Free Beyond the Chocolate War by Robert Cormier Page A

rectangle catching the ceiling light.
    His finger touched the blade but remained there, as if pinning the blade to the tub.
    He knew he couldn't do it, could not perform this act. Not now. Not today. Today was not the day, after all.
    A small glimmer lit up a corner of the dark thing his mind had become. Brother Leon's face glowed in that glimmer. Why should he go alone, leaving Leon behind, sparing him?
    He drew his hand back from the razor.
    Weary, exhausted, knowing he must endure this bleak existence for a while more.
    And remained in the tub, weeping, until the water grew cold.

D uring Vigil meetings or holding court on the school steps or simply walking around the campus, Archie was always in command, in control. The only place he was not in control—although he admitted this to no one—was in Leon's office. Leon never summoned Archie to a meeting without a solid reason for doing so, and Archie always went to the meetings with his guard up, a bit on edge. Not exactly nervous: Leon didn't have the power to make him nervous.
    Archie admitted to a degree of uncertainty now, as he stepped into Leon's study, but he didn't allow it to show. In fact he sat down without invitation, slouched in the chair, assuming a don't-give-a-hell attitude.
    Leon regarded him critically but said nothing. They stared at each other, the old game that always had to be played. This time Leon looked away first. He pulled open the center drawer of the desk and withdrew a white envelope. His slender, dainty fingers took a sheet of folded paper out of the envelope. He unfolded the paper, shot a glance at Archie.
    "Do you know about this?"
    "About what?" Archie asked, alert.
    Leon handed the sheet of paper to Archie. Slowly Archie reached out and took it, the motion deliberate and unhurried. He stifled his curiosity, holding the paper in the palm of his hand for a moment. Then he read the words.
     
    Brother Leon:
    It is imperative to cancel the Bishop's forthcoming visit to Trinity. Bad things will happen if he comes. This is friendly advice, not a warning.
     
    The letters were printed in blue ballpoint ink. Awkward letters, slanting both left and right as if the writer of the note were drunk or didn't have full control of his hands. Or wanted to disguise his handwriting. As Archie's eyes took in the message, slowly reading again each word, another word leaped to the forefront of his mind.
    Traitor .
    For the first time in his years at Trinity, a traitor had appeared. Oh, there had been the expected enemies, the stubborn kids (like Renault), the animals (like Janza). The reluctant guys, the timid ones, the protestors. But never a whistle-blower, a turncoat, a traitor. Never someone tipping off the Headmaster. The ultimate act of betrayal. Because even the students who feared and hated the Vigils realized that the Vigils were on their side. The common enemy was Trinity itself, the faculty, the Headmaster, whether Brother Leon or anyone else. By their very natures the faculty and the student body were enemies. And one did not consort with the enemy. This was the worst thing that someone could do, the most despicable act of all. Thinking of all this and also: Who could it be? Not just anybody. Not just any student. Most students had been delighted by the prospect of a day off. Most students didn't care whether the Bishop or the school would be embarrassed. Most students probably wanted something to happen, to end this boring school term. So who?
    He looked up to see Leon glaring at him. More than a glare. A baleful look full of contempt.
    "This I cannot condone, Archie. Your foolish pranks here at school have been one thing, along with your stupid adolescent behavior. If your fellow students are ignorant enough to indulge you, fine. As long as it concerns only them and not me." Leaning forward, he snatched the letter from Archie's hand. "But involving the Bishop in one of your pranks . . ." He let his voice die, but the snap and crackle of his words