Date: Thu, 17 Feb 2005 10:37:39 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 6

THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 6

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which
are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 6

(Revisiting Chapter 5)

As the dance music resumed, Dave came over to the Gang's table where the
boys huddled dejectedly.  Looking at the "456" ticket, he murmured
consolingly, "Wow...how close can you come?"  Shane introduced the handsome
collegian to his friends who greeted him warmly.  "Shane," he exclaimed,
"if you would really like to work on that project with my friends and me at
the University, I REALLY hope that you will look me up."  Before departing,
ostensibly because there were several "hot women" waiting to dance with
him, he grinned at the redhead and said, "Here are my dorm and home phone
numbers." Pressing a slip of paper into Shane's hand, he reiterated, "Hope
to hear from you!"  The boys all looked at Shane with even greater respect
as the sharply dressed college man returned to his table, extended his hand
to the beautiful Colleen, and led her out onto the dance floor.  Wow...some
guys have all the luck!

(Continuing Our Story - USC 13, Holy Cross 14!)

Well into the afternoon on New Year's Day, Shane finally got up the courage
to walk over to the rectory.  Peering in the sitting room window, he could
see a highly excited Father Tom watching football.  When he knocked, the
young priest quickly came quickly to the door and almost pulled the redhead
into the entry hall.  "You won't believe what's happening!" he babbled.
"You won't believe what's happening!  The ROSE BOWL - our very first bowl
game ever!  It's the fourth quarter!  Southern Cal. is leading by 13-7, but
Holy Cross is driving!  For Heaven's sake, Shane, come into the sitting
room!"  (AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm in the wrong category, but will my
readers forgive a little "fantasy"? <grin>) Father dragged the confused boy
down onto the sofa and thrust a bowl of popcorn under his nose.  "Eat!"
(Shane needed no second invitation!)  With time running out, the Crusaders
drove closer and closer to the goal line.  With one second showing on the
clock they scored!  13-13...  As over 100,000 fanatics in the giant stadium
went berserk, the Purple and Gold lined up for the conversion.  The ball
sailed right between the uprights - and Holy Cross had defeated the USC
Trojans by a score of 14-13!  Fr.  Tom leapt to his feet and danced a
THOROUGHLY confused redhead all around the room.

"You didn't come over here to watch football," an exuberant young priest
declared as he sprawled back on the sofa, his heart rate dropping into the
'safe' range.  "What's up, Big Red?"  "Well...," the boy mumbled, munching
on another handful of popcorn, "I promised that I'd talk with you.  No,
that's not right, Father.  I NEED to talk with you.  But the football?"
"Nothing to worry about, Shane.  I ration myself on New Years Day - and
that, unfortunately, was my last game!" Fr. Tom replied.  "What's up?  Need
to talk with a friend?"

"Yeah, that's it," a far more relaxed boy than the one who had come to the
door said.  "I want to go to Confession, Father, but first I need to talk
with a friend - and you're the best friend I have in the world!  One thing:
Could our talk be as private...ah...confidential?"  The young priest's
reply was direct: "First, Shane, I'm honored to be your 'best friend.'
You're right at the top of my list, too - and (he emphasized) you always
will be.  Secondly, yes, our talk will be completely confidential, but
remember that goes both ways.  What I say is as private as what you say,
ok?"  "Yeah," Shane answered.  When you ready to go to Confession, God will
be there with the same forgiveness and strength to do better that he gives
me.  So shoot."

"Forgiveness and strength...yeah...that's what I need, Fr. Tom.  I looked
at myself in the mirror a few days ago - you remember...the day I took off
- and I'm absolutely disgusted and scared out of my mind.  I think it might
have been better if I'd never been born!"  "Tell me about it, friend," the
priest murmured.

