carefully: "How long did it take to learn the ball trick?" Trying to sound only casually interested.
"Not long. A few weeks. I've had time on my hands," Ray said. "Frankly, Obie, Trinity isn't the friendliest place on earth." Rolling the red ball between thumb and forefinger as Obie watched fascinated. "In fact, the school is kind of spooky. Is there something wrong with the place?"
Obie snapped out of his contemplation of the ball, wondering how much he should tell Ray Bannister about Trinity.
"Like I said, we've had a tough year," he began. A perception formed itself in his mind: Ray Bannister and his sleight of hand, something Archie didn't know about, a secret weapon Obie might be able to employ in the future. Maybe he should level with Bannister, let him know what was really going on at Trinity. What had gone on. . . .
"It's like this," Obie said. "We had our usual chocolate sale last fall. Our biggest fund-raiser. And a kid by the name of Jerry Renault, a freshman for crissake, refused to sell any. The only kid in school who refused to participate . . ."
Ray Bannister lifted both hands in a so what? gesture.
"The problem is that one rotten apple can spoil the barrel. And this kid became a kind of symbol. Other lads started to follow his lead. Everybody hates school sales to begin with. Brother Leon was ready to have a nervous breakdown. The Headmaster was in the hospital, Leon was in charge of the place . . ."
"All over chocolates?"
"It was twenty thousand boxes of chocolates."
Ray whistled.
"Right," Obie went on. "Leon bought them on the cheap. They were left over from Mother's Day. He bought them for a dollar a box. Which sounds okay except that means he spent twenty thousand dollars of school money—which he wasn't authorized to spend—for the chocolates. Which also means that each lad had to sell fifty boxes at two dollars to make a killing."
Obie was reluctant to say more, had been avoiding thoughts about the chocolate sale and Jerry Renault for months, sorry he had started to tell Ray Bannister the story. But he couldn't stop now.
"Anyway. The school was in an uproar. The guys were in an uproar. And the Vigils—"
"The Vigils?" Ray asked. "What's the Vigils?"
"Oh, boy." Obie sighed. How do you begin to explain the Vigils? The word was seldom spoken aloud on the Trinity campus. The brothers knew the organization existed but preferred to ignore it, allowing it to function because it served a purpose: kept peace at Trinity during a time when unrest and violence were sweeping the nation's schools and colleges. How to explain all that to a newcomer, someone who didn't know of the long tradition of the Vigils?
"Well, the Vigils is, like, a secret organization at Trinity. A guy by the name of Archie Costello is the Assigner. The Vigils has officers like any club—a jock named Carter is president and I'm secretary—but the Assigner is the key officer. In fact, the Assigner, Archie Costello, is the Vigils."
Ray turned away, puzzled. He didn't like this kind of stuff. Secret organizations. Assignors . . . "What the hell is an assigner?" he asked. And had a feeling that he really didn't want to know.
"Well, he assigns kids to certain . . . duties," Obie said, his words limping as if on crutches. "They have to perform certain acts—"
"Like in a college fraternity? Staying all night in the woods, stuff like that? Pranks? Stunts?"
Obie nodded, knowing that Archie would be furious to hear his meticulous assignments described as fraternity pranks and stunts. But he let the description stand. He couldn't tell Ray everything about the Vigils: in fact, he had probably told him too much already.
"Anyway, Brother Leon asked the Vigils to support the chocolate sale," Obie went on. "The first time Leon or any other faculty member acknowledged the existence of the club. That's how the Vigils got mixed up in it . . ."
"What about that kid? Jerry What's-his-name?" Ray asked.
"Renault," Obie supplied As if he could
Robert Asprin, Eric Del Carlo