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%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOKWhat They Did to the Kid 155A bird, crammed full of mulberries, dropped a load that splat across the shiny white car and dirtied Hank%u2019s fat fingers spread on the hood. So much for the wonderful hands of a priest.%u201cStop laughing,%u201d Hank said. He wiped his hand in the green grass. %u201cI%u2019m not stupid. I don%u2019t know about you guys, but I suspected something. Those old priests were not paying attention. Gunn was checking our legs for Bermuda shorts while half the high-school department was being raped.%u201d%u201cYou can%u2019t rape boys,%u201d I said.Hank the Tank grinned. %u201cMaybe for one or two it was rape. Chris is a very attractive role model.%u201d%u201cOh, jeez,%u201d Mike said. %u201cI%u2019m beginning to get it.%u201d%u201cEvery ring,%u201d Hank said, %u201chas a ringleader. You%u2019re never sure who it is.%u201dMike walked around to the driver%u2019s side of the white car. %u201cI%u2019d say, %u2018Be seeing you,%u2019 Hank,%u201d Mike said, %u201cexcept I won%u2019t %u2018be seeing you.%u2019%u201d%u201cBetter you should know who%u2019s on first.%u201d Hank picked up his valise. I thought it was like his mind, a tight little box full of dirty linen and bound with straps. %u201cI must find the new Reverend Peter Rimski. His Ordination means a lot to our father.%u201d%u201cYeah, yeah,%u201d I said. PeterPeterPeter was a priest! I picked a handful of mulberries from the tree and bit into them, their little grits pricking my mouth. Mike%u2019s exit from Misericordia was final. He was driving home for good, but I had my vocation. If PeterPeterPeter could be a priest, what was the nature of Christ%u2019s call? My vocation would not be lost because of outside forces that suckered those nineteen shipped boys into whatever happened. Inside my soul I was growing more secure. Christ, with time, was drawing me close, fitting me with less pain into the molded vocation He desired.Our two freshmen-college passengers climbed into the back seat, slammed the doors, lit up their cigarettes, impatient to leave Misery. Mike and I shook hands with Lock, who was flying out on a plane to New York and then on to a summer internship as a page boy at the Vatican in Rome.%u201cDon%u2019t let it get you down,%u201d Lock said to Mike. %u201cYou did right. Never think you didn%u2019t.%u201dI got into the car. The two freshmen were combing their hair from the way they%u2019d worn it all year to the way they wanted to wear it for the summer.%u201cGood-bye, Lock,%u201d I said. He was standing, framed by the perfect geometry of Misery%u2019s tall red bell tower. I wanted to tell Lock I loved him, the real way a priest loves a brother priest, the way my Uncle Les loved