Chapter Twenty-Two

B rian Cochran couldn't believe his eyes. He went through the totals again, double-checking, making sure he hadn't screwed up. Frowning, biting the pencil, he pondered the results of his arithmetic — sales were dropping at an alarming rate. For a week now, they'd been going steadily downward. But yesterday, the sharpest drop of all.

What would Brother Leon say? That was Brian's main concern. Brian hated the job of treasurer because it was such a drag but mostly because it brought him into personal contact with Brother Leon. Leon gave Brian the chills. The teacher was unpredictable, moody. He was never satisfied. Complaints, complaints — your sevens look like nines, Cochran. Or, you spelled Sulkey's name wrong — it's Sulkey with an e, Cochran.

Brian had been lucky recently. Brother Leon had stopped checking the totals on a daily basis, almost as if he anticipated the bad news the figures contained and wanted to avoid finding out about it definitely. Today was zero hour, however. He had told Brian to prepare the totals. Now Brian waited for the teacher to show up. He'd go ape when he saw the figures. Brian shivered, actually shivered! He'd read how in historic times they killed the bearer of bad news. He had the feeling that Brother Leon was that kind of character, that he would need a scapegoat and Brian would be closest at hand. Brian sighed, tired of it all, wishing he were outside on this beautiful October day, gunning around in the old Chevy his father had bought him when school started. He loved the car. " Me and my Chevy, " Brian hummed to the tune of a song he'd heard on the radio.

" Well, Brian. "

Brother Leon had a way of sneaking up on you. Brian leaped and almost came to attention. That's the kind of lousy effect the teacher had on him.

" Yes, Brother Leon. "

" Sit, sit, " Leon said, and took his place behind the desk. Leon was sweating, as usual. He had removed his black jacket and his shirt was stained with wetness at the armpits. A faint smell of perspiration reached Brian.

" The totals are bad, " Brian said, plunging, wanting to get it over with, wanting to get out of the school, this office, Leon's suffocating presence. And feeling simultaneously a twist of triumph — Leon was such a rat, let him have some bad news for a change.

" Bad? "

" The sales are down. Below last year's. And last year, the quota was half of what has to be sold this year. "

" I know, I know, " Leon said sharply, swiveling away in his desk chair as if Brian weren't important enough to be addressed directly. " Are you sure of your figures? You're not exactly a whiz at adding and subtracting, Cochran. "

Brian flushed with anger. He was tempted to throw the master sheet at the Brother but held back. Nobody defied Brother Leon. Not Brian Cochran, anyway, who only wanted to get out of here.

" I double-checked everything, " Brian said, keeping his voice even.

Silence.

The floor vibrated under Brian's feet. The boxing club working out in the gym, maybe, doing calisthenics or the other stuff boxers did.

" Cochran. Read off the names of the boys who have reached or surpassed their quota. "

Brian reached for the lists. A simple task because Brother Leon insisted that all kinds of cross-indexed lists be kept so that you could tell at a glance just where students stood.

" Sulkey, sixty-two. Maronia, fifty-eight. LeBlanc, fifty-two — "

" Slower, slower, " Brother Leon said, still facing away from Brian. " Begin again and slower. "

It was spooky but Brian began again, pronouncing the names more exactly, pausing between names and figures.

" Sulkey… sixty-two… Maronia… fifty-eight… LeBlanc… fifty-two… Caroni… fifty…"

Brother Leon was nodding his head, as if listening to a beautiful symphony, as if lovely sounds filled the air.

" Fontaine… fifty…" Brian paused. " Those are the only ones who either made the quota or topped it, Brother Leon. "

" Read the others. There are many students who sold over forty. Read those names…" His face still turned away, his body slouched in the chair.

Brian shrugged and continued, calling out the names in singsong fashion, with measured pauses, letting his voice linger over the names and numbers, a weird litany here in the quiet office. When he ran out of the sales in the forties, he continued into the thirties and Brother Leon did not tell him to halt.

" …Sullivan…thirty-three…Charlton…thirty-two…Kelly…thirty-two…Ambrose…thirty-one…"

Once in a while Brian looked up to see Brother Leon's head nodding, as if he were communicating with someone unseen or only himself. While the recitation went on — from the thirties into the twenties.

His eyes running ahead, Brian saw that he was in for trouble. After he was through with the twenties and the teens, there was a big leap. He wondered how Brother Leon would react to the small returns. Brian began to grow warm and his voice turned hoarse. He needed a drink of water, not only to relieve the dryness of his throat but to ease the tension of his neck muscles.

" …Antonelli…fifteen…Lombard…thirteen…" He cleared his throat, breaking the rhythm, interrupting the flow of the report. A deep breath and then, " Cartier…six. " He shot a look at Brother Leon but the teacher hadn't moved. His hands were clasped together, resting in his lap: " Cartier… he only sold six because he's been out of school. Appendicitis. He's been in the hospital…"

Brother Leon waved his hand, a gesture that said, " I understand, it doesn't matter. " At least, that's what Brian figured it meant. And the gesture also seemed to mean " continue. " He looked at the last name on the list.

" Renault… zero. "

The pause. No names left.

" Renault… zero, " Brother Leon said, his voice a sibilant whisper. " Can you imagine that, Cochran? A Trinity boy who has refused to sell the chocolates? Do you know what's happened, Cochran? Do you know why the sales have fallen off? "

" I don't know, Brother Leon, " Brian said lamely.

" The boys have become infected, Cochran. Infected by a disease we could call apathy. A terrible disease. Difficult to cure. "

What was he talking about?

" Before a cure can be found, the cause must be discovered. But in this case, Cochran, the cause is known. The carries of the disease is known. "

Brian knew what he was getting at now. Leon figured that Renault was the cause, the-carrier of the disease. As if reading Brian's mind, Leon whispered " Renault… Renault…"

Like a mad scientist plotting revenge in an underground laboratory, for crying out loud.