Shane went on to tell the priest every detail laid out in the previous
chapter of this story - the fact that he DID blame himself for not saving
his family from a fiery death, the introduction to sex he received at the
hands of Cousin Pete and his buddies in Quinassett, the sexual experiences
he had on the road in southern New England during his late 12th and early
13th years, and the taste for "rough" sex that he had developed and sought
out on occasion since.  He was particularly detailed about what had
happened with Lee just days before.  The young lad, his brow furrowed in
determination, also mentioned that he had really WANTED Dave to bring him
off last night (and was frustrated as all hell when the fanfare had
interrupted him!), and that he WANTED to accept his invitation to go to
Storrs.  Finally, choking back sheer terror mixed with embarrassment,
unable to raise his gaze from the carpet, he admitted that he loved Fr. Tom
and dreamt almost every night - and constantly during the day - about
having sex with him.

Father let the boy talk.  Frankly, he had never seen anything to equal
Shane's courage.  When the torrent of fear, pain, lust, and self-loathing
began to slow - when the lad finally lapsed into silence, his face
absolutely crimson, his sweat mixing freely with his tears - he interjected
a comment.

"We must talk about you and me, and homosexuality, Shane - and we
shall...soon.  First, however, I would like you to do a little job for me
and return to speak with me tomorrow.  Is that ok?"  "Sure, Father, what do
you want?" the boy asked, happy to on something that he thought would be
just a little less emotional.  "I want you to: 1) give me a diagram of the
house where your parents and sister died, 2) indicate where you were when
you discovered the fire, 3) indicate where your parents and sister were, 4)
give me SOME idea of their weight and size, as well as yours at age 10, and
5) add anything else about the fire that you can remember.  Ok, Big Red?"
"Can do, Father," Shane said briskly, though not as relieved as he had been
a moment before.

"Now, we have a problem," Fr. Tom exclaimed.  "I generally refuse to make
anyone work on a holiday like today.  Therefore, I am without a cook - and
I just don't feel like leftovers from the Party!  Someone told me earlier
today that Tony's Pizza Parlor downtown is open.  Do you like pizza?"  "Oh,
yeah, Father!" the redhead almost shouted.  (He did not add that his
experience with pizza was limited to forays into Tony's dumpster during his
early days in Sherburne.)  "Ok, then," Father retorted, "let's go get
some!"

Shane was in seventh heaven, for he LOVED pizza.  Unfortunately, like so
many Irishwomen of her generation, Mrs. Murphy thought it was foreign
garbage and refused to include it on the boys' menu!  Hence, the smells
alone in the pizza parlor just about drove him crazy.  One difficult moment
did occur during dinner.  As he absentmindedly pushed an anchovy off his
pizza onto the plate beneath, Shane paused, looked at Fr. Tom and asked,
"Do you remember Thanksgiving, Father?"  Lifting the free anchovy from
Shane's plate, Fr. Tom answered, "Yeah.  What about it?"  "Do you hate me
for what I did to you that night - the night I took off for Quinassett?"
the redhead asked, his face pale, his voice low and trembling.  After a
brief pause, Father Tom responded in a matter-of-face voice, "The short
answer, Shane, is 'No, I do not hate you.  In fact, though there are some
limitations on how I can show it, I love you.  Furthermore, it's not a
question of what you did to me, but what we did together!'  Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it, Father," the boy replied as he averted his face to hide
the tears of relief that filled his reddened eyes.  "There's more to talk
about on this topic, you crazy redhead, but let's take it one step at a
time," the young priest added.

Promptly at 3:30 the next afternoon, Shane showed up at Fr. Tom's office
off the Mary Chapel with the diagram of his former home and the other
requested information.  "Ok, Shane," Fr.  Tom began after studying the
data. "It's really late at night, you are very sleepy, and you had just
left the outhouse some distance beyond the house.  The fire, feeding on
some really old wood, was just engulfing the entire house.  Spreading like
wildfire in a stiff breeze...  You are ten years old and weigh, maybe, 70
lbs.  (That's not a really big kid, right?)" Shane agreed.  "Your parents,
who had been drinking, are probably fast asleep in their bedroom on the
side of the house, not far from a rear door that was held shut with planks
because the frame was rotted.  Your father weighs maybe 170 lbs; your
mother, 125 lbs.  Your little sister (six years old and, maybe, 45 lbs.)
sleeps upstairs in a loft, while you (ten years old and, maybe, 70 lbs.)
sleep in the living room on the couch.  Do I have most of it right?"  "Yes,
Father."

