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crew…ups during their orientation period； Jack thought their chances for escape would be better if they blended in as pletely as they could as soon as they could。 With Wolf； that wasn't going to be easy。 Christ； I'm sorry I got you into this； big guy； Jack thought。 But the situation is what the situation is。 And if we can't ride it； it's gonna ride us down。 So if I'm hard with you； it's for your own good。 He added miserably to himself； I hope。
'Wolf；' he whispered； 'do you want Singer to start beating on me again？'
'No； Jack； no 。 。 。 '
'Then you better e out in the hall with me；' Jack said。 'You have to remember that what you do is going to have a lot to do with how Singer and that guy Bast treat me。 Singer slapped me around because of your stones…'
'Someone might slap him around；' Wolf said。 His voice was low and mild； but his eyes suddenly narrowed； flared orange。 For a moment Jack saw the gleam of white teeth between Wolf's lips…not as if Wolf had grinned； but as if his teeth had grown。
'Don't even think of that；' Jack said grimly。 'It'll only makes things worse。' Wolf's arms fell away from his head。 'Jack； I don't know 。 。 。 '
'Will you try？' Jack asked。 He threw another urgent glance at the door。
'I'll try；' Wolf whispered shakily。 Tears shone in his eyes。
2
The upstairs corridor should have been bright with late…afternoon light； but it wasn't。 It was as if some sort of filtering device had been fitted over the windows at the end of the corridor so that the boys could see out…out to where the real sunlight was…but that the light itself wasn't allowed to enter。 It seemed to drop dead on the narrow inner sills of those high Victorian windows。
There were forty boys standing in front of twenty doors； ten on each side。 Jack and Wolf were by far the last to appear； but their lateness was not noticed。 Singer； Bast； and two other boys had found someone to rag and could not be bothered with taking attendance。
Their victim was a narrow…chested； bespectacled kid of maybe fifteen。 He was standing at a sorry approximation of attention with his chinos puddled around his black shoes。 He wore no underpants。
'Have you stopped it yet？' Singer asked。
'I…'
'Shut up！' One of the other boys with Singer and Bast yelled this last。 The four of them wore blue jeans instead of chinos； and clean white turtleneck sweaters。 Jack learned soon enough that the fellow who had just shouted was War…wick。 The fat fourth was Casey。
'When we want you to talk； we'll ask you！' Warwick shouted now。 'You still whipping your weasel； Morton？' Morton trembled and said nothing。
'ANSWER HIM！' Casey shrieked。 He was a tubby boy who looked a little bit like a malevolent Tweedledum。
'No；' Morton whispered。
'WHAT？ SPEAK UP！' Singer yelled。
'No！' Morton moaned。
'If you can stop for a whole week； you'll get your underpants back；' Singer said with the air of one conferring a great favor on an undeserving subject。 'Now pull up your pants； you little creep。'
Morton； sniffling； bent over and pulled up his trousers。
The boys went down to confession and supper。
3
Confession was held in a large bare…walled room across the way from the dining hall。 The maddening smells of baked beans and hotdogs drifted across； and Jack could see Wolf's nostrils flaring rhythmically。 For the first time that day the dull expression left his eyes and he began to look interested。
Jack was more wary of 'confession' than he had let on to Wolf。 Lying in his upper bunk with his hands behind his head； he had seen a black something in the upper corner of the room。 He had thought for a moment or two that it was some sort of a dead beetle； or the husk of its shell…he thought if he got closer he would perhaps see the spider's web the thing was caught in。 It had been a bug； all right； but not the organic kind。 It was a small； old…fashioned…looking microphone gadget； screwed into the wall with an eyebolt。 A cord snaked from the back of it and through a ragged hole in the plaster。 There had been no real effort to conceal it。 Just part of the service； boys。 Sunlight Gardener Listens Better。
After seeing the bug； after the ugly little scene with Morton in the hall； he had expected confession to be an angry； perhaps scary； adversary situation。 Someone； possibly Sunlight Gardener himself； more probably Sonny Singer or Hector Bast； would try to get him to admit that he had used drugs on the road； that he had broken into places in the middle of the night and robbed while on the road； that he had spit on every sidewalk he could find while on the road； and played with himself after a hard day on the road。 If he hadn't done any of those things； they would keep after him until he admitted them； anyway。 They would try to break him。 Jack thought he could hold up under such treatment； but he wasn't sure Wolf could。
