John Fitzgerald GB 04 Great Bra (7 page)

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you honor somebody you don’t like? And that is the only real sin I can think of since my last confession.”

Father O’Malley’s voice became filled with stern authority. “Your confession has been blasphemous,” he said. “I realize your religious instruction has been wanting but that is no excuse for such conduct. I will now give you penance. In addition to your usual prayers you will say an Act of Faith, an Act of Hope, an Act of Love, the Hail Mary, the Apostles’ Creed, the Confiteor and an Act of Contrition on your knees in the chapel every day until your next confession. Go now, my son, and may God help you.”

Tom had got through his first day at the academy without getting any more demerits. But he sure made up for it by receiving more penance than he had received in a lifetime from Father Joe. And as he left the confessional he couldn’t help thinking how different these city priests were.

At the rate Tom was going he wouldn’t have time to get an education at the academy because he would be spending most of his time doing penance.

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I KNEW FROM READING Tom’s next letter that he was going from bad to worse at the academy. At the rate he was going we could expect him to be sent home any day.

Tom thought he was dreaming his first Sunday mom-ing when Father Rodriguez woke him up. It was still pitch dark in the dormitory.

“Get dressed quietly so you don’t wake up the other boys,” the superintendent said.

“But it is the middle of the night,” Tom protested.

“It is exactly four o’clock in the morning,” Father Rodriguez said.

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Tom couldn’t imagine where they were going at that hour as he followed the priest down the stairway. The superintendent had threatened to tame him. Maybe he was being taken down to be locked up in a dungeon. Instead he was taken to the kitchen. Father Rodriguez turned on the electric lights and showed Tom a drawer where paring knives were kept. Then he pointed at a sack of potatoes and a wooden tub half filled with water.

“Every night Father Petrie will set out the number of potatoes he wants peeled for the next day’s meals,” the superintendent said. “You will peel those potatoes and drop them into the tub of water. You will be doing this for five mornings so I suggest that you go to bed at night be-fore lights-out. Father Petrie will come into the kitchen at five o’clock to build up the fire in the range and start preparing breakfast. It usually takes a boy about two hours to peel the potatoes needed each day. You should be finished when the six o’clock bell rings.”

If there was one thing Tom hated to do it was to peel spuds. Whenever Mamma or Aunt Bertha was sick one of us boys had to peel potatoes. When it was Tom’s turn he always paid me to do it for him. So I can imagine how he felt as he stared at all those spuds.

“You are making me break the third commandment, which forbids all unnecessary servile work oh Sundays,” he said seriously.

But Father Rodriguez wasn’t worrying about breaking a commandment. “The good Lord knows that people must eat on the sabbath,” he said. “I shall return at six o’clock.”

Tom stood staring at the sack of potatoes after the priest had left. He asked himself why a fellow with a great

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brain should have to peel all those spuds. So instead of starting to work he sat down and put his great brain to work. In less than a minute he had the answer to his problem. If it took one boy two hours to peel all those potatoes four boys could do it in half an hour.

He had noticed coming downstairs that the stairs squeaked. He sneaked back up to the dormitory, walking close to the banister so there weren’t any squeaks. He woke up Jerry, Phil, and Tony and held a whispered conversa-tion with them on his bunk.

“You fellows know that sooner or later you’ll get caught doing something and have to peel spuds,” he said. “You help me and I’ll help you when the time comes.”

Jerry nodded his head. “I’ll help,” he said.

Tom was right about Jerry. The red-headed kid was game for anything. But Phil wasn’t.

“Not me,” Phil said. “If we get caught we’ll all end up with demerits.”

“Me neither,” Tony said. “Go peel your own spuds.”

“Come on, Tom,” Jerry said. “I’ll help you. Let these two ‘fraidy cats go back to bed.”

That made Phil angry. “I’m no ‘fraidy cat,” he said.

“Then prove it,” Jerry said.

“All right, I’ll help.” Phil said.

The three of them looked at Tony.

“Haw,” Tonysaid—

They all stared at Tony for a moment. Finally Tom spoke.

