Free The H-Bomb and the Jesus Rock by John Manderino Page A

What can you do?”
    We stood there some more. I could hear the television, a news guy talking.
    “How ‘bout those Russians,” I said to her. “Buncha Communists. They don’t even believe in God, Mrs. Cavaletto. Did you know that? They don’t even believe in—”
    “Ralph?” she called out over her shoulder.
    I said to her, quiet, “I hope you don’t punish him too much for this. Or Lou,” I added. I felt like telling her how her sweet little daughter practically twisted off my tit—which was still hurting. “Lou was part of it too,” I said, “a big part, believe me. Anyway, be that as it—ah, here she is now.”
    She had the rock, holding it against her chest, and for some reason was wearing a lacy, wrinkled-up First Communion veil. Weird, those two, both of them. She wasn’t crying but she had tears down her face. And I have to admit, if she was bigger I might have been a tiny bit worried, the way she was looking at me.
    Her mom took the rock and didn’t even glance at it, just handed it over.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Cava—”
    She closed the door in my face.

Ralph
    Lou came running back and dove on the mattress, crying hard.
    That made me hate him, for making her cry like that. That made me want to kill him. But I remembered, the children of Fatima had bad people do things to them too, mostly the Communists. They even got put in jail. But they didn’t give up being good, know why? Because they knew the story wasn’t over yet.
    I sat on the mattress. “Lou,” I said, “listen.”
    “I hate him!”
    “I know. Me too. But listen...”
    Mom opened the door and stood there. “Well?” she said.
    “He was lying, Mom. We found it in the weeds.” I raised my hand. “Honest to God.”
    Lou started yelling into the pillow, calling Fatso names.
    “What’s she saying?”
    “She doesn’t like him.”
    “So what’s he want with a rock?”
    “Put it in a tent, charge people to look at it.”
    “At a rock.”
    “It’s Jesus!” Lou yelled.
    Mom looked at me.
    “It...kind of looks like Him.”
    “That’s what he was saying.”
    “He’s a liar!” Lou yelled.
    “Stop shouting,” Mom told her. “So it’s not really from his father?”
    “No, Ma,” I said. “We found it. Really.”
    “So what do you want with it?”
    “To save the world!” Lou yelled.
    Mom looked at me.
    I twirled my finger near my temple.
    Then she asked me, “What’s with the stocking cap? And her with the veil?”
    I shrugged. “Just...goofin’ around.”
    She gave a sigh and told us to go on outside or she’d give us some work to do, and left.
    “Lou, get up, let’s go,” I told her. “Come on. This is where they go after him.”
    She got up on her knees, her face all puffy and wet and red. “Do they beat him up?” she said, fixing her veil.
    “ No ,”I said. “Now listen.” I stood over her. “I told you, we have to be like the children of Fatima, okay? Or else we’re not gonna win. You know what they would do? They would pray for Fatso.”
    She shook her head. “Nuh-uh, Ralph.”
    “They would pray for his soul, for him to change.”
    “He won’t, though.”
    “That doesn’t matter. The point is, if they beat him up , then God says, ‘Well, they’re all bad, so let ‘em fight it out, what do I care?’”
    “But we would still win. He’s easy, Ralph. He’s just fat.”
    I shook my head. “You’re not getting it.”
    “No, I get it, I get it,” she said. “I have to be like...what’s her name again? The little girl?”
    “Jacinta. Say it.”
    “Jacinta.”
    “And I have to be like Francisco. Okay? That’s the story we’re in. Take it or leave it.”
    She got up. “What’s it called again?”
    “The Miracle of the Rock.”
    She said it slow. “The Miracle...of the Rock.”
    “Y’like that?”
    She nodded. She liked it.
    I told her how it came to me. “Right out of the blue. I wasn’t even trying to think of a title, y’know? Then all of a sudden, out of