to　rag　and　could　not　be　bothered　with　taking　attendance。
　　Their　victim　was　a　narrow…chested；　bespectacled　kid　of　maybe　fifteen。　He　was　standing　at　a　sorry　approximation　of　attention　with　his　chinos　puddled　around　his　black　shoes。　He　wore　no　underpants。
　　'Have　you　stopped　it　yet？'　Singer　asked。
　　'I…'
　　'Shut　up！'　One　of　the　other　boys　with　Singer　and　Bast　yelled　this　last。　The　four　of　them　wore　blue　jeans　instead　of　chinos；　and　clean　white　turtleneck　sweaters。　Jack　learned　soon　enough　that　the　fellow　who　had　just　shouted　was　War…wick。　The　fat　fourth　was　Casey。
　　'When　we　want　you　to　talk；　we'll　ask　you！'　Warwick　shouted　now。　'You　still　whipping　your　weasel；　Morton？'　Morton　trembled　and　said　nothing。
　　'ANSWER　HIM！'　Casey　shrieked。　He　was　a　tubby　boy　who　looked　a　little　bit　like　a　malevolent　Tweedledum。
　　'No；'　Morton　whispered。
　　'WHAT？　SPEAK　UP！'　Singer　yelled。
　　'No！'　Morton　moaned。
　　'If　you　can　stop　for　a　whole　week；　you'll　get　your　underpants　back；'　Singer　said　with　the　air　of　one　conferring　a　great　favor　on　an　undeserving　subject。　'Now　pull　up　your　pants；　you　little　creep。'　
　　Morton；　sniffling；　bent　over　and　pulled　up　his　trousers。
　　The　boys　went　down　to　confession　and　supper。
　　　
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　　Confession　was　held　in　a　large　bare…walled　room　across　the　way　from　the　dining　hall。　The　maddening　smells　of　baked　beans　and　hotdogs　drifted　across；　and　Jack　could　see　Wolf's　nostrils　flaring　rhythmically。　For　the　first　time　that　day　the　dull　expression　left　his　eyes　and　he　began　to　look　interested。
　　Jack　was　more　wary　of　'confession'　than　he　had　let　on　to　Wolf。　Lying　in　his　upper　bunk　with　his　hands　behind　his　head；　he　had　seen　a　black　something　in　the　upper　corner　of　the　room。　He　had　thought　for　a　moment　or　two　that　it　was　some　sort　of　a　dead　beetle；　or　the　husk　of　its　shell…he　thought　if　he　got　closer　he　would　perhaps　see　the　spider's　web　the　thing　was　caught　in。　It　had　been　a　bug；　all　right；　but　not　the　organic　kind。　It　was　a　small；　old…fashioned…looking　microphone　gadget；　screwed　into　the　wall　with　an　eyebolt。　A　cord　snaked　from　the　back　of　it　and　through　a　ragged　hole　in　the　plaster。　There　had　been　no　real　effort　to　conceal　it。　Just　part　of　the　service；　boys。　Sunlight　Gardener　Listens　Better。
　　After　seeing　the　bug；　after　the　ugly　little　scene　with　Morton　in　the　hall；　he　had　expected　confession　to　be　an　angry；　perhaps　scary；　adversary　situation。　Someone；　possibly　Sunlight　Gardener　himself；　more　probably　Sonny　Singer　or　Hector　Bast；　would　try　to　get　him　to　admit　that　he　had　used　drugs　on　the　road；　that　he　had　broken　into　places　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　robbed　while　on　the　road；　that　he　had　spit　on　every　sidewalk　he　could　find　while　on　the　road；　and　played　with　himself　after　a　hard　day　on　the　road。　If　he　hadn't　done　any　of　those　things；　they　would　keep　after　him　until　he　admitted　them；　anyway。　They　would　try　to　break　him。　Jack　thought　he　could　hold　up　under　such　treatment；　but　he　wasn't　sure　Wolf　could。
　　But　what　was　most　disturbing　about　confession　was　the　eagerness　with　which　the　boys　in　the　Home　greeted　it。
　　The　inner　cadre…the　boys　in　the　white　turtlenecks…sat　down　near　the　front　of　the　room。　Jack　looked　around　and　saw　the　others　looking　toward　the　open　door　with　a　sort　of　witless　anticipation。　He　thought　it　must　be　supper　they　were　anticipating…it　smelled　very　damn　good；　all　right；　especially　after　all　those　weeks　of　pick…up　hamburgers　interspersed　with　large　helpings　of　nothing　at　all。　Then　Sunlight　Gardener　walked　briskly　in　and　Jack　saw　the　expressions　of　anticipation　change　to　looks　of　gratification。　Apparently　it　hadn't　been　dinner　they　had　been　looking　forward　to；　after　all。　Morton；　who　had　been　cowering　in　the　upper　hallway　with　his　pants　puddled　around　his　ankles　only　fifteen　minutes　ago；　looked　almost　exalted。