"So...  Remember, boyo, that you are now 14, going on 15, and SMART.
You've proved that in the last few years by surviving and becoming a
respected leader.  (Shane grinned as he basked in the praise of the human
being whose opinion he valued above all others.)  Pretend that you are
another person looking at these data.  Will you please give me a fair
estimate of the chance the ten year-old has of getting his family out of
the burning house?"  Shane takes several tries at coming up with the
estimate, each time faltering, and seeming to begin again.  He is clearly
becoming agitated, and his eyes are beginning to redden.  Fr. Tom rises
from his desk chair, comes over to where Shane was sitting, and kneels
beside the lad.  Suddenly, Shane swivels his body and throws his arms
around the priest, sobbing.  "That's ok, my boy, we don't have to answer
that question today," Fr. Tom whispers as he rubs the boy's back.  "Take
those papers home with you tonight, and we'll try again tomorrow."  "But I
tried, Father!" the tearful redhead persisted.  "I tried so FUCKIN' hard!
It's just that when I got around to the front of the house, the flames were
SHOOTING out of the door.  I think it was open.  I couldn't even get
close."  "So...  Since you tried, as hard as you could...with love, you
OUGHT to have been able to save them?"  The boy was silent.  "That's ok,
Shane, we'll work on this again tomorrow."

"Listen, boyo," the young priest continued, "I know that you are tired.  I
have a second question, but if you want, I can hold it until tomorrow."
With a look of utter determination on his face, his fingers clamped tightly
onto the chair's arms, the redhead answered, "No, Fr. Tom!  Let's have the
question."  Keeping his arm locked around the youngster's shoulders, the
priest went further.  "On several occasions yesterday, Shane, you said that
the terrible pain you have experienced - in Quinassett as a child and a few
weeks ago, on the road as a 12 and 13 year old, here in Sherburne when you
were on the streets and at Lee's hands a few days ago - was "deserved."
You DESERVED that treatment from Cousin Pete's buddies; a young teen
DESERVED to wander three states, hungry...exhausted...having to sell his
body; you DESERVED to live in abandoned factories, cold...hungry...with no
adults to love and support you; you DESERVED what Lee provided,
corn-holing...a mammoth piece of wood up your ass...  being strung up like
a side of beef...being pissed on...and being terrorized by giant rats?  My
second question, Shane, is WHY?  Why did you "deserve" it?

The poisoned words and thoughts that an immature mind had assembled to
provide some explanation for his plight flooded from his mouth.  "That's
easy, Father!  Any guy who kills his family deserves ANYTHING he gets!  He
has to PAY!"  "You killed them?" Fr. Tom inquired quietly.  "Well, I let
them die!  What's the dif?" came the quick, almost automatic response.
Suddenly, there was complete silence - unless, that is, you count the
nearly audible clicks of several pieces of a four year old puzzle beginning
to fall into place.  An utterly shell shocked young man looked in wide-eyed
confusion at his priest, his friend, his hero.  Helping Shane to his feet
and holding him close for a moment, Fr. Tom said, "Let's go into the Mary
Chapel for a few minutes, Shane, and pray...together."

Several days later, the redhead showed up for his appointment. His steps
seemed lighter; his shoulders didn't seem to be bearing quite as much
weight; he even grinned like the Shane whom the young priest knew...and
loved.  "Father, I have a couple of answers for you.  I don't think there's
any way that I could have saved my parents and sister - and if I didn't
kill them, I sure as hell don't deserve all the crap that has been going
down in my life.  Trouble is, there's something in me that keeps telling me
that I DID kill them...and that I DO deserve punishment."  "Keep giving
yourself the RIGHT answers, Big Guy, and asking for God's help.
Eventually, your mind will get the message!" Fr. Tom growled in a
determined voice.  "When your mind gives you a really bad time, come in
here and talk and pray with me...anytime, day or night!"  Shane grinned and
said, "You can depend on it. Father - and thanks!"