“What do you mean by ‘haw’?” he asked. “Do you mean ha like in
ha, ha,’ or haw like telling a horse to turn left, or what?”

“I don’t know.” Tony said.

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“What do you mean you don’t know?” Tom asked. “You just said it.”

“When my father has an argument with my mother or my uncle,” Tony said, “and he doesn’t know what to say he always says ‘haw.’ “

“In other words, you don’t know what to say,” Tom said. “Well, all you’ve got to say is I am not a ‘fraidy cat’ or ‘I am a ‘fraidy cat.’ “

“I’ll help,” Tony said.

They all slid down the banister to the ground floor and then tiptoed into the kitchen. Tom showed them where the paring knives were kept. Thirty minutes later all the potatoes were peeled and Jerry, Phil, and Tony were upstairs in the dormitory. Tom was sitting there doing nothing when Father Petrie entered the kitchen at five o’clock.

The priest was a short, very fat man with big jowls. He placed the palms of his hands on his fat belly and looked at Tom with twinkling eyes.

“Bless my soul,” he said, his jowls wobbling as he spoke. “You must be Thomas Fitzgerald.”

“Yes, Father,” Tom said.

The priest walked over and looked at the tub containing all the peeled potatoes. “Bless my soul, Thomas,” he said, “you couldn’t possibly have peeled all those potatoes in an hour.” •-

Father Petrie left the kitchen shaking his head. He returned in a few minutes with Father Rodriguez.

“You must have awakened the boy before tour o’clock,” Father Petrie said.

The superintendent stared at the tub of peeled potatoes. “There is no other logical explanation,” he said.

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Then he looked at Tom- “You are excused for now, Thomas.”

Tom went up to the dormitory where Jerry, Phil, and Tony were waiting on Jerry’s bunk. He told them what had happened. They all laughed so much they had to hold their hands over their mouths.

“We’ve got Father Rodriguez and Father Petrie plumb mystified,” Tom said before they all went to bed.

The six o’clock bell woke them up. All the boys washed up and changed into their Sunday clothes. Then two eighth graders left to serve as attar boys. At six thirty another bell rang and Tom went with the others down to the chapel for mass. Then they went to the dining room for breakfast before going back to the dormitory.

“My folks are coming to see me today,” Phil said.

Jerry shook his head. “I wish my folks lived in Salt Lake City so they could visit me,” he said.

“That reminds me,” Tom said. “I’ve still got eight bars of candy.” Then he stood up. “You fellows who are having visitors today, don’t forget to ask (or money if you want any candy.”

All the kids had ignored Willie Connors and I guess the silent treatment was hurting him. He came over to Tom’s bunk.

“I said I was sorry,” he said, “And I promise not to snitch anymore.”

Tom and the other fellows pretended not to hear. Willie went back to his bunk and began to cry.

Tom was sitting on a bench with Jerry and Tony in the yard that afternoon when Sweyn came over to them.

“Father Rodriguez just sent for me,” he said. “He asked me where you had learned how to peel potatoes so

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fast. I told him you had never peeled a potato before in your life. You always hired J.D. to do it when Mom or Aunt Bertha was sick.”

“Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?” Tom said, plenty angry. “You signed a statement not to interfere. Now you are going to have to help me because I’ll need a lookout.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Sweyn said, “but whatever it is the answer is no.”

Tom shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Then I guess I’ll have to tell all the kids you refused to help your own brother,” he said. “And I’ll also tell them you can’t be trusted because you broke your signed statement.”

Poor Sweyn knew he was trapped. By the time Tom got through telling it the kids would have more respect for Willie Connors than for him.

“All right, you little blackmailer,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll tell you after supper tonight,” Tom said. “My great brain has to work on it a little longer.”

After visiting hours were over Tom sold six bars of candy. And because he didn’t want the other two bars to go stale he divided them up with his three friends.

Father Rodriguez woke up Tom at four o’clock again the next morning, Tom waited until the priest had left the kitchen and then sneaked up to the dormitory. He woke up his three friends and Sweyn. They all slid down the banister to the ground Hoor.

