It was a brisk October afternoon at Saint Ignatius Catholic Day School. In a brick wall corner of the schoolyard stood three older boys with their hands shoved down their slacks, braced against the cold. They talked quietly amongst themselves and watched the younger boys play.
Walker had assembled his friends for something gravely important, though he refused to tell them what until they were all together. Stephen and James stood beside him, waiting impatiently for Georgie to arrive. Walker had a propensity for leading the boys on sinful forays, and this was sure to be another. The problem, though, was that they were never caught. It was almost preferable to be dragged by your ear to the desk of some stern-faced nun than to steep unchaperoned in your sin. At least then the matter was no longer between you and the almighty God alone.
Last spring Walker had convinced them to sneak into the school’s church to steal wine from the tabernacle. It hasn’t been blessed yet, he told them, so God won’t mind. Crouched behind the altar, he poured wine from the crystal decanter into a plastic cup as he looked to the boys with a grave face and said, Christ bled for thee. They passed the cup between the four of them. It emptied slowly between objections, then was refilled hastily. Having drained the decanter, they placed it neatly back in the tabernacle and stumbled out down the central aisle. Every subsequent mass when the priest tipped the chalice into their mouths it burned down their throats and tumbled their stomachs. Christ bled for thee, he would say.
Georgie arrived in a huff with a handful of loose papers. “Bombed Latin,” he said, holding up a sheet doused in red ink. “Father Malloy wasn’t too happy.”
“Barba non facit philosophum, Georgie boy,” Stephen said, swiping at the whiskers atop his lip. Georgie swiped back and the two began to wrestle.
“Just get on with it, Walker,” James chided. “These brutes will be at it all day.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, and Georgie and Stephen disentangled from one another. “Gentlemen, I’ve gotten word of something we might like to ‘borrow’ from the janitor.”
“And what might that be?” Georgie asked.
“A stash of porno mags,” Walker answered. “Stacked damn near three feet tall. Matthew caught a glimpse of it the other day before the closet door closed.”
“Three feet?!” Stephen gasped. “My God, he must be beating that poor thing like it owes him money.”
“I’m out,” James said quietly.
“Oh, come on,” Walker said. “You haven’t heard the plan yet.”
“I don’t want any part of this,” said James. “If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It’s in the Bible, man.”
“Didn’t hear anything about the left,” Stephen laughed.
“You, my friend,” James said glaring towards Walker, “want accomplices in sin.” He looked towards Georgie and Stephen, “And you are all too willing. I’ll walk with Christ.” He left without turning back.
“You’re my hero, James, truly,” Walker called out. “Come find me when your balls drop!” He turned to the remaining boys, “Look at him and Jesus holding hands. What a Christlike young man.”
“So about the porno mags…” Stephen said.
Walker went on to tell them the plan. Stephen would spill a carton of chocolate milk in the cafeteria, summoning the janitor, while Georgie, waiting by his closet, would slip in unnoticed before the door closed. Walker, naturally, would keep watch in the hallway and run interference if necessary. Stephen was happy with his role and Georgie, despite assuming the most risk, was quite willingly tempted by Walker, for reasons that confounded the other boys.
They took their positions during lunch. Georgie looked sheepishly down the hallway towards Walker who gave him a thumbs up and flashed a grin. An announcement was made over the PA system for the janitor and he shot forth from his closet with a bucket and mop. Georgie stuck his foot in the door, looked quickly left and right, then slipped into the small room. As the door closed behind him, it fell completely dark and the lemony chemical scent stung his nose. He felt around for a lightswitch to no avail, his hands grasping a stack of magazines, one of which he rolled up and shoved into his slacks. Giving the small closet one last pass, he felt the pull cord of a fluorescent lightbulb grace his cheek. He gave it a tug and the room was illuminated. Sitting before him on a small stool was Jesus Christ himself, who said serenely, “I know your secret, my child.” Georgie fainted.
He awoke to Walker, Stephen, and James at his bedside and felt an icepack atop his forehead.
“He lives,” whispered Stephen coyly. “Thanks be to God.”
“How’s the head?” Walker asked.
“How’s my head?!” Georgie cried. “I saw Jesus fucking Christ in the janitor’s closet.”
“Hmph,” James chortled. “If only.”
“Yeah, about that,” Walker started. “We had a sit down with the sisters. Apparently the porno stash was a sham.”
“Then what is this?” Georgie asked, pulling the magazine out from his slacks. “Oh. An issue of Cleaning and Maintenance Monthly.” Stephen and James bursted out in laughter.
“You were supposed to have a chat with fake Jesus about the dangers of masturbation,” Walker said gently. “A sort of morality play.”
“They put Matthew up to it.” Stephen said. “He gave Walker the plan.”
“Should’ve known that little kiss ass would set us up,” Walker said. “But, on the bright side, you hit your head so hard that the sisters decided to call it even.”
“You’re a real team player, Georgie boy,” Stephen said. The bell rang loudly, causing Georgie to wince.
“That’s our cue,” Walker said.
“See ya Georgie,” James said.
“Feel better,” said Stephen. And the two left.
Walker took Georgie’s hand and said, “I’m sorry,” then let it fall. He moved quietly to the door and Stephen was left alone.