"There's something else, Father," Shane mumbled, once again ill at ease.
"Yeah?" Fr. Tom answered, raising his eyebrows.  "Spill it."  "Well,
Father," Shane continued with some reluctance,
"Well...uh...I'm...homosexual - and it seems to me that's something kinda
different from what we've been talking about."  Fr. Tom breathed a sigh of
relief.  At least, HE hadn't had to bring up the subject!  "Well, I am,
too, Shane - so maybe we can compare notes.  I'm also a priest, so maybe I
can help there as well."

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following discussion is heavily indebted to Nick
Turner's "Dancing to the Music of Their Hearts" (Nifty/Adult Friends),
especially Chapters 4 and 10.  Turner's enlightened and beautifully written
story is a provocative model for all of us who would attempt to deal -
however inadequately - with these and similar topics.)

"Do you think the fact that you're queer is something else for which you
are responsible - and makes you deserving of the treatment you have
received?" Fr. Tom continued harshly.  "Well, isn't it," the boy replied,
his lips trembling.  (Pause.)  "Let me ask you a question," the young
priest suddenly said, gentleness creeping back into his voice.  "If you
could choose to be homosexual, would you?"  "Hell no, Father Tom!" the
redhead exploded.  "Why would I want to do something that would bring me so
much grief?  Father!  Other than on Thanksgiving night, I've never HAD sex
other than to get my rocks off or to make sure I had a place to sleep and a
little food to eat!"  "Haven't you also allowed your body to be used
cruelly to punish yourself...for killing your family...or, maybe, for being
homosexual?" Fr. Tom asked quietly.  (Pause.)  Not quite willing (or,
perhaps, ready) to deal with the implications of the priest's question,
Shane again burst out, "How in hell, Fr. Tom, can I ever serve at the altar
given the things I've done?"

"Whoa, Big Red!  One question at a time!" the priest murmured.  "If you did
not, and would not, CHOOSE to be homosexual, how could you possibly be
RESPONSIBLE for it - and, as I suggested a little while ago, if you're not
responsible, why do you deserve punishment?"

"I hear you, Father," Shane responded, "but doesn't the CHURCH teach that
homosexuality is sinful?"  Fr Tom pursed his lips thoughtfully and sat back
in his chair.  "Well, lad, it DOES teach that it's 'unnatural.'  Sex occurs
naturally between a married couple - a man and a woman - for the purpose of
procreation."  Grinning at the perplexed look on the redhead's face, he
added, "For making babies...for continuing the species."  "Oh," the
youngster grunted, shifting uneasily in his chair.  "But it's the
homosexual ACT that's sinful, not homosexuality.  I have to be honest with
you, Shane.  In the long list of things that are 'sinful,' I don't really
believe that sex between two men who deeply love each other and try their
damnedest to live an honorable life ranks all that high on the list.  Don't
try to put it in the same class as turning one's buddies loose on a
helpless ten year old, or leaving one's own flesh and blood to die naked in
freezing weather, or brutalizing a young teen who turns to him for that
which he mistakenly sees as 'help'."

"Look at it this way," Fr. Tom continued.  "If you want to be perfect,
attempting celibacy is probably the best way to go.  But the Church knows
that no human being is perfect and, thus, it only holds out perfection as
the ideal...the goal for which we should strive.  It's a lifelong journey,
Shane, wherein Holy Mother Church proclaims the ideals presented by God,
inspires us, and forgives us when we stumble, are truly sorry, and vow to
use the Savior's strength to do just a little bit better the next time
around."

The young lad sat upright in his chair, his bright green eyes fixed on his
beloved mentor.  "Let's see if I've got it right, Fr. Tom.  I'm NOT a piece
of homosexual shit 'cause I didn't choose it and I'm not responsible for
it.  I AM responsible for my sexual actions, and the game is to try to
become the best person I can be - even though I'm homosexual," he muttered.
"And if...when...  I screw up, the Church will forgive me as long as I am
really sorry and promise to use the strength God gives me to do better?"
"Well," Father responded, "there may be a few gaps in your account, but
you're on the right track.  We'll talk further.  Shane, I want you to come
into the Chapel and pray with me for a bit.  Then, I want you to see me
tomorrow afternoon and share your thoughts on all the heavy stuff that I've
been laying on you.  Ok?"  As Fr. Tom came from in back of his desk, the
redhead rose, threw his arms around him, buried his head in his chest, and
hugged him as hard as his young muscled arms could hug.  Arms around each
other's shoulders, they walked into the Mary Chapel and knelt before the
altar.