“Father Rodriguez has to come through the dining room to get to the kitchen,” Tom whispered. “S.D., you station yourself just inside the entrance to the dining room where you can see the door of his bedroom. I have a

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hunch Father Rodriguez will be checking on me this morning. If you see him open his bedroom door you run into the kitchen and tell us. Then the four of you hide in the pantry until he is gone.”

Tom’s hunch was right. He and his three friends had only been peeling potatoes for fifteen minutes when Sweyn came running into the kitchen.

“He’s coming,” Sweyn whispered.

Tom was sitting all alone in the kitchen with a potato in one hand and a paring knife in the other when the superintendent entered the kitchen.

“Did you want something, Father?” Tom asked as innocent as could be.

The superintendent looked at the peeled potatoes in the wooden tub. He didn’t say a word but walked out of the kitchen shaking his head. He paid another visit to the kitchen fifteen minutes later. Again the four boys hid in the pantry and Tom greeted the superintendent with a big innocent smile.

Father Rodriguez didn’t return to the kitchen until five o’clock. Father Petrie was with him. By that time all the spuds were peeled and Jerry, Phil, Tony, and Sweyn were back in the dormitory.

“I know for a fact,” the superintendent said to Father Petrie, “that I didn’t make a mistake about the time this morning. I checked my alarm clock with my watch and also with the clock in the library. And I checked on Thomas twice.”

“Bless my soul,” Father Petrie said, placing the palms of his hands on his belly. “There is only one logical conclusion. Thomas is without a doubt the fastest potato peeler in the world.”

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The superintendent just shook his head. “You are excused, Thomas,” he said.

Tom was chuckling all the way back to the dormitory. His three friends were waiting on Jerry’s bunk.

“Father Rodriguez will rue the day he sentenced me to peeling spuds for just riding on a locomotive,” Tom said. “And he’ll be sorry he ever tangled with my great brain.”

Jerry shook his head. “Wish we could tell all the kids about the good joke we played on him,” he said. “None of the kids like him except maybe Willie Connors.”

“We can’t tell anybody,” Tom said, “or the next kid sentenced to peeling spuds will do the same thing.”

Tom began his first day of school that Monday morning. His life was controlled by the big bell on the ground floor. The six o’clock bell was the signal for all the boys to get washed up and dressed. Then the four kids assigned to the dining room and kitchen left. The six-thirty bell called the boys to chapel for morning prayer. Another bell sent them from the chapel to the dining room. From the din-ing room they went back to the dormitory. At eight o’clock the sound of another bell sent them to the classrooms on the second floor.

Father Rodriguez was standing in front of the blackboard in the seventh-grade classroom. He assigned each seventh grader to a desk.

“You will find textbooks for the courses Father O’Malley will teach you on your desks,” he said. “You will be studying beginner’s Latin, geography, American history, advanced arithmetic, English grammar, general science, and beginner’s civics. You will also find a book entitled Key of Heaven, which is a manual of prayers and

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instruction for Catholics. I will teach this course, which embraces the catechism, epistles and gospels, and Christian doctrine. It will be your first course each day.”

Tom discovered that there was no such thing as recess at the academy. Students remained in the classrooms from eight o’clock to twelve noon. They had forty-five minutes for lunch and then went back to the classrooms until three o’clock. Father O’Malley told the seventh graders they could do their homework between the time school let out and suppertime and between seven and nine o’clock in the evenings. And he gave them homework to do for every course.

But there sure as heck wasn’t any homework done that afternoon. It was initiation day for the seventh graders. Rory Flynn addressed them as soon as they arrived in the dormitory.

“You little seventh graders have been found guilty of wanting to go to school at the academy,” he said. “The punishment is a trip through the torture tunnel.”

Then the eighth graders each got a textbook and stood with their legs apart in the aisle.. Willie Connors got in line with them but he wasn’t there for long. Rory grabbed the tattletale and without a word marched him back to his bunk. Then he got back in line.

“The torture tunnel is ready,” he said. “All you little seventh graders get down on your hands and knees and crawl through one at a time.”

Tom didn’t like having Rory giving him orders. “What if we refuse?” he asked.