　　The　boys　got　to　their　feet。　Wolf　sat；　nostrils　flaring；　looking　puzzled　and　frightened；　until　Jack　grabbed　a　fistful　of　shirt　and　pulled　him　up。
　　'Do　what　they　do；　Wolf；'　he　muttered。
　　'Sit　down；　boys；'　Gardener　said；　smiling。　'Sit　down；　please。'　They　sat。　Gardener　was　wearing　faded　blue　jeans　overtopped　with　an　open…throated　shirt　of　blinding　white　silk。　He　looked　at　them；　smiling　benignly。　The　boys　looked　back　worshipfully；　for　the　most　part。　Jack　saw　one　boy…wavy　brown　hair　that　came　to　a　deep　widow's　peak　on　his　brow；　receding　chin；　delicate　little　hands　as　pale　as　Uncle　Tommy's　Delftware…turn　aside　and　cup　his　mouth　to　hide　a　sneer；　and　he；　Jack；　felt　some　encouragement。　Apparently　not　everyone's　head　had　been　blown　by　whatever　was　going　on　here　。　。　。　but　a　lot　of　heads　had　been。　Wide…open　they　had　been　blown；　from　the　way　things　looked。　The　fellow　with　the　great　buck　teeth　was　looking　at　Sunlight　Gardener　adoringly。
　　'Let　us　pray。　Heck；　will　you　lead　us？'
　　Heck　did。　He　prayed　fast　and　mechanically。　It　was　like　listening　to　a　Dial…a…Prayer　recorded　by　a　dyslexic。　After　asking　God　to　favor　them　in　the　days　and　weeks　ahead；　to　forgive　them　their　trespasses　and　to　help　them　bee　better　people；　Heck　Bast　rapped　out；　'ForJesussakeamen；'　and　sat　down。
　　'Thank　you；　Heck；'　Gardener　said。　He　had　taken　an　armless　chair；　had　turned　it　around　backward；　and　was　sitting　on　it　like　a　range…ridin　cowpoke　in　a　John　Ford　Western。　He　was　at　his　most　charming　tonight；　the　sterile；　self…referring　craziness　Jack　had　seen　that　morning　was　almost　gone。　'Let　us　have　a　dozen　confessions；　please。　No　more　than　that。　Will　you　lead　us；　Andy？'　Warwick；　an　expression　of　ludicrous　piety　on　his　face；　took　Heck's　place。
　　'Thank　you；　Reverend　Gardener；'　he　said；　and　then　looked　at　the　boys。　'Confession；'　he　said。　'Who　will　start？'　
　　There　was　a　rustling　stir　。　。　。　and　then　hands　began　to　go　up。　Two　。　。　。　six　。　。　。　nine　of　them。
　　'Roy　Owdersfelt；'　Warwick　said。
　　Roy　Owdersfelt；　a　tall　boy　with　a　pimple　the　size　of　a　tumor　on　the　end　of　his　nose；　stood　up；　twisting　his　rawboned　hands　in　front　of　him。　'I　stole　ten　bucks　from　my　momma's　purse　last　year！'　he　announced　in　a　high；　screamy　voice。　One　scabbed；　grimy　hand　wandered　up　to　his　face；　settled　on　the　pimple；　and　gave　it　a　fearful　tweak。　'I　took　it　down　to　The　Wizard　of　Odds　and　I　turned　it　into　quarters　and　I　played　all　these　different　games　like　Pac…Man　and　Laser　Strike　until　it　was　gone！　That　was　money　she　had　put　away　against　the　gas　bill；　and　that's　how　e　for　a　while　they　turned　off　our　heat！'　He　blinked　around　at　them。　'And　my　brother　got　sick　and　had　to　go　in　the　hospital　up　in　Indianapolis　with　pneumonia！　Because　I　stole　that　money！
　　'That's　my　confession。'　Roy　Owdersfelt　sat　down。
　　Sunlight　Gardener　said；　'Can　Roy　be　forgiven？'　In　unison　the　boys　replied；　'Roy　can　be　forgiven。'
　　'Can　anyone　here　forgive　him；　boys？'
　　'No　one　here。'
　　'Who　can　forgive　him？'
　　'God　through　the　power　of　His　only　begotten　Son；　Jesus。'
　　'Will　you　pray　to　Jesus　to　intercede　for　you？'　Gardener　asked　Roy　Owdersfelt。
　　'Sure　am　gonna！'　Roy　Owdersfelt　cried　in　an　unsteady　voice；　and　tweaked　the　pimple　again。　Jack　saw　that　Roy　Owdersfelt　was　weeping。
　　'And　the　next　time　your　momma　es　here　are　you　going　to　tell　your　momma　that　you　know　you　sinned　against　her　and　your　little　brother　and　against　the　face　of　God　and　you're　just　as　sorry　a　boy　as　ever　there　was？'
　　'You　bet！'　Sunl