Young Shane couldn't wait.  After fidgeting all through supper, turning
down an exercise session with thanks, and lying restless on his bed in
thought for the better part of three hours, he got up and raced over to the
rectory.  It must have been a little after 8:00 in the evening.  Fr.  Tom
came down from upstairs and, when he saw who it was, unlocked the door and
let him in.  "Shane, what's up?"  "Father, I'm SO sorry.  I know you have a
life, but I feel that mine has begun all over again!  PLEASE...PLEASE...can
we talk?"  With a weary smile, Fr. Tom offered him a Coke, and led him into
the sitting room.  "Father, I can't believe it!  I KNOW that I didn't kill
my family - and I KNOW that I'm not a worthless piece of shit just because
I'm homosexual.  And I AM sorry for so many sins that I HAVE committed," he
continued breathlessly.  I'm even sorry that I've hated myself so much that
I've torn myself apart.  And, Father, I don't want to go back to Lee - or
anyone like him - though THAT is going to take a LOT of help," he muttered
darkly.  "Relax," you crazy redhead, God has promised that your sins can be
forgiven and He's promised that He'll be with you when you next feel the
'itch'."  "You know?" Shane asked unbelievingly.  "No, but I know myself
well enough that I guessed," Fr. Tom responded.  The two young men looked
at each other radiantly with love and understanding.  "PLEASE, Father, come
next door with me," Shane whispered.  Fr. Tom looked into the beseeching
eyes of the young lad, thought for just a moment that it might have been
better for him to think and pray for a while longer, but finally shook his
head, realizing that 'he didn't really control such things'."  He took the
boy's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be nearly pulled next door
to the church.

After they had prayed, the priest and the pauper took themselves into the
Confessional.  In a firm young voice, the boy entered into one of the great
Sacraments of the Faith.  "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Ghost.  Amen.  Bless me Father, for I have sinned."  Fr. Tom
blessed the lad, listened patiently to his confession, and even asked a few
questions.  When satisfied that he was sorry and determined to cooperate
with God's grace, he pronounced absolution and imposed a penance.  Outside
the Confessional, they embraced and Fr. Tom traced the sign of the Cross on
his forehead.  "Are you ready to serve at Mass on Sunday with Keanu and
Andy McManus?" he asked lightly.  The redhead's shout of "Y-E-A-H!"
reverberated back and forth between the stone walls of the great old
church.  Grinning as he followed the echoes with his head, the youngster
burbled, "Father, I've been ready since you caught me at Mrs. Murphy's
store!"  Leaving Shane to begin his penance, the young priest walked back
towards the rectory, his head bowed in prayer.

(Sunday Morning, 7 A.M.)

His stomach growling with hunger, his fingernails scrubbed until his
fingers were almost raw, his dark red hair repeatedly shampooed until it
shone softly in the light, Shane arrived breathlessly at the Church a good
twenty minutes before he had to.  Actually, Keanu and young Andy McManus
joined him before Fr. Tom arrived.  Following brief prayers, they assisted
each other in donning their Eucharistic robes.  After Keanu had rung a bell
at the back of the church and the organist had called upon the congregation
to "Please rise for the celebration of the Mass," Andy, as Crucifer, held
his crucifix-surmounted staff high as he led the small procession down the
center aisle.  He was followed by Keanu and Shane who bore lighted candles
and, finally, by Father Tom.  As the organ poured forth a mighty hymn, the
procession progressed smoothly into the sanctuary where Keanu and Shane
placed the candles upon the altar and Andy locked the staff into its wall
holder.  The boys had been trained well.  At the steps of the altar, Keanu
and Shane moved a little to the right, turned inwards, and bowed to
Fr. Tom.  Keanu received his Biretta, kissed it, and with Shane and the
priest turned towards the altar and genuflected. As Shane continued
silently mumbling instructions to himself, the service proceeded flawlessly
through the opening prayers and responses, the reading of the Epistle and
the Gospel, and the reception of the people's alms.