But what was most disturbing about confession was the eagerness with which the boys in the Home greeted it。
The inner cadre…the boys in the white turtlenecks…sat down near the front of the room。 Jack looked around and saw the others looking toward the open door with a sort of witless anticipation。 He thought it must be supper they were anticipating…it smelled very damn good； all right； especially after all those weeks of pick…up hamburgers interspersed with large helpings of nothing at all。 Then Sunlight Gardener walked briskly in and Jack saw the expressions of anticipation change to looks of gratification。 Apparently it hadn't been dinner they had been looking forward to； after all。 Morton； who had been cowering in the upper hallway with his pants puddled around his ankles only fifteen minutes ago； looked almost exalted。
The boys got to their feet。 Wolf sat； nostrils flaring； looking puzzled and frightened； until Jack grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled him up。
'Do what they do； Wolf；' he muttered。
'Sit down； boys；' Gardener said； smiling。 'Sit down； please。' They sat。 Gardener was wearing faded blue jeans overtopped with an open…throated shirt of blinding white silk。 He looked at them； smiling benignly。 The boys looked back worshipfully； for the most part。 Jack saw one boy…wavy brown hair that came to a deep widow's peak on his brow； receding chin； delicate little hands as pale as Uncle Tommy's Delftware…turn aside and cup his mouth to hide a sneer； and he； Jack； felt some encouragement。 Apparently not everyone's head had been blown by whatever was going on here 。 。 。 but a lot of heads had been。 Wide…open they had been blown； from the way things looked。 The fellow with the great buck teeth was looking at Sunlight Gardener adoringly。
'Let us pray。 Heck； will you lead us？'
Heck did。 He prayed fast and mechanically。 It was like listening to a Dial…a…Prayer recorded by a dyslexic。 After asking God to favor them in the days and weeks ahead； to forgive them their trespasses and to help them bee better people； Heck Bast rapped out； 'ForJesussakeamen；' and sat down。
'Thank you； Heck；' Gardener said。 He had taken an armless chair； had turned it around backward； and was sitting on it like a range…ridin cowpoke in a John Ford Western。 He was at his most charming tonight； the sterile； self…referring craziness Jack had seen that morning was almost gone。 'Let us have a dozen confessions； please。 No more than that。 Will you lead us； Andy？' Warwick； an expression of ludicrous piety on his face； took Heck's place。
'Thank you； Reverend Gardener；' he said； and then looked at the boys。 'Confession；' he said。 'Who will start？'
There was a rustling stir 。 。 。 and then hands began to go up。 Two 。 。 。 six 。 。 。 nine of them。
'Roy Owdersfelt；' Warwick said。
Roy Owdersfelt； a tall boy with a pimple the size of a tumor on the end of his nose； stood up； twisting his rawboned hands in front of him。 'I stole ten bucks from my momma's purse last year！' he announced in a high； screamy voice。 One scabbed； grimy hand wandered up to his face； settled on the pimple； and gave it a fearful tweak。 'I took it down to The Wizard of Odds and I turned it into quarters and I played all these different games like Pac…Man and Laser Strike until it was gone！ That was money she had put away against the gas bill； and that's how e for a while they turned off our heat！' He blinked around at them。 'And my brother got sick and had to go in the hospital up in Indianapolis with pneumonia！ Because I stole that money！
'That's my confession。' Roy Owdersfelt sat down。
Sunlight Gardener said； 'Can Roy be forgiven？' In unison the boys replied； 'Roy can be forgiven。'
'Can anyone here forgive him； boys？'
'No one here。'
'Who can forgive him？'
'God through the power of His only begotten Son； Jesus。'
'Will you pray to Jesus to intercede for you？' Gardener asked Roy Owdersfelt。
'Sure am gonna！' Roy Owdersfelt cried in an unsteady voice； and tweaked the pimple again。 Jack saw that Roy Owdersfelt was weeping。
'And the next time your momma es here are you going to tell your momma that you know you sinned against her and your little brother and against the face of God and you're just as sorry a boy as ever there was？'
'You bet！' Sunl