Chapter Twenty-Three

I 'm quitting the team, Jerry. "

" Why, Goob? I thought you liked football. We're just starting to click. You made a sensational catch yesterday. "

They were headed for the bus stop. Today was Wednesday — no practice on Wednesday. Jerry was looking forward to arriving at the bus stop. There was a girl, beautiful, with hair like maple syrup. He'd seen her there a few times and she'd smiled at him. One day he'd gotten close enough to read her name on one of the schoolbooks she held in her arms. Ellen Barrett. Someday he'd get up the courage to speak to her. Hi, Ellen. Or call her on the telephone. Today maybe.

" Let's run, " Goober said.

Off they went on a 'mad and awkward sprint. Their books prevented them from running with grace and abandon. But the mere act of running cheered up The Goober.

" Are you serious about quitting the team? " Jerry asked, his voice higher than usual, strained from the running.

" I've got to quit, Jerry. " He was glad that his own voice was normal, unaffected by the running.

They turned into Gate Street.

" Why? " Jerry asked, launching himself into Gate Street with a burst of speed.

Their feet pounded on the pavement.

How can I tell him, Goob wondered.

Jerry had shot ahead. He glanced back over his shoulder, his face crimson with effort. " Why, damn it? "

The Goober caught up to him with a slight acceleration of his pace. He could easily have slid past him.

" Did you hear what happened to Brother Eugene? " The Goober asked.

" He got transferred, " Jerry answered, squeezing the words out of himself like toothpaste from a tube. He was in good shape because of football but he wasn't a runner and didn't know the tricks.

" I heard he's gone on sick leave, " Goober said.

" What's the difference? " Jerry replied. He took a deep sweet breath. " Hey, my legs are okay but my arms are killing me. " He carried two books in each hand.

" Keep running. "

" You're some kind of nut, " Jerry said, humoring him.

They were approaching the intersection of Green and Gate. Seeing Jerry's discomfort, The Goober slackened his pace. " They say Brother Eugene's never been the same since Room Nineteen. They say he's all broken up over it. Can't eat or sleep. The shock. "

" Rumors, " Jerry gasped. " Hey, Goob, my lungs are burning up. I'm in a state of collapse. "

" I know how he feels, Jerry. I know how a thing like that can drive somebody up a wall. " Shouting the words into the wind. They had never discussed the destruction of Room Nineteen although Jerry knew about Goober's involvement. " Some people can't stand cruelty, Jerry. And that was a cruel thing to do to a guy like Eugene…"

" What's Brother Eugene got to do with not playing football? " Jerry asked, really gasping now, really sweating, his lungs threatening to burst and his arms aching from the burden of the books.

Goober put on the brakes, slackening his pace, coming finally to a halt. Jerry blew air out of his mouth as he collapsed on the edge of someone's front lawn. His chest rose and fell like human bellows.

The Goober sat on the curbstone, his legs jack-knifed, his feet in the gutter. He studied the leaves clustered beneath his feet. He was trying to find a way to explain to Jerry the connection between Brother Eugene and Room Nineteen and not playing football anymore. He knew there was a connection but it was hard to put into words.

" Look, Jerry. There's something rotten in that school. More than rotten. " He groped for the word and found it but didn't want to use it. The word didn't fit the surroundings, the sun and the bright October afternoon. It was a midnight word, a howling wind word.

" The Vigils? " Jerry asked. He'd lain back on the lawn and was looking at the blue sky, the hurrying autumn clouds.

" That's part of it, " The Goober said. He wished they were still running. " Evil, " he said.

" What did you say? "

Crazy. Jerry would think he'd flipped. " Nothing, " Goober said. " Anyway, I'm not going to play football. It's a personal thing, Jerry. " He took a deep breath. " And I'm not going out for track next spring. "

They sat in silence.

" What's the matter, Goob? " Jerry finally asked, voice troubled and loaded with concern.

" It's what they do to us, Jerry. " It was easier saying the words because they weren't looking at each other, both staring ahead. " What they did to me that night in the classroom — I was crying like a baby, something I never thought I'd do again in my life. And what they did to Brother Eugene, wrecking his room, wrecking him …"

" Aw, take it easy, Goob. "

" And what they're doing to you — the chocolates. "

" It's all a game, Goob. Think of it as fun and games. Let them have their fun. Brother Eugene must have been on the borderline, anyway…"

" It's more than fun and games, Jerry. Anything that can make you cry and send a teacher away — tip him over the borderline — that's more than just fun and games. "

They sat there for a long time, Jerry on the lawn and Goober on the curb. Jerry knew he'd be to late now to see the girl — Ellen Barrett — but he felt that Goober needed his presence at this moment. Some of the guys from school passed by and called to them. A bus came along and halted. The driver was disgusted when The Goober shook his head that they didn't want a ride.

After a while, Goober said, " Sell the chocolates, Jerry, will you? "

Jerry said, " Play football. "

Goober shook his head. " I'm not giving anything more to Trinity. Not football, not running, not anything. "

They sat in sadness. Finally, they gathered their books, got up, and walked in silence to the bus stop.

The girl wasn't there.