Like Tubs.
Obie had learned about Tubs Casper's existence as a Trinity student in the final frantic days of the chocolate sale last fall. Checking the sales roster for delinquents — guys who had not sold their quotas — he had seen Tubs's name listed as having made two sales. Preposterous. It had taken Obie three days to track him down. Tubs had proved elusive, staying a few steps ahead of Obie, quite a feat when you considered Tubs and all that fat. Somehow, Tubs always seemed to have left a room moments before Obie got there. Or stepped on the school bus just as it drove away. Obie finally caught up with Tubs Casper at Cogg's Park one evening, spotting him with a girl, the girl clinging to Tubs the way ivy clung to the south-side wall of Trinity. Obie knew immediately what had been going on, knew that Tubs had been selling chocolates all along and not making returns, spending the money on the girclass="underline" typical. Sitting in his car, he watched Tubs and the girl cavorting as they strolled along, feeding the pigeons, pausing on a bench. The girl couldn't keep her hands off Tubs. She brushed him continually with her breasts. She was built beautifully, tight sweater, tighter jeans. Obie felt himself swelling with envy and lust (this was before Laurie, of course), and knew he had Tubs Casper exactly where he wanted him.
Obie had confronted Tubs later that night, waiting for him at his doorstep.
"But what about Rita?" Tubs had cried. "She's in love with that bracelet."
"That's the point, Casper," Obie had said. "She's in love with the bracelet. Not you. Figure it as a test. Make those returns tomorrow morning at school. Then see what happens with Rita. If she loves you, it won't make any difference to her if you don't buy the bracelet. . "
Confused, riddled with guilt, exhausted from lack of sleep, Obie shrank back into the shadows of the storage room wondering: What the hell am I doing here, anyway? But knew that he couldn't leave, not yet, not until he found out the real reason for the meeting.
"Do you know the procedure here?" Archie asked Tubs.
Obie watched Tubs Casper nodding his head eagerly. He had never intended to nominate Tubs for an assignment: The kid had enough troubles with his weight and with Rita, the teenage sexpot. Because Rita had broken up with Tubs when he hadn't bought the bracelet. Obie had met him on the street a few days later. "What happened?" he'd asked Tubs.
And Tubs, defeated looking, his pudgy face like that of an old man suddenly, said: "You know what happened." No resentment in his voice, no anger, only a heavy, weary acceptance of what life is.
"That's the way it goes, kid," Obie had said, strolling away, walking away from the temptation to tell the lad: Look, be happy, I'm not turning you in for an assignment. See the favor I'm doing you? Yet, taunted by Archie — and, yes, manipulated — he had eventually handed over Tubs Casper as a victim to save his own reputation as a selector of victims.
Archie's voice reached him again.
"You know, Ernest, there is nothing personal in these assignments?"
Tubs nodded, resigned, wanting to get it over with.
"Okay," Archie said, pausing.
This was the beautiful moment Vigil members looked forward to, the moment when Archie revealed his latest assignment, his newest caper, some of the beauty coming from the fact they were not victims, like the moment you are plunged into grief when a rotten thing happens to someone else and that small spurt of guilty relief when you tell yourself: It's not me.
"How much do you weigh, Ernest?" Archie asked.
Tubs squirmed, hated to talk about his weight. But knew he could not deny Archie any information he wanted.
"One hundred and seventy-five."
"Exactly?"
Tubs nodded disgustedly. "I weighed myself this morning."
"That's not so fat, Ernest," Archie said.
Again, Tubs had the sensation that he and Archie were alone in this place, that Archie was his friend.
"In fact," Archie said, "I think you could use a bit of weight. Say, like, twenty pounds. Give you more. . stature. Make you more of an imposing figure. ."
"Twenty pounds?" Tubs said, disbelief making his voice squeak.
"Right."
Someone sighed, the kind of sigh that comes with comprehension, and a slight shudder rippled through the room.
"That's the assignment, Ernest. Put on twenty pounds. In the next, say, four weeks. That will bring us almost to the end of school. Eat to your heart's content, Ernest. You love to eat, don't you? And four weeks from now we'll meet here. We'll have a scale."
Tubs opened his mouth. Didn't know why he opened his mouth. Certainly not to protest. Nobody protested an assignment. Stood there gaping, the prospect of more weight staggering to his mind. His life was dedicated to trying to lose weight, despite the fact that he was always hungry, always starved, and always lost the battle. But gaining purposely?
"Close your mouth, Tubs, and get out of here," Archie said, no longer the gentle Archie, the tender Assigner.
Tubs did just that. Hurried his ponderous body out of that terrible place, tripping on somebody's foot as he made his way to the door.
"Beautiful," someone called out. But certainly not Obie, who felt small and cheap as he watched Tubs stumbling out the door.
Archie called for the black box with a snap of his fingers, wasted no time as he thrust his hand inside and withdrew the white marble, looked at it with amusement, and tossed it back.
The members of the Vigils rustled in their seats, preparing for departure. But Archie held up his hand.
"I have an announcement to make," he said, his words as cold as ice cubes rattling in a tray.
He glanced at Carter, waiting for him to bang the gavel.
The gavel was an important part of Vigil meetings.
And Carter had become the master of its use.
Carter banged the gavel to emphasize Archie's words and actions, the way a drummer underscores the movements of a juggler or a magician on the stage. He'd hit the desk to prod some poor quivering kid into an answer. Or to provide impact for Archie's pronouncements.
Archie waited for attention to focus completely on him once more. Carter tensed himself.
"I've received word," Archie said, "that the Bishop's visit to Trinity has been canceled."
Carter dropped the gavel.
Archie looked at Carter with contempt, waited for him to pick it up, then spoke again.
"Which means that there will be no day off. It's canceled."
Quick intakes of breath, stirrings among the Vigils, a whispered "Aw, shit" from someone.
Archie searched the room with those cold and merciless eyes, assessing the impact of his news.
Obie caught Archie's questioning scrutiny, the intensity of his search. He knew the great Archie Costello intimately enough to realize that something had gone askew.
Carter's hand seemed welded to the handle of the gavel. Blood raced under the surface of his flesh, pounding its way to his face.
"But it also means something else," Archie said, drawing the words out slowly, and all the time studying his audience, looking at them as if he had never seen them before.
Obie frowned, puzzled, glad that he was standing in the shadows, virtually unseen.
Ah, but Archie saw everything, and he turned his eyes now on Obie.
"What do you think that something else is, Obie?"
Stymied, Obie shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Bunting?"
Bunting leaped with surprise as if someone had goosed him, one of the more ordinary pastimes at Trinity. He had been uncomfortable about Obie's presence in the room, had barely followed Archie's conversation with Tubs Casper. Hearing Obie's voice now, he gained confidence. Obie certainly wouldn't be answering Archie's questions so normally if he suspected that one of the guys who had attacked him and his girl was in the room.