Robert Cormier - Beyond the Chocolate War

Later, as the students filed from the hall, Ray Bannister confronted Obie: "I don't know what the hell you had in mind, Obie, and I don't want to know. But I'm glad the safety lock was working. Are you crazy or something?"

He turned away with such a withering look of disdain and disbelief that Obie began to shake and sweat, thinking how close he had come to murder, and didn't know whether to curse or thank Ray Bannister for the safety lock.

Archie, leaning against his car, shook his head, admitting for once that someone had been capable of surprising him, amazing him with actions he had been unable to predict.

"Congratulations, Obie. You've got more guts than I ever gave you credit for."

"Christ, Archie. ." Obie said, dismayed. For the first time in their relationship, Obie had heard admiration in Archie's voice, and words that could be construed as praise. For a sweet tempting moment, Obie almost succumbed to that praise and admiration. Then realized what had happened to him. What Archie had done to him. He had driven him to the point of murder. In order to earn Archie's praise, you had to be willing to murder someone, even if the murdered person had to be Archie himself.

He peered at Archie through slitted eyes, marveling at his confidence and ease despite the ordeal he had just endured, then saw something else, too, in Archie's eyes — what? — and made a leap of thought that almost took his breath away.

"Wait a minute, Archie," he said. "The black marble. ."

"What about the black marble?" Archie asked, amused. That was the light in Archie's eyes: amusement.

"You knew about the switch, didn't you? Saw Carter and me with the black box."

Archie nodded. "Never turn to a life of crime, Obie. You're too obvious. You always look suspicious. And you're clumsy."

"Then why did you go through with it? Why did you take the black marble?"

"I had to know, Obie."

"Know what?"

"What would happen. How far you would go."

"You took that chance?" Obie said, his turn to be awed now.

"Not much of a chance, Obie. I knew that I would win, that nobody at Trinity — you, Carter, even Brother Leon — could make me a loser."

"Why didn't you ever get the black marble all these years?" But Obie knew, of course. He realized he had known ever since Ray Bannister had demonstrated the tricks with marbles at his home, the day they met.

Archie waved his hand and produced a white marble from nowhere, rolling it on his fingers, tossing it from one hand to another, the marble like a small, pale moon leaping in space. "I knew about that Worcester store a long, long time ago," he said, laughing lightly. Then inclined his head and spoke almost dreamily. "But I didn't always play the trick, Obie. A lot of times I just took a chance. Had to do it that way. Testing. And I never lost. . "

Obie shook his head. Seemed he was always shaking his head when Archie was around. Shaking his head in dismay or admiration or disgust. And didn't quite know which at this moment.

"Can I ask you something, Obie?"

"Sure." But get it over with, Archie. He wanted suddenly to get away from him, away from Trinity, as if the crime had actually been committed. Like any murderer wanting to leave the scene of the crime.

"Why, Obie?"

"What do you mean — why?"

"Why did you want to kill me?"

"Why?" Obie asked, his turn to be surprised now. "Are you blind, Archie? Don't you see what's been going on at Trinity all this time? What you've done to me? To everybody?"

"What have I done, Obie? You tell me what I've done."

Obie flung his hand in the air, the gesture encompassing all the rotten things that had occurred under Archie's command, at Archie's direction. The ruined kids, the capsized hopes. Renault last fall and poor Tubs Casper and all the others, including even the faculty. Like Brother Eugene.

"You know what you've done, Archie. I don't need to draw up a list—"

"You blame me for everything, right, Obie? You and Carter and all the others. Archie Costello, the bad guy. The villain. Archie, the bastard. Trinity would be such a beautiful place without Archie Costello. Right, Obie? But it's not me, Obie, it's not me. . "

"Not you?" Obie cried, fury gathering in his throat, his chest, his guts. "What the hell do you mean, not you? This could have been a beautiful place to be, Archie. A beautiful time for all of us. Christ, who else, if not you?"

"You really want to know who?"

"Okay, who, then?" Impatient with his crap, the old Archie crap.

"It's you, Obie. You and Carter and Bunting and Leon and everybody. But especially you, Obie. Nobody forced you to do anything, buddy. Nobody made you join the Vigils. Nobody twisted your arm to make you secretary of the Vigils. Nobody paid you to keep a notebook with all that crap about the students, all their weaknesses, soft points. The notebook made your job easier, didn't it, Obie? And what was your job? Finding the victims. You found them, Obie. You found Renault and Tubs Casper and Gendreau — the first one, remember, when we were sophomores? — how you loved it all, didn't you, Obie?" Archie flicked a finger against the metal of the car, and the ping was like a verbal exclamation mark. "Know what, Obie? You could have said no anytime, anytime at all. But you didn't. . " Archie's voice was filled with contempt, and he pronounced Obie's name as if it were something to be flushed down a toilet.

"Oh, I'm an easy scapegoat, Obie. For you and everybody else at Trinity. Always have been. But you had free choice, buddy. Just like Brother Andrew always says in Religion. Free choice, Obie, and you did the choosing. . "

A sound escaped from Obie's lips, the sound a child might make hearing that his mother and father had been killed in an auto accident on their way home. The sound had death in it. And truth. The terrible truth that Archie was right, of course. He had blamed Archie all along. Had been willing to cut off his head, for crissake.

"Don't feel bad, Obie," Archie said, the tenderness in his voice again. "You've just joined the human race. . "

Obie shook his head. "Not your kind of human race, Archie. Okay, maybe I'm not the good guy anymore. I admit that, I accept it. Maybe I'll confess it at church. But what about you? You just go on and on. What the hell are you?"

"I am Archie Costello," he said. "And I'll always be there, Obie. You'll always have me wherever you go and whatever you do. Tomorrow, ten years from now. Know why, Obie? Because I'm you. I'm all the things you hide inside you. That's me—"

"Cut it out," Obie said. He hated it when Archie began to get fancy, spinning his wheels. "What you're saying is a lot of crap. I know who you are. And I know who I am." But do I, he wondered, do I?

He wrenched himself away from Archie although Archie had not been touching him or holding him back. Archie shrugged, opened his car door, movements casual and cool as usual, as he slipped into the seat. Obie could feel Archie's eyes on him as he walked away, those cold intelligent eyes.

"Good-bye, Obie," he called.

He had never said good-bye before.

"I have a confession to make. A confession of guilt," Brother Leon said, addressing the final assembly of the year at Trinity High School.

"My guilt is my involvement in the recent tragic death of a Trinity student, David Caroni.

"You have heard the rumors, I trust.

"And have read accounts in the newspaper.

"I have called this extraordinary assembly in the last days of the school year to set the record straight because of what Trinity is — a school of both academic and athletic splendor, a place of honor.

"We have many traditions here at Trinity.

"And a search for truth is one of them. We search for truth in our classrooms, in our informal discussions, in our daily lives.