Feeling as if he had received a special honor on the occasion of his first
service, Shane approached the priest with a small cruet of water, in one
hand, a small bowl in the other, and a small towel over the arm that
carried the bowl.  Fr. Tom ceremonially washed his hands as Shane poured
water over his hands into the bowl.  Father then dried his hands on the
towel, folded and replaced it on the redhead's arm, who then withdrew.  As
the priest consecrated and raised in turn the Eucharist and the wine, Keanu
and Shane rang special bells as Father Tom lifted them for the congregation
to venerate.  After the priest had received communion, he administered the
Eucharist to Andy, Keanu, and Shane and, then, to the congregation.
Kneeling through the remainder of the communion service, the boys rose at
the end of the Mass, waited until the organist began the final hymn,
whereupon they proudly carried the crucifix and the candles down the main
aisle followed by Fr. Tom.  At the rear of the old church, obviously
delighted with the work of his new "team," he insisted that they stand with
him as the congregation (impressive for a seven o'clock Mass)
emerged. Shane was happy to meet Andy's father and to receive countless
congratulations on his first service, especially from the nuns.
Nevertheless, he did have SERIOUS reservations about several old women who
pinched his cheeks and exclaimed to Father how handsome his new altar boy
was!  No matter how proudly Fr. Tom beamed at him, his 14 year-old
composure shriveled under the onslaught.  Besides, Keanu and Andy were
snickering their fool heads off!

(Of Bullies and Cops)

Later that week, their lessons and chores completed, Shane and, indeed,
most of the Gang were on their way over to the parochial school where a
hoop had been installed on one wall of the building.  (As long as the
grammar school kids weren't shut out, the Sisters had no objection to their
joining those who remained after the close of school.  The fact, of course,
was that the younger boys gloried in their attention and often "stuck
around" just to see them.)  Greeting Keanu and several of his fellow eighth
graders - and even a few of the "early developers" among the seventh
graders - Shane soon had a good game going.  Younger boys were substituted
right and left until just about everyone who desired to play had a chance.
As Keanu and Shane took a breather, Keanu asked Shane if he had heard about
the new Brother who, rumor had it, had just been hired to join the staff.
"What do they say about him?" Shane asked his buddy.  "Well, I didn't see
him," Keanu responded, "but Pete did and he said that he looked like a
guard who played for the New York Giants!  A real bruiser..."  "Wow!" Shane
exclaimed.

The boys' conversation was interrupted by a sudden disturbance over to the
side of the complex where thick bushes separated the School from the
street.  "What's going on?" Shane asked.  "Oh, shit!" Keanu snarled, "It's
those damned bullies from Sherburne High again. Those bastards are
big...and they're getting really vicious!"  Shane leapt to his feet, yelled
for the Gang to gather 'round, and took off towards the commotion.  As they
approached, Shane saw that four or five hulks had a slight, brown-haired
youngster on the ground and were kicking at him with their heavy boots.  It
was Andy McManus!  He was already bleeding heavily from the nose, his
glasses were broken, and his things were scattered around on the ground,
some of them trampled into the mud.  "Andy's one of ours," Shane screamed.
Get the bastards!"  To make a long - and very bloody - story just a bit
shorter, the Gang lit into the bullies and literally wiped the ground up
with them.  When they finally escaped - which WASN'T easy - their eyes gave
promise of some glorious shiners, lips and noses dripped blood, their
clothing was torn and muddy, and they were bawling like first graders!  The
boots had been torn off two of them!  Helped to his feet, Andy clung
trembling to Shane who felt a surge of compassion...and a little more.
Slowly, the Gang half-carried the youngster back towards the school where
nuns seemed to be watching from every window!  Passing through a crowd of
cheering parochial school kids, they were met at the School door by Sister
Superior.  Silence immediately descended on the assemblage!  Motioning for
the Gang to enter, she turned Andy over to a hulking figure in a brown robe
and led the Gang into the school's lunchroom.  There, on a large table,
they found steaming cups of hot chocolate, several bags of chips and - oh
boy!  - a PILE of candy bars (no doubt confiscated from her students who
were forbidden to bring them to school!).  "I thought you might be cold and
hungry after your basketball," Sister Paul exclaimed...with all of the
innocence of a seven-foot King Cobra!

