Ray shrugged and picked up his books. What the hell. He'd been alone too long. Maybe he was getting paranoid about the school. Actually he should be grateful for this kid called Obie. Trudging behind him now, Ray thought wistfully of Caleb and the Cape, and the sea lapping the shore like the tongue of an old and friendly dog. No sea here, no benevolent sun. No girls lounging on the beach. He'd better make do with what he had: at the moment, a ride home with a guy who might become a friend.
Obie was properly impressed by Ray Bannister's manipulation of the Stripper Deck, watching in awe as the card Obie had selected, the queen of hearts, appeared magically before him, unerringly drawn from the deck although Ray had not known its identity. Ray did it again — although magicians should never repeat their tricks, he said — with the three of diamonds and the ace of clubs, and Obie was fooled each time.
"The hand is quicker than the eye, to coin a cliche," Ray said, laughing, obviously delighted with the effect on Obie. He had been hesitant about performing for Obie at first, but the kid had seemed so genuinely interested and friendly that he had taken a chance. His nervousness had disappeared as he shuffled the deck. He was pleasantly surprised to see his fingers behaving so beautifully.
"Wow," Obie said, sincere in his admiration. But his mind was also working. Here was a kid with an obvious talent: how could it be used for the Vigils? "Do you do anything else?" he asked.
Ray hesitated once more. He was not as skilled with the Cups and Balls, but the effects were simpler to attain. Frowning, studying Obie, trying to judge if Obie was really being sincere, Ray thought: Why not give it a whirl?
So he took out the cups, balls, and a small table and was amazed once more at his performance, making the red balls appear, it seemed, at will from under the cup of his choice. Palming one ball, he passed it swiftly to his other hand and then appeared to be taking it out of Obie's ear.
Obie looked thunderstruck, his mouth open in astonishment.
"What's the matter?" Ray asked, puzzled. Hadn't Obie ever seen the ball trick before?
"Will you do that again, Ray? I mean, make the ball disappear in your hand and then appear someplace else?"
"I'm not supposed to do it twice," Ray said. But did it anyway, because he liked the challenge. Obie would be watching him closely now, anticipating his every move. And anticipation was fatal to illusion, making it difficult for Ray to use misdirection, a magician's most powerful tool. He wondered if he should tell him about the guillotine.
The red ball, no larger than a marble, flashed in the air. Obie watched closely. Ray's hands moved, open-palmed; fingers wiggled and then nothing — the ball vanished. Ray reached out with his right hand — Obie could swear the hand was empty — and popped the ball into view, as if he had removed it from Obie's shirt pocket.
Turning away, blinking into the sunlight that slanted into the bedroom, Obie whistled softly, thinking of Archie. Had Archie all these years used sleight of hand when he drew the white marble from the box? Was that how he had avoided the assignments he would have had to take on if the black marble had appeared in his hand? The possibility dazzled Obie. Nothing was beyond Archie. Archie was always one step ahead of everybody else. The members of the Vigils had always been amazed at Archie's luck, resented, in fact, the way he laughed mockingly when the white marble appeared in his hand time after time. Archie had been taken by surprise only once, last fall during the chocolate fracas. That time Archie had also pulled out the white marble, but sweat had danced on his forehead — Archie, who never perspired — and he had looked apprehensive.
Obie regarded Ray Bannister once more. "Great, Ray," he said, "simply great." Then, 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 ever forget that name or that kid. "Renault still refused to sell the chocolates. Despite. . pressure."