After supper that night - a meal that Mrs. Murphy observed with alarm was
the very first that hadn't been rapaciously inhaled - Shane and Keanu asked
to speak with Fr. Tom.  Although he had already heard from Sister Superior,
he listened to the boys patiently, especially to their concern about "wars"
breaking out with the high school kids.  "Better things to do..." Keanu
mumbled.  On the very next morning, Fr. Tom got an appointment with Duff
McManus, a parishioner and the local Chief of Police.  At the police
station, a building about as old as St.  Pat's, Fr. Tom barely got a word
in before Captain McManus laid a real tale of woe on him about
deteriorating youth conditions in Sherburne.  "It's not just the homeless
kids any more," the Captain complained.  "I've got adolescents in here
every day from nearly every school in the District who are accused of
vandalism, theft, assault, and even worse.  It's an explosion - and, if we
don't do something about it pretty soon, we're going to be dealing with a
murder!  Hell!" he added, "my own kid got assaulted at the parochial school
the other day!  If it hadn't been for..."  McManus suddenly halted as
pieces of the story fell together in his mind.  "Those were YOUR kids who
saved him, weren't they, Father?  And Shane...the redhead who my kid can't
stop talking about...he was one of the altar boys who served with Andy last
Sunday...you know...the one the old biddies couldn't leave alone?"  "Yep,"
Father responded proudly, "They're mine - and Shane's the one.  How's your
boy?"  "Oh, he'll live," the Chief grumbled, "but how many won't if we
don't put a lid on this?"

Chief McManus went on to say that a colleague down in Bridgeport had
suggested that he consider establishing a Chapter of "PAL" (the Police
Athletic League) here in Sherburne.  "Many of the larger towns in
Connecticut have them, but we never have," he added.  "I've heard of PAL,"
Fr. Tom volunteered.  "Wasn't it founded by an old Mick down in New York
City years ago?"  "Yeah," McManus answered, "Captain John Sweeney was one
of the NYPD's finest - and he really made a difference back in 1910.
Trouble is, you have to have a high degree of community involvement to make
it work, and this town is pretty down in the dumps.  The police have to
sponsor it and provide some volunteers, but without a lot of volunteers, it
just doesn't work.  The schools have to get into it, too, because you need
ball fields, classrooms, and playgrounds; the churches have to get into it,
because they have meeting places and volunteers; business has to get into
it because you need money!

"Well, Captain, you know we don't have a lot of spare money at St. Pat's -
unless you've found a way to squeeze money out of stone walls - but I will
make a few suggestions.  The Bishop has just allowed us to hire a Brother
to work at the School and with my older boys.  He did a lot of youth work
down in Bridgeport - and that's getting to be a pretty rough town.  He
stepped on some toes, but I think he's great for Sherburne.  If you need a
point man to help get things off the ground, I guess I could lend you
Brother John part-time.  As far as volunteers go, we have a pretty good
list of men in the parish who've said they want to help - and the women's
groups will always lend a hand.  I'd open the list to you for this project.
Naturally, the Church Hall would be available for meetings and, perhaps,
some youth activities.  When it comes to money, I definitely suggest that
you try to get John Wilson, the Rector of Holy Trinity Church, to serve on
the Board of Directors.  He's a good head.  Besides, the directors of our
two mills go there - and, as usual, the Episcopalians have the inside track
on other money in the area.  When the Department has decided if it wants to
sponsor a PAL Chapter, just let me know and tell me how I can help.

"You've already made my day, Father," the Captain responded warmly.  "I
think you can expect to hear from me in the near future.  Oh, by the way,"
he asked, "are you ready to take another homeless gang off the streets?"
Fr. Tom laughed hysterically as he made ready to leave.  "Oh, Father, the
Captain continued, "send Shane around, will you?  Andy introduced him to me
briefly after Mass on Sunday, but I'd like to shake his hand and invite him
over to dinner."  Fr.  Tom nodded and grinned as he departed.


(To Be Continued)